There's no one left to save.

August 2011.

That was the last time I sat in front of a Blogger screen and updated this blog. That's a long time. I know nobody missed my musings. After all, blogs are like buttholes nowadays.

A lot has happened in that time. My second child was born in October of that year. Levi Scott is his name and he's an absolute delight to be with. Even if he fancies his big sister Claire's hair bows and princess crowns and walks in a very sassy manner.

I was working to fix all the damage done from a year of unemployment in 2009 to 2010. I was bringing home a fraction of what I was making at my previous job, but our little family was barely making it with the help of my parents.

If you don't know me, I'm a journalist. Not one of those pretentious, shove my beliefs down your throat journalists, but a damn fine one if I say so myself. I also have a truck load of awards to back up that bravado. Those awards and $1.25 will get you a bottle of Pepsi from a vending machine.

As I have gotten older and matured in my craft I drifted more away from the writing aspect of journalism and focused more on content, design and editing. I am really talented in Photoshop and making nice, eye-catching designs. I received a lot of kudos from my bosses and the writers for making their stories "pop" off the front page of the small daily newspaper in which I was working.

Then came April 19, 2013.

The Editor (my boss) texted me during the day asking if I could come in an hour early that evening for my shift. I did. I clocked in at 4:01 p.m. It's weird to think I remember the exact time I clocked in, but I'm a weird guy.

I went about business as usual to start my day. I put my night's dinner in the freezer in the break room and then went to my desk where I started my computer. The background image of both Levi and Claire popped up on the screen of the MAC Mini I'd been designing pages on for the past three years. I started the programs I would need to complete my night's work. The only thing strange was that one of my coworkers wasn't at her desk. I thought this was the reason I was called in to work early because my work load would increase in  her absence.

The editor came by my desk "Hey Scott. Let's run down to (the publisher's office) real quick."

"Am I in trouble," I asked.

"(The publisher) wants to see you," was the reply I got.

My inner voice told me I was screwed. Just how hard I didn't know yet.

"Hey, Scott. Grab a seat." The publisher said as he sat with two small stacks of paper in front of him. I saw my name at the top of the business-style letter. I was being let go.

I don't remember anything he said other than "we've had some hard financial times and we've had to cut some money from out division's bottom line." Nearly $3 million to be exact.

Everyone was worried about cutting $3M. But with so many weeklies and the latest trend in newspapers being regional copydesks, our small department of one salaried full time employee, two hourly full timers, a part timer and one who split time between writing and editing, we figured we'd be safe. I figured I'd be safe.

I WAS WRONG

The American Heavy Metal Band Lamb of God released a song last year called Ghost Walking. I know some music is open to interpretation so when I was cleaning out my desk and fighting back tears I heard this song playing in my head. Check out the video and I'll tell you how it describes the state of journalism.

The main character, well, that's me. I'm walking alone in a dangerous world trying to salvage what's left of a cause. In my case, print journalism.


There are others like me, but they've been cut and left for dead. That's the dead man with the can of spray paint.

The masked men with rifles watching my every move and eventually attacking me are traditionally-trained journalists in the blogosphere, TV journalists and bloggers in general. They'll destroy and steal your work. Given the chance, they'll metaphorically kill you and they're trying to destroy print media. Sometime the traditional journalist will strike a blow for the old way. But as the video implies, it's all for nothing.

The swirling red clouds and beam coming from the sky are the corporate giants who own media. They are destroying the last holdouts of unbiased, just the facts, journalism and journalists.

I'm left alone on a desolate plain. Bleeding out from a gut shot to my soul and what I took pride in doing. Two layoffs in four years is a bitter pill. All that's left is to lay down in the sand and die.

Journalism as I knew it, and how trailblazers like Edward R. Murrow, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein built it up to be, is dead.

There's no one left to save.