The print edition of Newsweek — a standard bearer of the liberal
media — died on Thursday. And though she’d long been old and a little
batty, we all saw it coming.
The aging glossy was displaying all the signs of bad health, mental and physical: Every year she was getting skinnier; her dependable proclamations that she had discovered the truth about Christianity were becoming increasingly shrill; she’d handed over the keys to her house and gone on a one week bender with a comedian; she’d creeped us out by asking anyone who was listening — a dwindling number — “Is your baby racist?”
But two months ago, the cracks really started to show.
The aging glossy was displaying all the signs of bad health, mental and physical: Every year she was getting skinnier; her dependable proclamations that she had discovered the truth about Christianity were becoming increasingly shrill; she’d handed over the keys to her house and gone on a one week bender with a comedian; she’d creeped us out by asking anyone who was listening — a dwindling number — “Is your baby racist?”
But two months ago, the cracks really started to show.
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