The hunt for ink and paper
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Sean of the South
All I wanted was a newspaper.
It was a small town. Somewhere in the Southeast. Big shopping complex, off the interstate. Best Buy, Red Lobster, Ulta, Olive Garden, Outback Steakhouse, Target, and all other franchises that transform American towns into carbon copies, from Oil Slick to Shining Oil Slick.
I walked into the gas station to buy coffee and a newspaper. But something was wrong.
“Sorry, sir,” said the kid, playing on a phone. “Ain’t got no newspapers here.”
“Do you know where I might find some?”
The kid looked up from his device and took a few moments to think about it. “Got some real estate magazines out there.”
“I’m not looking for real estate.”
Shrug. “Well, it’s a really great place to live.”
So I drove around. Maybe I could get one at the grocery store. I’m a big fan of physical newspapers. Even though they aren’t en vogue anymore, you can usually find one at the supermarket.
“Excuse me,” I asked the young man at the supermarket’s customer service desk. “Do you sell newspapers?”
The kid was dressed like a surfer although it was 32 degrees Fahrenheit outside.
He looked at me with that “look.” You know the look. My grandfather might have said you gazed into this young man’s eyes and saw the back of his skull. But I’m choosing to call this look a “vacant stare.”
“Brah,” the kid said. “I don’t think we sell newspapers.”
“You don’t think?”
“Nope.”
“Is there any way we could find someone who does think?”
He itched his hair, then sniffed his fingers. “Let me ask a manager.”
The manager was a young woman. Very friendly. Very organized. She smiled and informed me:
“We don’t sell newspapers. We have a free magazine rack by the entrance. It’s mostly just real estate magazines.”
“I’m not looking to relocate here.”
“There are some very good articles written by realtors.”
So I went to the book store. It was a tiny book store. Independently owned. I have a thing for bookstores. Surely an institution of codexes would know where to find a newspaper.
The bookstore cashier was maybe 17. She shook her head and frowned.
“No, sadly we don’t have a newspaper in town anymore. I think you used to could find the newspaper online, but not anymore.”
“But,” I said, “where do people get their local news?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think anyone wants local news anymore. Nowadays everyone just wants to fight about politics.”
Kids, what do they know?
