Nick Lewis: The Blog

Hi New York Times, you don't know me, but I thought I'd say good bye while I had a chance. Rumor has it that you are about to take your publication behind the pay-only-wall. I for one applaud this decision. You see, New York Times, I actually don't really bother reading you any more. You're editorials, for the most part, well... suck. Your political reporting is often lazy, and follows the classic "he said, she said" format. And topping it all off, you seem to think that you're name grants your publication instant quality. So go ahead, ask my generation to pay (we won't). You might ask, "but, what are going to do without the all the news thats fit to print"? My reply: Print is dead, and I no longer need you to tell me what is news worthy.Not to mention, the Washington post tends to do a better job, anyway. So go ahead Times, make your move. I'll be laughing my ass off as I watch your crusty, arrogant, institution crumble into a musty and damp pile of dust.

P.S. Sleep forgot to stop by my bedroom tonight... hints the cranky tone of this post... I need Coffee...

As turned the corner of 5th street I expected to see a nice little pink ticket that read, "pay us money, or some guys with guns will break into your house, kidnap you, and take you to cold place with crappy lighting (I think the actual pink piece of paper claims that it has "warrent" to "arrest" you). Anyhow, there was no pick piece of paper... there was something worse. In my rush to get to the awards, I left my lights on -- for three and a half hours. This was bad: Jumping a car, when you are boxed in on both sides on both sides, on one of Austin's busiest streets is not an agreeable situtation. Though my lights were still shinning, my car, obvious, refused to start.

 This was bad, for I had just told my date to meet me at spider house before we went to the party. Making matters worse, I had no phone, and for some reason pay phones are in short suppy in that section of town. After about 30 mins, I finally let her know whats up, and told her that "I'd figure something out". I came back to my car, and asked for a miracle. As ridicolous as it felt, I decided I'd give starting the car another go. It sputtered, and refused to start. Then, I thought to myself, "I wonder if Heaven has given Dewey any miracle granting priveledges." I tried again, and it started. Thanks you for the favor friend, I owe you one.

Accuse me of posting "old news", and I'll accuse you of failing to distingish between wisdom and news. That said, in response to Hunter S. Thompson's death, Ed Ward shares a bit of wisdom that should not go overlooked.

I hope he's found peace and that he's happy, and if his sad end serves as a sober-up call for some of the idiots who thought the liquor and the pills were what made the writing, then it's not entirely tragic. What is tragic, though, is that if a similarly distinctive and unusual voice appeared on the scene today, the world of print would have no place for it. Long articles are long gone, replaced by bite-sized chunks for the ADD generation. Magazines don't take risks because they don't want to offend and lose advertisers, and anyway, they're making little enough money, so they depend on staff writers to do the whole book. Freelancers don't have a chance, even established ones. Nope, a Hunter Thompson today would be tempted to put the gun to his head before his name ever appeared in print. And that's a tragedy which needs attending to, I'd say.

All photos taken at SXSW by dreadfuldan. Reader, repeat after me: "Screw reading Nick's blog, I want to explore the rest of dreadfuldan's work."