Each day it comes… lands in the driveway… gets rained on… gets folded and ripped and pissed on. Everyday it comes and lines the cages of scared and broken animals. Everyday it pretends to break news, to inform, to be relevant. Everyday it peddles ink on paper with an aging, Lomanesque determination that makes a few think that maybe, just maybe there might be a future in that kind of everyday. If we just adjust the format… a daily MAGAZINE!!! A new and bold style change… a daily print run of four color wonder that if we get lucky will fool people into thinking that a daily print run makes sense… if we get lucky people won’t notice that we’re giving them stale news on dead trees… if we get lucky nobody will notice that we’re forcing something that is loose, shifting, ethereal and transient into a fixed format… if we get lucky they won’t notice that we’re taking something that thrives in the developing present and we’re killing it by presenting it via the historical past. If we get lucky they won’t see that is just doesn’t work anymore… not everyday.