Another endangered feature of newspapers

As I wrote a while back, we switched to four-day-a-week home delivery of the Globe, which has worked out quite well -- it's really a treat now when I get to fondle an actual paper over coffee -- but the one thing for which I couldn't get my daily fix was the comics. The Globe happens to have the best and largest selection of comics I've ever seen. As of a year or two ago, they're nicely packaged (in print) in the "g" tabloid color magazine insert, which also has the arts and living sections. But on Monday through Wednesday, what's a girl to do? All the strips are on one website or another, but who wants to do that much clicking? The Globe's website, boston.com, has a link to a so-called comics page but it's obviously been completely neglected -- it has a few lame comics that don't even run in the paper.

What I did was pony up $11 a year to gocomics.com to get a daily email with many of my favorite strips embedded -- just a gentle turn of the scrolling button on my mouse is all I have to do. (The only remaining problem is that there are a few of my favorite strips that gocomics.com doesn't license, so I still have to click around for a few of them three days a week, at least for now.) This is a business model I can totally live with. I have no idea if it's profitable for them, but I certainly think that $11 a year is a reasonable amount to pay for saving the labor of going to a lot of individual sites and pages -- even though the comics are still free on those pages (though you can't see archived strips for free). As of yet, papers haven't found a way to create an added value that people would be willing to pay for, since the content is already free and easily accessible. Maybe papers should deconstruct their websites' usability -- make it harder to find and read what you're looking for, even though all the content is online for free, so people would be willing to pay a bit to have it all nearly packaged and delivered to them with a pretty bow.

Here's Doonebury's take on it from a couple of days ago:

How stupid is this?

Am I missing something here? I just rediscovered the Globe Reader after they stuck an ad for it on today's paper. It's not new -- I remember checking it out a year or two ago -- but had forgotten about it until all this mess about the newspaper industry tanking. Here's the multimedia demo if you're curious. But here's the stupid: you can't download the Globe Reader unless you already subscribe to the print paper! WTF?! So... you're supposed to pay to have the paper delivered so you can kill trees and drop it unread into the recycling bucket just so you can get a decent online version? I'm very confused. The Globe is not saving any money on printing and delivery by doing this. The only thing I can think of it that the Globe Reader apparently serves up the content with no ads, which is great, but that freaks out the execs who can't get their head around making money from something other than advertising. Do they have some sort of senile fantasy that people will open the print edition just to look at the ads and read the content on Globe Reader? I am so confused. Besides, it's not like they're making any money from ads any more -- in fact, that's the whole problem. AND they just jacked up subscription prices to $12.25 a week for seven-day delivery (after the 50%-off intro period). That $637 a year. I did the math three times because I thought I'd made a mistake. Christ.

A most excellent vacation

We returned Monday from four days in Nantucket, and it was one of my top 5 vacations ever. I have to write it down so I'll remember it, but if it's too boring to read, just go to Mimi Smartypants' latest, which is even excellenter than usual.

We left Friday morning for Hyannis and barely made the 11:00 ferry (who knew you STILL had to stand in line to get printed tickets when you had purchased them beforehand online?). The house that D1 and . rented in Sconset was absolutely beautiful -- a spacious living room with a strip of backyard and then the bluff dropping to the wide-open sea. We were in an adjacent guest cabin, while K, her 9-year-old daughter J, and D2 were in the main house as well (K, D, D2 and I all worked at the same place at various times). The kids loved battling the waves and then eating ice cream at Sconset Beach even though the water was pretty cold thanks to the worst June weather ever. Then we had a barbecue and cocktails in the front yard that evening while Sarah and J. quickly became fast friends.

On Saturday we had a ride in Nantucket Sound in B's beautiful boat, complete with fancy color GPS map that shows your location in real time, as well as water depth chart and sonar for finding fish. Kind of chilly in the wind but beautiful. Then a visit to the beach club (water, beach chairs, umbrella and towels provided; excellent shells collected). Then D1's 12-year-old daughter babysat while the adults had a great time eating and drinking at a Latin restaurant and then strolling around town. Surprisingly few pairs of hideous madras shorts seen on the men; must be the cool weather. Earlier in the day, however, I spotted what I took at first to be an African-American woman on the beach until I looked more closely and realized she was a bleached blonde (white) woman in her 60s with skin that had been tanned to the shade of rich Corinthian leather. Ew.

On Sunday we went to the pool (more plushy towels and a cool outdoor shower). Another barbecue that night. Monday included a visit to the little aquarium in town (stuffed animals were acquired in the gift shop, naturally), another visit to Sconset Beach and a walk back to the house along the bluff -- between the ocean views on our right and the fantastic homes on our left, one of the most beautiful walks ever. In between these excursions there were Bananagrams, reading, talking, Webkinz World (for the kids) and only one email check all weekend. I officially love Nantucket. Must start buying lottery tickets. I've never been good about including photos with my posts because I'm too lazy, but I'll try to upload a couple.

Remind me to describe the other Best Vacations Ever: Virgin Islands by sailboat, April 1991; and Paris, summer 1985 when you could get 10 francs for a dollar. Sweet...

There will be blood

Funny coincidence the other night... out of the blue, Sarah asked me what tampons were (she had seen a tampon machine in a public restroom and it registered for the first tine, I guess). I'd talked about menstruation before, but we hadn't discussed a Lady's Way of Dealing With Aunt Flo. I described the reason for needing tampons and, warming up, began discussing the tampon's structure and function. I went into our bathroom to get one to dissect for her edification. Then just as I was reaching the high point of the story (pantomiming insertion fully clothed), there was a perfectly timed howl from elsewhere. Rolling my eyes I waited to see what Drama Queen was overreacting to now, when into the bathroom she rushed... dripping blood from her face, arms and hands. Yes, with her impeccable talent Becky had managed to give herself a whopping nosebleed by somehow bumping her nose with her own knee, and then dashing in, deus ex machina-like, to inadvertently illustrate my story. Except I didn't have the heart to point out to either of then that it was the wrong orifice...

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For Ben's birthday we went on a date (his nephew babysitting for free, BOO YAH!), had delicious Indian food at a restaurant we'd never been to, then saw the new Star Trek movie and loved it, then saw a little fox in the dark mist on the way home.

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The meteorological suckitude has scarcely abated. Today it did not rain. For once. But it still isn't hot like summer is supposed to be. At least we're saving a bundle on air conditioning, As in, NONE so far and it's the second week of July. Tomorrow we go to Nantucket for three-plus days. The weather is supposed to be decent at least tomorrow, if still cool. If there are thunderstorms when we're at the beach, there WILL be blood.

The scandals, they keep coming

Another entertaining political career implosion for a politician who answered the siren call to Think With His Dink: Mark Sanford. Did I say Appalachian Trail? I meant Argentinian Trail! In the Andes! Of course for sheer hilarity plus chutzpah, nothing can beat Mr. Wide-Stance himself, Larry Craig. But even without the sex angle (that we know of at the moment), we can be entertained by career nosedives like Sarah Palin's inexplicable resignation. The best lines I've seen: "I-Quit-a-Rod" and this line from Maureen Dowd: "Caribou Barbie is one nutty puppy."

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What day would be complete without the latest chunk of masonry falling from the edifice of journalism? The Washington post ombudsman acknowledged in his own paper that more errors are getting through because the paper has slashed their copy desk to the bone. And let's face it, it's only going to get worse. The only thing that the established news business (as opposed to amateur bloggers) has going for it is professional credibility, but that too is washing down the drain at an alarming rate.