Old Man Twinkle
It took me about eight years, but I finally figured out how to get a Sunday-only subscription to The Kansas City Star. Naturally, I had a little help from the telemarketer on the other end of the phone line. The conversation went something like this:
“Look, I only want The Star to be delivered on Sunday.”
“Ok, Sir…you can have that, if you also take the paper on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”
“Yeah…but see…that’s not just Sunday. You guys do this to me all the time. You suckered me at the fair last year. You had that newly divorced, extremely outgoing, pretty brunette with the big Paris Hilton sunglasses and she told me that I could get a Sunday subscription to the paper, but after the first Sunday, I started getting it on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Now you’re telling me I can get a Sunday subscription, but only if I get the rest of the week, too. I just. Want. The. Paper. On. Sunday.”
She paused. It was a good time for a pause. I loosened my tie, placed my suit jacket on the banister and poured myself a scotch. With the phone snug to my ear, I mixed the ice with my finger and awaited her response. After a bit of time, she delivered.
“Well, Sir…you can get the paper on Sunday only if you live in the rural route area.”
I nodded sagely, sipping my drink, weighing my options.
“Right. So in order to get the paper delivered to my house on Sunday only, as opposed to just hopping in my Prius and going to the Hen House and buying a single copy myself, I have to make a major real estate transaction. I have to sell my home, uproot my entire family, seek out and acquire land along a sparsely populated unpaved roadway in the middle of nowhere during the worst real estate climate ever – just so I can read Lewis Diuguid?”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
Not as sorry as I am. Because I’m genuinely sorry to see what’s going on at The Star. The layoffs they’ve trumpeted on their front page affect us all. Of course, I’m also genuinely puzzled, as is my way. The Star is delivered by independent contractors who visit all of our neighborhoods every morning – if I wanted a Tuesday only subscription, they should of said “sure!” But no. No, I must get more of them than I want. They must force themselves upon me. I must take it all, or get nothing at all.
Let me explain something. I think The Star is very much a necessary, vital part of this town. Historically speaking, you have to credit The Star for shaking off the shackles of the Pendergast machine, for building the boulevards, for giving Ernest Hemingway his first set of clippings, for immortalizing our barbecue and jazz heritage. President Truman used to work in their circulation department; President Theodore Roosevelt died of a stroke after penning a column for the paper.
And they could have bailed on downtown Kansas City. They could have gotten a cushy spread out in Overland Park, with all the associated tax breaks, if they wanted to. But no. Instead they made the incredibly wise decision to build a great big glass house for their $200 million dollar presses, just so their Dillard’s ads could come to you in full color! Maybe their next move will be along the lines of “Smell-o-Vision.” I mean, who wouldn’t want to scratch and sniff Jason Whitlock?
You know…sometimes I get a bit carried away. Sorry about that.
The Star is our only major daily newspaper. It would be a bigger loss than we know if we lost them. The question is: Do they know when they’re losing us?