On our best weeks, I hope the same can still be said, owing less to my own contributions than to those of our rich pool of freelancers (some of them now quite a bit younger than myself), and to the indefatigable Ella Taylor, who is forever looking out there and reporting back on her finds. Will the Weekly and its film section still be around at 40? If so, I’d wager that they will no longer be things you hold in your hand (unless you happen to be holding your iPhone or BlackBerry). But with any luck, at some distant star date, when print media seems as far from our collective experience as cave paintings do to us now, some intrepid editor of the version of this paper that you download directly into your brain, faced with yet another daunting anniversary project, will delve into some considerably less dusty archive and exclaim: “The L.A. Weekly at the dawn of the 21st century — wasn’t that a time!”
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