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Alas, alack, and so on. We all have this ideal in the back of our minds, some general conception that once upon a time the Voice was something interesting and vital and, well, worth the mild irritation of walking to the box on the corner to pick up. (It is now none of these things.) We know that it allegedly has a hallowed history, that it was once something you had to read to be one of the cool kids, and that at some point in the past people were even willing to pay for it. Today, of course, it's barely even worth not paying for (although it does serve an important purpose when you have a long subway ride to Brooklyn ahead of you and realize you left this week's New Yorker in the apartment). Even despite all that, it seemed sad when the anti-globalization, anti-conglomeration, anti-just-about-everything-that's-a-reality-today Voice — of all places — just the other week was swallowed up by the big chain of so-called "alternative papers." It seemed to be the John-is-killed nail in the coffin that would ensure the glorious past would never be relived.

But hold the phone there, Sally. Long-ago Voice vet Mark Jacobson has an interesting piece in this week's New York that, first, vividly brings to life all that collective-unconscious consciousness of Voice vitality past — yes, it really was as interesting and exciting as it's rumored to have been — and, unexpectedly, creates a decent argument that the alt-chainers from Phoenix might just be the last chance the paper has to get better.

And this much, at least, is certainly true: There's no way it's getting worse. So why not?

The Voice From Beyond the Grave [NYM]