On Sunday mornings I get in my car and drive to Dave’s market to pick up the inevitable last copy of the Sunday New York Times and a copy of the Providence Journal.

First I open the Journal and take out all the flyers and coupons stuffed inside along with the comics and Parade magazine. I don't read the comics and I haven't leafed through the pages of Parade magazine since I was twelve. I breeze past the headlines and stories as a cryptographer does code then I start from the beginning and begin downloading content into my brain cells. I can file all the news I need to know from the Sunday Journal in about a half an hour. Just about as much time as it takes for the average coupon clipper to finish their job.

The New York Times is an entirely different tree all together. Much of its content, written, photographed, or advertised can be pretentious and snooty. The news is presented in a way that that suggests we're going to be tested on what we've just read.

The New York Times Sunday edition has a magazine, a style section, a business section, a separate book review supplement, world news (including places you never heard of) national news, and an arts and leisure section There's also the Sunday Review, which is loaded with editorials and opinions on current themes from gun laws to gay marriage to the sagging economy. There's a travel section and sometimes a special magazine insert that showcases everything from men’s and women's fashion to expensive home design and sports. If you were to read every piece in the Sunday Times it could take you most of the day which isn't bad given all the articles and information. The edition I get doesn’t have the Times classified section and of course there are no cartoons except those on the editorial pages.

Like any other Sunday paper, the New York Times can be lively or dull depending upon what your interests are. For instance, I don't plan to eat a pig’s head or a sow's stomach and I have no interest in symphonies or stories about musicians who play dulcimers. I don't care how someone decorated their multimillion dollar loft or what kind of scotch they drink.

The Sunday papers have been a staple of my weekend education for years. I'm looking for unusual stuff and uniquely written commentary. Some I retain, like the story about the C.I.A. using drones to kill thousands of people in Pakistan, or the article about the illegal videotaping by animal rights advocates of livestock being horribly abused and tortured as they wait to be slaughtered in huge corporate holding pens.  Some states have passed legislation that prohibits activists from making these covert videos due to pressure from the meat processing industry.

The Sunday paper, whether it's the Journal or the Times, gives me something to look forward to on Sunday which can be the most isolating and depressive day of the week.  Grab the Sunday papers, kick back, and have fun. Who knows? You might just learn something you didn't expect to learn. I know I do. Each and every Sunday of the year.

for Sophia When She's Fifteen

They'll get the debt ceiling raised, of that I'm sure, But through all this nonsense, politicians have lost their allure As statesmen or wise men, these clowns will never be. They're jerks and gangsters Through them we can see The avarice, the greed and the need to be On the stage and all the rage while the country heads for default They lie and whine while they empty the vault.

No one but me spoke out when the war was billions a day Nobody wanted to hear me say, This is not war this this is payback you see For Bush and his buddies paid for by you and me.

Then Obama ate up more

By sending more troops into the endless war In Afghanistan and Pakistan and the entire Indian area While back here at home it's economic hysteria.

We're out of money and if we can't borrow more, We'll have to pull the shades on every mom and pop store On every business and government fund It's our money after all but the looting's just begun Soon we won't have money and in a way it's sad Politicians could have saved the day.

Instead they had to have their say

How they were indebted to pay to play

That they would do nothing without a word From Grover Nordquist is most absurd But after all, before the masses, politicians are slime,  lower than asses.