An ordinary day of the Wisconsin State Journal

We weren’t planning to… but yesterday, after praising the randomly-selected Friday, July 27, 2012 stories in the New York Times, it occurred to us that we should go back and check out the local paper, the Wisconsin State Journal, for the same day:


  • Lane’s Bakery to close in September. This could easily be misunderstood as a small thing, but Lane’s is an important social hangout for the retirees who have gathered there for years we are told
  • increased police patrols in nightclub area just east of campus.
  • school board considers hiring a ‘chief of staff’ for interim superintendent
  • Romney gaffes in London  (AP)
  • village of Lake Delton (WI Dells) pays $29,000 to get its algae-filled lake dyed blue

Science, p 2:

  • normally solid “Seely on Science” gets adorably weak-in-the-knees as son gets married

Local, p 3:

  • Business lobbying group WMC urges no discussion of mining until a Republican majority can be reestablished in Wisconsin Senate (AP)
  • Madison Mallards collegiate summer baseball team introduces 600-lb. crossbow to hurl rubber chickens at upcoming games (that is, during the games)
  • Verdict expected soon in eastside traffic death trial.

Nation, p 6:

  • HIV patients living longer (AP)
  • London an extremely cosmopolitan city (AP)
  • Syrian army general who defected 3 weeks ago suggests he could be new unifying leader. (AP)
  • Obama: no push for new gun laws (AP)
  • Judge bars release of Aurora gunman’s student records (AP)
  • People doing Iraq reconstruction died in large numbers (AP) (really old news)
  • Approval for state/federal plan to reduce phosphorus in Wisconsin lakes (20 years ago, this would’ve been too ordinary to mention)
Leaving aside the Associated Press stories to focus on the local content, we’re left with 2 impressions.
  1. It’s informationally thin.
  2. It’s almost amazingly small town. Are we reading the Hooterville Weekly Shopper? The old bakery is gonna close, 50 miles north they’re dye’n their lake blue, and we’re flingin’ rubber chickens at the local ballpark.
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