The pillow fight at the Los Angeles Times is endlessly amusing, but far too inside baseball to chronicle in detail. Mark Steyn has this, and Patterico this, and Mickey this.
The worst paper in America has been shedding readers right and left, is locked in chronic dullness, and survives on the habits of Dodgers' fans too comfortable in their ways to learn how to get the box scores online. Advertisers are waking up to the fact that the number of copies printed has very little to do with eyeballs that see their pitch, and the irrelevancy of the paper's stories is almost complete.
Meanwhile there is much harrumphing among the old guard, like retired colonels at a men's club remarking on the way it used to be.