Please note: The following post arose out of a strange (and probably passing) desire to attempt to write something useful. I apologize in advance for the comparative lack of sophomoric humor, perverse stories, and/or poop jokes.
Hi, my name is Pete, and I used to flush good money down the toilet by paying for cable television. I have been clean for over a year now.
Know what's weird? When we think of our utility costs each month, almost all of us include something odd. Electricity. Water. Sewer. Trash removal. Telephone. Gas. Heating... And cable TV? Hmmm. One of these things is definitely not like the others. So how did we get into the habit of paying a recurring monthly fee for an entertainment service?
The answer is simple: Back in the day, you didn't have much of a choice. Analog broadcast television was god-awful. The reception would come and go, the picture was often crappy, and you usually didn't get very many channels to choose from. When it first came out, cable TV was a godsend. And it only got better... As the years went on, more and more channels were developed and presented on cable. The variety of programming available increased at an astronomical rate. Flip through today's channel listings, and you'll find something designed to appeal to damn near everyone. There's a show about a guy who whispers at dogs, and a show about a guy who intentionally gets lost in the woods and survives. You can watch people repair and upgrade their homes, you can watch people drive big-rig trucks on ice, and you can enjoy the visceral thrill of watching people behave badly in "reality" situations... The possibilities are endless.
Unfortunately, as the amount of programming available on cable has increased, so has the price. Drastically. The last month that I paid for cable TV service, my bill was upwards of $150. No joke. That's enough to put a substantial dent in my car payment, but I didn't really pay it any mind because cable is one of those "normal" utilities that you just have to get.
Wrong.
You see, I try my best to be careful with money. Yes, I'll blow it on stupid things occasionally... But I like to make sure that I'm not getting jacked on my monthly expenses. And when I bought my house last year, I had a great opportunity to review everything and weed out or adjust the stuff that I didn't really need.
Cable at my new place would have been a pain in the ass. Truly. My house is new, and it came with exactly one cable outlet. One. In order to run cable to other rooms, I would've had to install more outlets myself (275 pound man climbing through the attic... Sounds like a party, right?) or pay Cox to do it. You know, pay them to install each outlet so that I could then pay them their monthly tithe of $150 for a service that I don't actually even use that often. To be totally honest, I found that idea offensive. I also don't really care for the Cox cable company. It's a long story, and I'm not going to bore you with it... But I used to joke with Cox's sales and service reps on the phone by saying that the company really lives up to its name. (There's a great potential blog headline, incidentally: "PETER JOHNSON FIGHTS IT OUT WITH COX." Heh heh.)
Satellite TV looks cool on the surface. You get a nifty little dish, plunk it in the backyard, and pick up TV signals. The prices that they presented looked great, too... At first. After careful investigation, (by which I mean that I actually read a couple pieces of satellite TV junk-mail before tossing them) I discovered that Satellite television is like a shit sandwich. They hold it at just the right angle to make it look appealing, so all you see at first is the bread and a little bit of the lettuce poking out the sides... When you take a bite, though, you discover the hidden turd. And in this case, said turd is twofold: The great introductory prices that satellite TV companies offer expire after a while and become pretty damn awful. What's worse, they generally try to hook you into a multiple year contract. You know, so you can't run for your life when they up and start molesting your wallet.
So if cable sucks, and satellite sucks, and you still want something to watch... Then what do you do?
Simple: HDTV antenna + Netflix + Internet = WIN.
Did you know that broadcast television comes through the air in HD these days? Well I didn't. Imagine my surprise the first time I hooked up my new ($40) antenna, and watched my screen light up with a brilliant, high-definition signal. I was furious. One of the main reasons that I used to pay for cable was so that I could watch football. Most football games are on the major TV networks, all of which are available via broadcast with an antenna. That $150-per-month cable TV I used to have? It was analog!
Next, I went online and subscribed to Netflix. For about $25 a month, I get access to their enormous library of television shows and movies, all delivered via the internet. (Most of which are also delivered in HD. CURSE YOU COX CABLE!!!) They also send me 3 Blu-Ray movies per month, which also eliminates the need to rent anything when I want to watch a movie. Not bad. If you want to stream Netflix's online content to a TV, you'll need what their website describes as a "Netflix-capable device." This sounds intimidating, but you've probably already got one. The Wii, the PS3, and the X-Box 360 will all stream Netflix. You can also use a internet-capable Blu-Ray player, a laptop (preferably with an HDMI output), or even hook a desktop computer to your TV. Personally, I use my PS3. (Which I picked up for $175 on Craig's List, by the way. I love CHEAP!)
Now I don't watch a lot of TV, because I'm more likely to play video games or surf around on the internet... But my girlfriend does, so I needed something that would allow her to watch her favorite shows that don't come in via antenna. This is easy: Almost all of it is on the internet. If you can use something to stream Netflix to your Television, then odds are that you can use that same something to stream the internet in general. Once you can surf the 'Net from your TV, it's just a matter of finding what you want to watch. A lot of shows can be streamed from the websites of the various TV networks. Others can be found on sites like Hulu. You can also download episodes of whatever you're into, and stream them from your computer.
None of this is really rocket science, but still there's always the risk that it won't really work. Well I can vouch: It does. I ditched my $150 cable bill for a $40 antenna and a $25 Netflix bill, and I don't miss it a bit.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
How do they manage to sell cable TV anymore?
Friday, June 10, 2011
Epic Retail Sagas, Part I
Here's a little-known fact about me: Back when I was in college, I used to work at a certain well-known discount apparel store. I used to do their cash accounting on weekends, and when I got done with that I'd go up to the front of the store and run the return desk. Sounds pretty normal, right?
Wrong.
I've never seen so much crazy shit happen in all my life as I saw go down at this store. From the creepy to the gross to the crazy to the profane, we literally had it all. (Sounds like a great slogan, right there.) While I worked there I was constantly telling stories to my friends and family, and they'd always say that I should write them down... Well guess what? I couldn't think of a good topic for this evening, so I decided to follow everyone's advice and relate one of my many crazy retail stories... And since, for some reason, I'm feeling all artsy-fartsy this evening, I'm going to tell it in verse. Yeah, that's right. So, without further ado...
Once upon a time,
I worked in a store.
You'd think it would be quiet,
and sort of a bore.
T'was a discount shop,
In a rich part of the city.
We had many shoppers,
And some of them were shitty.
They did things that were crazy,
And things that were gross,
But there was one certain old man,
Whom we hated the most.
He wore a straw hat,
With a look of composure.
And the shortest of shorts,
For indecent exposure.
He spoke in a whisper,
Perverted and throaty.
And we all called him "Truman,"
Because he looked like Capote.
He'd follow female shoppers around,
Up and down each aisle,
And try to look up their skirts,
With the sickest of smiles.
People would get angry,
And we'd get many a complaint.
But when we'd follow him,
He'd act like a saint.
At least, that is,
Until one summer day.
When he grabbed one shirt,
And headed the fitting room way.
He checked in politely with the girl
At the fitting-room door.
And there he remained,
For three hours or more.
He emerged looking happy,
His face glowed like the sun.
He handed the shirt to the girl,
And he told her "I'm done."
The way that he said it
Left her somewhat disturbed
As did the way he ran for the door...
Without another word.
The man was a pervert,
She began to suspect,
So she went into the stall he had used
To have a little check.
I still remember the scream.
It echoed through the store.
I ran back expecting
To find blood on the floor...
Now this man was not a thief,
Or a violent attacker.
But I'd have taken a dozen of either,
Over a fitting-room whacker.
He'd ruined the curtain,
That hung 'cross the stall door.
The details would make you quite ill
So I shouldn't say more.
Our manager had to clean it up-
He looked like he wanted to quit,
But nobody else got paid enough
To handle that shit.
He wrapped the curtain in plastic sacks,
And tossed it in the trash,
And said to me, "IF TRUMAN COMES BACK,"
"YOU F#^*ING KICK HIS ASS!!!"
Then back to his office,
Our poor manager did slink...
To ask corporate for a new curtain,
And probably have a drink.
And so I was surprised,
When he came back out in a hurry.
His steps were loud and angry,
His face clouded with fury.
He told me what happened,
And my faith in humanity was lost.
When we went out to the dumpster,
To find the curtain we had tossed.
You see, corporate is nasty...
Like a mean older brother.
They told him, "Wash the curtain!"
"Because we won't send you another!"
And so we took the sticky curtain
Back into the store...
And the manager opened
The petty cash drawer.
He reached on in,
And took out three hundred bucks,
Then he looked me in the eye,
And said "This really sucks..."
"...But take this thing to the dry cleaner,
The one that's close by...
Tell them to wash it as much,
As that money will buy."
The cleaners washed the curtain
In every possible way.
And it still hangs in that store,
To this very day.
We never saw Truman again,
Which was lucky for him.
His odds of survival,
Would've been rather grim.
But I'll tell you one thing,
And this is for certain:
In a discount store's fitting room...
DON'T TOUCH THE CURTAIN.
~fin
(P.S. Some of y'all know exactly what store I'm talking about... For the love of God, don't name it in the comments. I don't want to get sued. Gracias.)
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Single Man Survival Guide Part I: The Bachelor's Shopping List.
In case you didn't know, I'm an unmarried, 33 year-old man who can be incredibly antisocial at times and detests having roommates. As such, over the years I've become something of an expert in the fine art of living alone as a single man. It was recently suggested to me by a friend that, since I had decided to take up word-puking (aka 'blogging') on the internet anyway, I might as well try to do something useful with myself and pass along those few bits of knowledge that have managed to lodge themselves in my cranium over the years... And so, here we are. This topic is far too large in scope to address in a single blog post, so I've decided to break it down into smaller chunks and sprinkle them in occasionally amongst my insipid ramblings.
For the convenience of my readers, (all two of them... Hi mom!) I decided to write the first few posts in this series in the form of a shopping list that can be printed out and taken to the store. Why? Because men don't make lists. We remember stuff. Or at least we remember stuff until we get to the store... At which point we forget stuff and pace the aisles in a state of grouchy fury, wracking our brains feverishly for our forgotten mental list and taking great pains to avoid the tampon aisle. So, without further ado...