If you work at a newspaper, and you've been rattled out of the comfortable routine of ferreting out news for reliable and predictable readers, you'll recognize the b Section at once. The B is the Lewiston Sun Journal's way of reaching out to the beloved 18 to 34-year-old crowd now considered to be the daily newspaper's last hope

Publishers love those crazy kids. They're the movers and the shakers all the advertisers cater to. Bring those whacky young people over to your side, you might survive another year. Lose them and mister, you're sunk. Sell the presses and buy a yacht. Game over, man. Game over.

The Sun Journal launched the B Section midway through 2006. It's meant to be hip. It's meant to be cutting edge. It's bolder and racier than anything the daily can achieve, with its humdrum news and rigid AP style. Why, the very first week of publication, myself and other B contributors got nasty admonishments for using terms like "turd" and "MILF" in by God print. My attempt to use "balls of steel" in a live quotation spun off a days long debate among the editors overseeing the new tab.

I write a column and feature stories for the B section. I also serve as something of a staff stooge. That is, I'll go anywhere and do anything they ask me to do. So far, I've wandered the gritty downtown streets wearing bright orange Crocs to gauge the reaction of local hooligans. I've dressed as a very effeminite elf and played Santa's helper at the mall. Next I might be asked to hang out at an S&M club to report on the ins and outs of taking on leather. Lord, I hope so.

The old school part of me recoils at all this pandering to that vibrant age group, with their iPods, make out parties and AirSoft guns. Part of me revels in the element of participatory journalism it entails. I mean, let's face it: who doesn't like putting on tights and curly-toed shoes and hanging out at the mall?
I've said too much.

The designers at the B section are top notch and they work with the intensity and indefatigability of meth heads in an arcade. The dinosaurs among us might lament that more emphasis is being put on presentation than content, and that will rile any yellow-fingered journalist from the old school.

Me, I'm keeping an open mind. I have the daily grind four days a week and that's just fine. If prostituting to the youthful money crowd is what it takes to keep the paper pumping, I can probably put out a little longer. I really never had much self-respect to begin with.