I have yet to read the paper today because I didn’t make it downstairs quick enough to get it, both today and yesterday. I had to go to my local vender--the nice guy I always nod to in the subway station--to get the Sunday Times. The Times subscription is smart enough to give you a refund for stolen papers, so there was no finical loss, just frustration.

I hate having my paper stolen. There is a race in time for me in the weekends. I'll wake up all haggardly from a night on the town and rush get the paper downstairs, even before I brush my teeth or do anything else. Periodically, a mysterious soul in my apartment will be kind enough to take the paper inside the foyer, preventing the news thief from success. Yet, more often than not, all my rushing just leaves me frantically searching around the stoop for an invisible paper as if I just dropped a twenty dollar bill.

I have dealt with this long enough to not get too riled up about anymore. I have this vision of an early rising guy--he is a he in my mind--who lives near me has it all figured out. Just drop by the olde 736 early in the morning you have all the news you need for the week.

It is not like he is stealing something he could hawk it at the pawnshop or on the corner. "Hey man, check it out. I got today’s news. This shit will fuck you up good, man." And don't forget, if you don’t want to buy the New York Times, you can just read it online.

I am inadvertently educating my neighborhood brigand about world events. I would think that most thieves would read the Post or watch Fox, so I must be dealing with one of the smarter ones. For some reason that makes my inadvertent gift giving less annoying. He does this long enough and he’ll get a subscription himself.

Anyhow. I've got a lot of paper to get to.