Though I'm not one to read too much into happenstance omens, oh man, I passed this on Broadway the other day. A puddle of wet magazines discarded among the autumn leaves and dog shit. The crow flies! We're all doomed! What does this inauspicious muddle of magazines tell us? Who is the first to go? Well, judging from this pile, W Magazine is on the way out. Ditto GOOD although we all knew that. And, of course, PRINT is a goner. Deadsville.