As bloggers, we realize we live off the fat of the land. You hate your job, and we provide a diversion from that hatred. Your clicks provide our salary, and for that we thank you. Thanks, really, so much.

Today is New Year’s Eve. That means tonight, we will all be wasted and tomorrow we’ll be promising never to do such misdeeds again. In between then and now, there are no files to collate, and you need us more than ever to distract you from the hum of fluorescent lights above you.

But unfortunately, like you, we’re counting the minutes until we can get the F out of here, so we can begin the process that will end with us vomiting on the L train.

In the meantime, some paper in Cincinnati is closing. Journalism is dead. Is it New Year’s yet?