I have two rather large flat-screens in my apartment, but I don’t subscribe to cable, except for internet service. I have a DVD player and a ROKU box for streaming.
I endured so much channel surfing and "words from our sponsors" while my kids were growing up that I gleefully refuse to pay for 104 stations of unreality shows, sarcastic sitcoms and bad commercials. I've learned to entertain myself.
Life is real enough. Watching actors pretend to be stressed and clever just isn’t stimulating. I’m not amused by sarcastic, humiliating dialog that suggests I laugh at another’s shame. I could knock on every other door in the neighborhood and catch the real deal.
With the money I save by not contracting with the cable companies, I‘ve built a respectable collection of great DVDs that I enjoy enough to watch over and over. I pick out one that fits my mood, pop it in the DVD player and watch my favorite actors and characters fall in love, find themselves, have an adventure, or brave danger and risk without 15 commercial breaks that suggest I crack open a beer, eat a bag of chips and order pizza delivery. I like choosing a movie, flopping on the bed with the cats and watching it without distraction. When one of my family phones from afar or my bladder suggests a trip to the throne room, I have this great “pause” button on my remote. I can kibitz with my kids, take care of business, wander through the kitchen for healthy snacks…or not, and still get back to the movie before I’ve forgotten the plot. If I get sleepy, pause still works. I can pick up where I left off tomorrow. I like choosing what I watch and controlling how and when I watch it.
So I’m a control freak? Maybe I am. So much of life is out of control that it’s nice to know I have some power over my entertainment, my snacks and my sorry bank account.
I had a sweet thing going with Netflix for a while that let me watch streaming movies for free and fill in the blanks with new features I wanted to see on rental discs delivered to my door. Really sweet. But alas, it was too good to last. Netflix got banker-flu and decided they could squeeze a little more blood from my stone by splitting up the packages and making me pay twice. Not gonna happen, Netflix. I dropped the delivery movies and kept the streaming. Now it seems that Netflix purposely puts fewer new or highly rated movies in the Instant Play queue. Netflix is living its final days in my house. There are other options out there…..and I still have a great collection of personal favorites right in my living room.
I don’t have a copy of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but I can buy it used on Amazon for about what I’d pay to rent it from Red Box and with my Amazon Prime free shipping, it’ll be here in two days…..like Netflix. Then I get to keep it for next year. Amazon Prime also gives me free streaming on a small selection of movies.
Cable companies and Netflix are really scary Grinches. I’m still fairweather friends with Amazon but……that mean Grinch green is a greedy thing.
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… As the Grinch took the tree, as he started to shove, he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who. Little Cindy Lou Who, who was no more than two. She stared at the Grinch and said..Santie Claus, why? Why are you taking our Christmas tree? Why?
But do you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, that he thought up a lie and he thought it up quick.
Why my sweet little tot... The fake Santie Claus lied...
...there's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.
I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here.
And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted her head, he got her a drink, and he sent her to bed.
And when Cindy Lou Who was in bed with her cup, he crupt to the chimney and stuffed the tree up. Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar, and the last thing he took was the log for their fire. On their walls, he left nothing but hooks and some wire.
And the one speck of food that he left in the house was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse…..
from How the Grinch Stole Christmas - Dr.Seuss
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