Print is dead, unless you’re a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist for the Boston Globe. In that case, it’s very much alive and well… and reason enough to get out of bed at 2 am and hand-insert the Sunday edition because the owner John Henry royally fucked up the transition to a new distribution service and couldn’t be bothered to get his wrinkled ass out of bed and bundle the stacks himself. In case you’re not following me because you accidentally uninstalled Twitter on your phone, here’s the skinny:
The Boston Globe’s management and owner decided to bleed a few nickels out of the locally employed contractors who distribute the printed version by hiring a company out of California who seemingly didn’t know the difference between shit and Shinola. Enter the first week of distribution services, and you have a clusterfuck well beyond the green monster. Now, almost a week in, the best part about this debacle is that they have zero solutions for a zero sum problem and there’s zero word from the Zero Owner. High five! You’re screwed.
The fact that Globe is falling apart while it rebuilds is impressive and unfathomably sad all in one breath. When Hiawatha Bray has to slum the floors of Henry’s fulfillment center making “No comment” statements to NECN while he stuffs Walmart circulars into the Help Wanted section no one reads, you know you’re headed in the wrong direction.
With that said, we’ve got a GREAT issue here that’s distributed in print by a GREAT distribution company and contains GREAT content. We’re also online. And on Twitter and Facebook. And Instagram, I think, and maybe… Periscope now too?! We’re everywhere. Check it.
Jeff Lawrence, DigBoston Publisher + Editor
Yallqueda – Noun
A person or group of persons who occupy federal land and/or federal buildings in order to make a political stand against the federal government, but in doing so mimic the anti-American tactics of terrorist organizations like ISIS that threaten to disrupt our American way of life and end up becoming a joke that everyone laughs at while shaking their heads. See also douchebag and terrorist.
OH, CRUEL WORLD
Dear Globe Reporters,
Watching you boast about delivering your paper last weekend was about the most sickening thing imaginable. It’s like if the people who have to serve you snobs your lunch in the Morrissey Boulevard dining room every day went on strike, and you all had a big old kitchen party wearing hairnets and pretending you are low-wage cooks. Are you going to keep delivering the paper if you have to? Or were you just pathetic tourists on a one-day jaunt? Please go back to pretending that you cover the city, and call it a day.