A couple weeks ago, we got a flyer from Austin American Statesman regarding renewing our old subscription. Instead of getting the paper daily, we could opt to just get it on Wednesday and Sunday mornings. For 26 weeks or half a year, it was $56, or thereabouts. I told Wife it would be cool if I could get the paper again, I did like reading the sports section on the throne. It made me at least have some light banter for talking to the men in my life, to know what is going on with the Longhorns or to keep up with the Spurs. If I remember correctly, we stopped because after being stuck at $24/month or so for the longest time, they got greedy and did a couple rate hikes within a year's time. This after I had noticed the paper itself getting smaller, and it being mostly ads.
We forgot to order it because it called for a check and a stamp and really, who does that, even the taxes to our dinosaur of a government are paid online now. I fumbled on the flyer the week after and it did have an email address, so I have ordered it. We got our first Sunday paper this past weekend. I went out and got it early, as I remember it getting stolen a time or two, and we do sleep in until noon if nobody bothers us. Eventually, I came downstairs to drink a cup of coffee while Wife showered, but I brought my laptop down, which I have gotten into the habit if taking it up to bed with me, mostly because this blog is a self inflicted albatross around my neck which I must write every day, and Wife is currently obsessed with Walking Dead and I refuse to watch it. So she watches her crappy show and I write my crappy blog, and that is how you stay married for 26+ years. Anyways, as soon as I turn on the laptop, I know the biggest things going on. There is 24/7 election coverage, oh no, Trump said another insult directed at Mexicans. The paper can't keep up, I turn on some light music on Youtube, look for anything interesting, check out my porn sites, and I'm ready to get my day started by the time Wife comes downstairs.
Plus, reading the paper in the potty requires two hands, while checking all my interesting sites on my phone takes one hand and I don't end up with ink on my hands. What if it turns out that ink causes butt cancer or gonads to hang even lower, touching toilet bowl water that way is no fun.
I don't know, there is something romantic about the paper, I remember as a kid, all of us would grab different pieces of the paper and read it, specially on a Sunday morning, with some barbacoa tacos for breakfast, those were the good ole days. Maybe as we get towards the holidays, I do love me some Christmas ads, or when football season rolls around again. We're just in a time of the year when everything is blasé.
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