My Dearest Wired

We’ve been together a long time. Back since issue #1. Back then, we were both crazy kids, I was just a year or two out of college, starting my career in technology and you were the inside-outsider watching the whole thing happen and feeding me juicy bits of info. I thought it could last forever, but things change. As the industry you documented outgrew you, you started to seem a bit anachronistic. You couldn’t keep up. The juicy news you purveyed was old hat by the time your issues arrived. Then you shacked up with Conde Nast, and all of the sudden you were filled with more advertisements than the websites you covered. I started to check out of our relationship, I couldn’t help myself. I went from devouring you each time you showed up at my door to skimming you and reading only things that seemed interesting. Over time that was less and less. Now, there is a stack of unread copies of you sitting on my nightstand.

Your siren song, your low-priced subscription renewal beckons, but this time it is really over. I’d like to say that it’s me, not you, but really, it’s you. You’re running with a different crowd now, a crowd more concerned with lifestyle then technology. I hardly know you anymore. I’ve got to move on.

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