We live in an era where journalism has been traduced by its practitioners to such a degree nothing should surprise us. Except, perhaps, when it comes to the decaying wreck of The Age and Sydney Morning Herald.
Social media recaps? What next? A dunny graffiti digest? The summary of the latest ramblings of the old woman who smells like rising damp on the 58 tram to West Coburg, assorted ice addicts who camp around Flinders Street Station and the mob outside the Salvos’ building on Bourke Street? Doorstopping the users of the Richmond safe injecting room?
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