Why newspapers are illin'

They bury the lede. How can someone who has developed butt calluses and a mouseball-curved forefinger from an obsession with the internets only recently have discovered Dick Cavett's blogging? Here he's saying so much better what I've been ranting about for years now: Familiarity breeds complacency. In extreme cases, one day a girlfriend refuses to exit the bathroom and two years later the toilet seat embedded in her flesh looks perfectly normal. More routinely, one fat kid gets cast in a commercial and before you know it Husky is the new Size 2.

The only reason to get the Daily News on Sunday

As an antidote to the increasingly grim news emanating from NPR on my consort’s clock radio too early every morning, I start my days with a few serious laughs: Tony Auth, Jeff Danziger, Mike Luckovich, Pat Oliphant, Ben Sargent and Ann Telnaes (and half a dozen others if I am in total procrastination mode). Food figures into their wit surprisingly often, but not usually as brilliantly as this.