This holiday-delayed Y@ Speak starts off with delightful tweets about sperm cake, a sex clown and a cat named "Money Chicken," but takes a dark turn with reactions to that news from last week.
Excuse me while I get personal for a second. As someone who grew up here (in Metairie, specifically), the Times-Picayune has been one of those inextricable aspects of my life that I, admittedly, have taken for granted at times. Having the paper around the house was how I learned to read. It's how I learned I wanted to be a writer. It's also how I learned there was no such thing as Santa Claus — from a Living section article titled, I'm pretty sure, "How to tell your child there's no such thing as Santa Claus' — because I was a bit too precocious a child. This weekend, my dad — an avid consumer of local news — made a joke that when he dies, "he's not going to find out about it until Wednesday."
Working for The Maroon at Loyola University, I worked with and befriended several talented, insanely dedicated journalists who would go on to do incredible work at the T-P (I'd named them all here but I'm afraid I'd leave someone out). Over the past few years, I've had the pleasure of meeting — or just becoming Twitter buds with or crushing on from afar — some other writers from the staff whose work I admire. It's a shame that after all their hard work, some during those chaotic, post-Katrina days, they learn the news of their employer's cutbacks through a blog on the goddamn New York Times. Working for the alt-weekly comes with gentle ribbing of the Grande Dames of media at times, but I — and the rest of us, I'm sure — sincerely hope the best for all of the T-P folks. You deserve better.