Just heard tomorrow's P-I is the last print edition. Even though we knew this was coming, I could not helping hoping for some last-minute reprieve. Bill Gates to the rescue? Not to be.
Can't really blame the billionaires who don't want to tie their fortunes to a sinking ship, but I just wish it wasn't so.
I have had so many people tell me that this wretched development has been like losing a dear friend. There will be a period of mourning, otherwise known as a wicked hangover. I'm guessing as soon as the doors of Buckley's open, the wake will begin.
Just this morning, I filed my last stories, one on spring greens and one on touring Lake Union. They'll likely show up online, but here's a preview of the final dining column:
"I hate long goodbyes, so I'm not going to go on and on about how sad I feel about filing what is likely my last column in my 25-plus year print career. Instead, I'm going to drown my sorrows before picking myself up and starting a new chapter."
More on that very soon.