Days of Future Passed

The Washington Post is my hometown newspaper; somewhere in storage I still have the plaque my brother and I received for delivering the paper during the Blizzards of '82. My first job, and I still read the paper (on-line) everyday.

Old media is new media again, and the modern tycoons are taking control. What comes around goes around.

Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day's useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion

— Graeme Edge, The Moody Blues

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