The Daily Dump
Dear Daily News,
It’s not you. It’s me. But our relationship has to stop. I can’t have you showing up at my doorstep at four o’clock each morning. I told my fiancee our relationship was over, and she’s getting upset.
Please don’t think I haven’t tried, Daily News. I did.
I remember the chilly day we met last year. A burly man with a name tag that read “Bud” called out to me. Daily News, he said, $24 for 12 months.
“And it comes with a $10 gift card,” said Bud. “So cheap, you don’t even have to read it.”
I remember laughing, Daily News. But then I felt bad that someone would sell you so short. You are clearly worth far more, and I wonder if that has affected your self-esteem.
I appreciated your local coverage and your jaunty red and blue masthead. I think your sports columnists are superior to those of the LA Times, and I like the fact that I can read you in 25 minutes, the time it takes for my Metrolink train to whisk me downtown.
But no more. We had three newspapers at the time: the LA Times, the NY Times and the Daily News. We were overwhelmed. Stacks of newsprint gathered in our home like an illustration in a Shel Silverstein poem.
So, in October, I broke it off. Perhaps it was cold of me to breakup by telephone, but you refused to speak to me. What could I do?
I called your friends in Woodland Hills, and left message after message.
But you must not have received them, Daily News, for you continue to show up at my door day after day. I tried to reason with you, but you still refuse to speak, preferring to mock me in silence from the end of my driveway.
You are stubborn, Daily News. You do not listen.
But know this: I have made my decision, and no number of unannounced visits will make me change my mind. I do love you, Daily News, but we must part. Besides, we’ll always have the web.