The New York Times has a telling if meandering piece on the rise and fall of Time Inc., once a titan of print, only to be devoured by Meredith who plans bland and by-the-numbers elevator music shows with the tepid brands that have been done to death on US television for the last twenty-plus years.
And with the tepid logo and "re-brand" of 4 M Studio (the four Ms most likely standing for Mush, Milquetoast, Mediocre, and Mummified).
Of course, there is nothing but uncertainty for Time magazine as they do not fit with the new overlord's vision of today.
The Times' drivel interviews past and present journalists and editors that once worked for the publication.
And it was very telling why the magazine went down the drain.
By the sounds of the reminisces, the actual work thing was secondary. It was all about the food, drink, and affairs staff had under the roof of a very nice building. Lull your employees into thinking they are staying at a Best Western with a free continental breakfast and happy hour voucher as they pick up chicks at the bar, and then raved about the experience on Yelp...or the New York Times.
Because that's what counts -- moving away from the hick small-town you hated, and then get a nice paper crown in the big city as you see yourself working in a resort.
Which should have been the omen to watch -- motels are the transients' place -- where everything is temporary, and there is no putting down actual roots.
There is no thinking about tomorrow -- and the mindset begins to seep into the work that you do. You are on a form of vacation -- and your stories turn into tourist attractions and amusements, not actual work. There is no context or perspective. Just a smash and grab here, a quickie there, and stuffing into your suitcases as much little shampoos and lotions as you can.
With that kind of mindset, Time Inc. was doomed to fail. It had no roots as it cultivated a tumbleweed mentality in its minions. Everything was fleeting, but the mote reviews were good enough to flock there, even for a spell.
Once upon a time, Time meant something, but unlike its name, the magazine didn't understand the concept of time -- nor was meant to last the test of time, either.
It came roaring on the scene, and slowly, like a broken hourglass, the sands vanished one by one until there was nothing left in the hourglass at all...