Once, in a less cynical era, newspaper editors maintained the sham that journalistic integrity remained intact by separating the news side from the business side (read advertising) of the publication. Today, in the real world, all pretense has been dropped.
Now we are given the latest prostitution. In a misguided attempt to force its reluctant suburban readers to consider its classified offerings, the Tribune gives us Your Money. Buried inside its pages of unwanted merchandise are the once treasured Leckey, Mateja and Pluggers.
Farewell, old friends. At this house, you’ll be consigned to the recycling bin with the rest of the birdcage lining, unread. It’s not worth soiling my hands on the pages of newsprint to locate your elusive location. Your message, as interpreted by your peers, can be obtained from the pages of “Money,” “Fortune,” “Road & Track” or “Car & Driver.”
