STOP THE FUCKIN’ PRESSES: If The INKY Rank n’ File Don’t Give A Damn, Why The HELL Should We?

EDITORIAL: So the Guild has a meeting last night at a synagogue near 400 North Broad street to discuss the new contract their negotiators fought tooth and nail for, shitty as it may be. And you know what? Out of nearly 1,000 guild members only 200 bothered to show up. Reminds of that great Mickey Rourke line from Rumblefish where someone asks him what California was like and he says something to the effect of: She’s like a beautiful girl on heroin, she’s high as a kite thinkin’ she’s on top of the world, not knowin’ she’s dyin’ even if you show her the marks. And people wonder why BOTH unions and newspapers are fast becoming anachronisms. As long-time believers in both newspapers and organized labor, we are ashamed FOR you people. But really, if you people don’t even care about your own sorry asses, why the hell should we? And believe you me, we cared a HELL of a lot more than the average man on the street. Just ask Tommy Up. Right from the getgo he said this story was as fascinating as watching paint dry — and sad to say, we are beginning to think he was right all along. Hereafter, we are retiring this handsome and alarming STRIKE logo (pictured, below right) we stole off Google because this story is officially DEAD to us. In parting, let us confess we wish there WOULD have been a strike, just to shake shit up. Because nothing tells us that shit needs to be shook up more than the PATHETIC turnout at last night’s Guild meeting. And one last piece of advice: the first step to being free is NOT caring if you get fired. You can live in fear of it, and then it owns you. Or you can walk unafraid, off the plank if asked, and then you own yourself — and baby, you’re a rich man. Captain Bill Marimow, we wish you Godspeed. May you wash the blood off the deck post-haste and steer this salty bitch back out to sea where she belongs. Brian Tierney, we do not envy you, and still we are rooting for you to find a way out of this Poseidon adventure. Congratulations, you have bought a broken flock of sheep. May it serve you well on the cold and lonely nights of print journalism’s Brokeback Mountain of the soul. Oh, and by the way, if you need a web guru — and you really do, Brian, with all due respect Philly.com sucks cock HARD — feel free to contact us as feed@phawker.com. We know how to make killer metroblogs out of thin fuckin’ air. Fact.