We all have well-trodden cow paths we follow each day, which frightfully limit our peregrinations. When visiting Salon I invariably look for the trail to politics, and then, having smugly followed that, stand quietly in the shade chewing my cud, as I consider how best to gore this complacent ass or that.

But I do have a sense of humor if only I could find someone to felate it - that is to say, with taste and class. Few can, but today I had a pleasant surprise. Despite Cary's engaging graphic, which anyone would recognize as that of a most genial, beleaguered journalist, I have always continued down the rutted lane, intent on my bovine quest for blood.

Today this somnolent course was arrested by the words, print journalism, and Now what? - because, you see, I am a writer of the first magnitude, just handicapped, as it were, by cynicism and apathy, or should it read, apathy and cynicism, maybe cynicism and apathy? Anyway, you get the picture: I don't know anyone worth writing for. So the "now what? condition is my mental environment. Such is this inertia, I'm truly adamant toward virtually everything except a good fight, and I know where to find it.

Tennis has lots to share, and does so with ease, naturalness and personality second-to-none. Blithe and cordial, Cary includes us as he sails along beneath clear skies with visibility unlimited. Airily his skiff avoids shoals of pretense, conceit, pedantry, logic, as he pieces together a homily of wit, unrelenting truth, self-deprecation, sense and non-sense. Here is a freedom belonging to the existentialist alone, having jettisoned convention, gravity, preconception, rationality, circumspection - all in the devout conviction that one absurdity makes as much sense as another absurdity.

Cary Tennis is the perfect modern for this question. And we have mused to read the perfect answer. Had Cary's vita been one whit less maddening, any the less hopeless, even one degree kinder or gentler, we readers would not have known the privilege of this treat. Thanks, Cary.

Let's see...you spent the last 4.5 years studying and preparing yourself to write for newspaper and magazines as the industry was laying off people and closing newspapers.

Then, as thousands of enterprising journalism students, stay at home moms and ex-dot-com entrepreneurs started their own blogs you...well, you ignored this and continued to prepare yourself to write for magazines and newspapers that were (obviously) not going to be there for you once you graduated.

I could say a lot of things about your judgment but what I'll limit it to is this. You. Need. Some. Reality.

And you need to observe what you've been ignoring for the past several years. Journalists are paid - either by salary or freelance - to observe and inform. If you stubbornly refused to accept the reality of your choices, you are neither observant or informed. Additionally, you show no drive other than to work an internship in hopes that someone will hire you. So what good are you?

You understand nothing about the changes in your chosen field - even as they occurred in front of you - and you have chosen not to embrace where it is going. You don't even have the gumption to pick a topic, become versed in it and write about it online.

Why should someone hire you to do it when you won't do it for the sake of you own talent and love of the craft?

Fortunately, your training can also be applied to copy writing, editing, public relations, marketing, script writing and a host of other writing and communications-related areas.

How do I know all of this?

I was a newspaper reporter for 3 years in the late 80s and early 90s. I have since edited a magazine, had my own marketing company and now I work for a company designing and developing websites, producing videos and I write my own blog.

Ultimately, your problem is not that you studied print journalism and now there are no print journalism jobs.

Your problem is that you (allegedly) learned how to write, but you lack the imagination to find opportunities to leverage that skill into a paycheck and a purpose.

Cary's advice is fine as far as it goes. But romanticizing journalism is what got you in this situation so it's not likely going to help you out of it.

Get real, my friend. If you want to write, there are plenty of opportunities. But you will need to let go of the dogged pursuit of print journalism and expand your range of vision to find them.

That I feel a real need to apologize, Cary, for the times I read your column and called you a schmuck under my breath for the advice. (I read it often anyway; who's the schmuck here?)

That doesn't mean I'll agree often, but I should start thinking of your column with a bit more respect; thank you for what you said about our craft and the gifts it gives a writer.

You schmuck.;)

TraceElement: "And by the way, "LEDE" is not a word. Not in the English language as we know it in the United States, at least. The word for the opening of a news story is "LEAD.""

The word "lede" is a colloquial spelling used to communicate a specific editorial concept.

As for MaxMillion, you missed Trace's point, eh? The point was that the dictionary's first definition is as legitimate as its second definition. Your response makes it sound like you have a comprehension problem.

Reading the original letter, I am not convinced that no modifier was necessary. The writer could have written "I spent four and a half years" with no loss of meaning, because the second paragraph makes it clear he or she has graduated. Furthermore, the passage of six months since graduation makes the original assertion (with modifier) slightly inaccurate.

Change "Reading the original letter, I am not convinced that no modifier was necessary" to "Reading the original letter, I am convinced that no modifier was necessary."