July , 2014

Dear New York Times:

I first fell in love with you as a freshman at Penn in 1976, using the student discount to afford the luxury of your paper delivery. And for the past 38 years, I have been addicted to the daily fix of turning your gorgeous pages as I imbibe my morning coffee, and spending lazy weekend mornings under the covers with you at my side. It has been a great ride: the tantalizing touch of human interest stories, mouth- watering foodie articles that I could practically taste, and holding your intoxicating crossword on my lap as I tried to complete your thoughts.

But I can no longer get into bed with anything that disregards my values and treats my intelligence with disdain and disrespect. I am disgusted with your palpable political bias against Israel, the only democracy in the frightening Middle East and the best ally the United States has ever had. I can’t trust you. Do you really think I can believe your stories any more? A little wandering I could tolerate during our long relationship, but this summer your treachery hit new heights with your twisted words and unilaterally-contorted images.

Instead of accurately investigating and reporting the news of the Arab-Israeli situation these last few weeks, you have been editorializing and espousing your opinions. Not only is this behavior offensive to me personally, but you are feeding the infectious fury of virulent anti -Semitic sentiment that is roaring through our crazy planet and threatening the stability of our greater world. I have no choice now but to ask you to leave my home. And, while I admit that I will miss you terribly and that no other newspaper can fill the void your departure will create, I prefer to engage in social intercourse with those whose who make me feel safe.
You may think that there are a lot of other people out there prepared to give you a shot, but the educated balanced resourceful population is no longer buying your words.

Maybe after you begin to report the news fairly, we can meet for coffee again. But until then, you are out of my life.
Nina Kampler
Teaneck, New Jersey