[LEMONS] 11.27.2001
I love the Examiner. Love. Not that I believe everything I read in it, but I love it nonetheless. It's like your crazy friend who's always outraged, talking conspiracy theories and promoting untenable political positions, but whom you love anyway for his zaniness (for most of my friends, this guy is known as me). It's a tabloid, folded like a regular paper. It's our own New York Post, but nobody seems to have caught on yet. Lately the paper of wreckord has had some real doozies, which I keep meaning to share. First, there's the story on Danielle Steele, who is apparently to cars and parking permits what Imelda Marcos was to shoes. The story, in and of itself, isn't particularly outrageous. But the way in which it is reported makes it seem so. And, even better, the Examiner lists her address. Her address! It's an open invitation to go knocking on the door. "Pardon me, Ms. Steele, but could you please move your fucking car?" Another story in the Examiner caught my eye as well recently. Perhaps that's because it was a headline story in 72 point type that screamed "Terror Sex on the Rise," or something like that. Put the words "terror" and "sex" together in a headline and it doesn't matter very much what the rest of it says. Essentially the story is on the rise in the number of casual encounter ads on craigslist. But for stories like these, as it is with fruitpies and debutantes, presentation is everything. The way the Examiner presents them makes it worth dropping a quarter.
- l i n k -
