Well, I went out and bought a wireless network adapter to earlier this evening and I'm waiting for it to install...I think there's something wrong with it, or with my laptop. It's taking forever to install. That is, if it's even installing. It may just be hung up. Hell, I don't know. I never said I was a computer whiz. I'm most definitely not that. All I know for sure is that I am frustrated and confused about it all. I knew I should have taken computer classes when I went to Junior College. Good God, that was back in 1982...Can you imagine what I could have done by now if I'd graduated with one of those degrees?
While I wait, I will regale you with the tale of a recent experience I had at a nearby Wal-Mart.
I'd been wanting a home theater system for a long time. I'm finally able to afford one (nothing too fancy, mind you) so I went to Wal-Mart to scope out what they had to offer. Not a whole lot, let me tell you, but there was a Samsung unit that looked pretty decent. I decided to go with that one.
I bought it and brought it home. We were busy moving into the house, so I planned on hooking it up when we were a bit more settled in.
A couple of days later I decided the time was right, so I opened up the box and dug in.
The first sign that something was wrong-one of the speaker wires was all tangled up, not secured with a twist tie like the others. Upon further investigation I learned that there were only four speaker wires. There should have been six, seeing as how this was a 5.1 surround sound model.
I dug out the receiver and noticed a few smudges on the top. Fingerprints. I was certain I had not touched it.
Then I found the remote, which was loose, not bagged. That was strange enough. But when I opened the back of it and found the batteries already installed I knew that there could be but one explanation:
Wal-Mart had taken it back as a return, repackaged it (poorly, I might add) and sold it to me as new.
As you might expect, I was a tad pissed off. Gas ain't cheap and Wal-Mart ain't all that close to home, so a return meant at least ten bucks worth of fuel out of my pocket. Not to mention the hassle of packing it back in the box and lugging the piece of junk back to the store. But most of all I was irked that they had the gall to sell me a product that had already been used (once something is out of it's wrapper/box it is considered used, as far as I'm concerned). My wife tells me that Wal-Mart is notorious for doing that. I suspected she was right, but now I was convinced.
I took it to the return desk where everything went rather smoothly...the employee behind the counter asked why I wanted to exchange it. I said that there were things about it that had me convinced that it had been returned and repackaged, then sold to me. She wanted details, so I reeled off the list of reasons. As soon as I got to the part about the batteries already being in the remote control I saw it in her expression. She knew I was on the level, and she was most likely well aware of the store's history of repackaging. For what it's worth, I also got the impression that she likely agreed with me that it was a shitty, unethical thing to do. All that from the look on her face.
I got another one. Lo and behold, the batteries were packed in a separate baggie from the remote (which, unlike the last one, was also in a baggie of it's own). Aha! There were 6 speaker cables here! The top of the unit was glossy, not a smudge on it.
Anyhoo, I got it all hooked up. Sad to say but I'm actually disappointed with it. The sound is just not as impressive as I thought it might be. The bottom end is too heavy and there's no equalization to correct it. The remote control is too complicated and you have to be in "stop" mode to access any of the system's menu screens.
All in all I wish I'd saved the money. It's not a bad DVD player. It does go "boom" extremely loudly when something blows up on screen. That's about the only difference I can hear from when I had my other DVD player hooked up through my Cerwin-Vegas.
The only thing I'm more disappointed about is the Dish Network I hooked up with last week. Oh, God, don't get me started about that...
8.08.2008
"Livin' Thing 1-7"
1.
I’m told it’s a “living thing”, a given thing and, moreover, is a terrible thing to lose. ‘Nuff said, ‘kay?
2.
What was she doing at the reception? Why was she so envious of his riches? How many drinks under her belt since she started on that glass of wine she‘s holding in her hand right now? So possessive.
I always seem to run into her at the drug store. I wonder what kind of medication she takes. Some incredibly strange desire to know this floats through my ghost. Some generic anti- depressant or maybe something stronger, along the lines of thorazine or haldol. A bizarre sense of arousal consumes me as I fantasize about popping those pills with her. I don’t care what kind they are…if they cure what ails her then they’ll probably take care of what’s wrong with me.
I remember…it was just a week or two ago. Once again I bumped into her at the drug store. She was looking good. Real good. The prospect of reading the labels on her medicine bottles was overpowering, finally knowing the names of the many prescriptions she had filled once every month.
My plan was thwarted, however, when she ordered a soda. I never did find out those drug names, but I learned something which I felt could very possibly change the odds of she and I hooking up. And that is this: her favorite flavor is cherry red.
I don’t think she has a boyfriend, but there is this guy who is always coming around for no real reason. He seems to think that he’s her old man. I often pretend that I believe it as well. One night the three of us went to a karaoke bar. I got just drunk enough not to care if I made a fool of myself having fun. The other two in our party had no problem nominating me for the opening act.
I walked behind the booth and introduced myself to the DJ.
“Yo, yo,” he said, after I told him my name and shook his hand. “I’m DJ Crackhead. Steady chillin’ and ill feelin’, I got the wax and the tracks if you got the crack, Jack. Now get off my back ‘less you got somethin’ you want to karaoke to.”
“Actually, I do have a request. Do you see that hot little red head in the Hooters tank top? The one sitting next to the pimply faced weasel? Well, I’m wantin’ that dame for my own and I need to lose him. I need to shout out respect to my bitch and be dissing this dweeb at the same time. Can you play some Stones? I’m thinking ‘Satisfaction’ or maybe ‘Get Off Of My Cloud’?”
“Gee, G! I can float them joints easier than the pope be funny dressed. ‘Get Off Of My Cloud’, baby?”
“Only seems fitting. Let’s do this, Rider!”
As the short, sharp beats of the song bring down the house, to thunderous applause I strutted to the microphone. “People!!! All 6 of you! That’s not counting the bar tender or the wait staff, so we can’t really count this as the largest crowd we’ve ever had attend one of our shows. But I’m gonna tear the rood off this sucka’ with a brutal Rolling Stones tune I’m gonna send out to my gal’s old man, Jimmy!”
I wailed the hell out of that song. Jagger would have been proud of me, that’s for sure. He would have invited me back to the limo to maybe mainline a little smack with him. Everyone in that place was getting into it, but not Jimmy. Oh no, not Mister Jimmy. You could tell he was getting into the song itself, but not the singer.
As the song faded out I returned to our table, sweat dripping off of me like raindrops that fell into her wine glass. Wiping myself with a napkin, I turned to her and asked, “Did you like that one, babe? Did that spectacle turn you on?”
She replied, “O God, yeah! Yeah on both counts!” She leaned towards me and whispered in my ear, “You know, if we could ditch Jimmy I would sure be up for some kink-a-dee-kink. All the time you sang about “not hanging around” and how “two’s a crowd” on your cloud, I could only think of this leach. You’ve got to help me, sweetheart, you’ve just GOTTA!”
“I’ll do what I can,” I said quietly, then turned to Jimmy. “ Well Ol’ Jimmy, Ol’ Jimmy “ Boy, what did you think?”
He looked me square in the eye. I knew he meant business. You could tell by the squint in his eyes. He blinked once and said one word…”Dead”.
3.
Did we really count to one hundred? Why were we counting and perhaps even more important, WHAT were we counting? Why did the object being counted need to be counted to? Was 100 the exact count? Could we count further than 100? Did we have to keep counting even if there are only 79 units in total? Can you explain? I can’t.
4.
You got a big mouth. You know that’s an undisputed fact. When it comes to informing the town about the fine details of my alcohol problem…well that‘s where I draw the line. You are one hypocritical, self-serving, self-righteous biddy who doesn’t know when to shut up.
Everyone knows I’ve been drinking and foolin’ around. The Lord knows I’m sinning and God knows sinning ain’t right. But we’re gonna chat it up tonight, and if you want to see a change of attitude and tone, well I suggest that you stick a sock in it.
5.
Chewing on a piece of grass.
Walking down the road.
Wishing on a falling star.
Waiting on the early train.
Aging with time
Alligator lizards in the air…
Interlude.
All is quiet, save the ringing in the ears. The darkness envelopes me completely, I’m lying in it’s arms. Insatiable demands we’ll make against the wisdom of the Overlords. Who see it through those eyes that criticize all they don’t understand. They don’t understand me or you. You or me.
6.
Sometimes I just like to sit back and take in a good nostril or two of pungeant skunk stank. Years have come and years have gone but one thing has remained…I ain’t a-offended o’ the smell o’ Pepe LePew.
I don’t know but that my opinion might change if one o’ them little rascals were to saunter up to me and spray his stench on my leg. The buck will probably stop there.
But anymore that stuff just reminds me of the killer bud.
7.
The wolves ain’t the only critters howlin’ at the moon tonight.
That’s what she told me as inspiration swirled down the drainage ditch into the vat of apathy.
“Jump in, Jim, let’s go for a swim.”
She took off her clothes and I couldn’t help but stare.
I’m told it’s a “living thing”, a given thing and, moreover, is a terrible thing to lose. ‘Nuff said, ‘kay?
2.
What was she doing at the reception? Why was she so envious of his riches? How many drinks under her belt since she started on that glass of wine she‘s holding in her hand right now? So possessive.
I always seem to run into her at the drug store. I wonder what kind of medication she takes. Some incredibly strange desire to know this floats through my ghost. Some generic anti- depressant or maybe something stronger, along the lines of thorazine or haldol. A bizarre sense of arousal consumes me as I fantasize about popping those pills with her. I don’t care what kind they are…if they cure what ails her then they’ll probably take care of what’s wrong with me.
I remember…it was just a week or two ago. Once again I bumped into her at the drug store. She was looking good. Real good. The prospect of reading the labels on her medicine bottles was overpowering, finally knowing the names of the many prescriptions she had filled once every month.
My plan was thwarted, however, when she ordered a soda. I never did find out those drug names, but I learned something which I felt could very possibly change the odds of she and I hooking up. And that is this: her favorite flavor is cherry red.
I don’t think she has a boyfriend, but there is this guy who is always coming around for no real reason. He seems to think that he’s her old man. I often pretend that I believe it as well. One night the three of us went to a karaoke bar. I got just drunk enough not to care if I made a fool of myself having fun. The other two in our party had no problem nominating me for the opening act.
I walked behind the booth and introduced myself to the DJ.
“Yo, yo,” he said, after I told him my name and shook his hand. “I’m DJ Crackhead. Steady chillin’ and ill feelin’, I got the wax and the tracks if you got the crack, Jack. Now get off my back ‘less you got somethin’ you want to karaoke to.”
“Actually, I do have a request. Do you see that hot little red head in the Hooters tank top? The one sitting next to the pimply faced weasel? Well, I’m wantin’ that dame for my own and I need to lose him. I need to shout out respect to my bitch and be dissing this dweeb at the same time. Can you play some Stones? I’m thinking ‘Satisfaction’ or maybe ‘Get Off Of My Cloud’?”
“Gee, G! I can float them joints easier than the pope be funny dressed. ‘Get Off Of My Cloud’, baby?”
“Only seems fitting. Let’s do this, Rider!”
As the short, sharp beats of the song bring down the house, to thunderous applause I strutted to the microphone. “People!!! All 6 of you! That’s not counting the bar tender or the wait staff, so we can’t really count this as the largest crowd we’ve ever had attend one of our shows. But I’m gonna tear the rood off this sucka’ with a brutal Rolling Stones tune I’m gonna send out to my gal’s old man, Jimmy!”
I wailed the hell out of that song. Jagger would have been proud of me, that’s for sure. He would have invited me back to the limo to maybe mainline a little smack with him. Everyone in that place was getting into it, but not Jimmy. Oh no, not Mister Jimmy. You could tell he was getting into the song itself, but not the singer.
As the song faded out I returned to our table, sweat dripping off of me like raindrops that fell into her wine glass. Wiping myself with a napkin, I turned to her and asked, “Did you like that one, babe? Did that spectacle turn you on?”
She replied, “O God, yeah! Yeah on both counts!” She leaned towards me and whispered in my ear, “You know, if we could ditch Jimmy I would sure be up for some kink-a-dee-kink. All the time you sang about “not hanging around” and how “two’s a crowd” on your cloud, I could only think of this leach. You’ve got to help me, sweetheart, you’ve just GOTTA!”
“I’ll do what I can,” I said quietly, then turned to Jimmy. “ Well Ol’ Jimmy, Ol’ Jimmy “ Boy, what did you think?”
He looked me square in the eye. I knew he meant business. You could tell by the squint in his eyes. He blinked once and said one word…”Dead”.
3.
Did we really count to one hundred? Why were we counting and perhaps even more important, WHAT were we counting? Why did the object being counted need to be counted to? Was 100 the exact count? Could we count further than 100? Did we have to keep counting even if there are only 79 units in total? Can you explain? I can’t.
4.
You got a big mouth. You know that’s an undisputed fact. When it comes to informing the town about the fine details of my alcohol problem…well that‘s where I draw the line. You are one hypocritical, self-serving, self-righteous biddy who doesn’t know when to shut up.
Everyone knows I’ve been drinking and foolin’ around. The Lord knows I’m sinning and God knows sinning ain’t right. But we’re gonna chat it up tonight, and if you want to see a change of attitude and tone, well I suggest that you stick a sock in it.
5.
Chewing on a piece of grass.
Walking down the road.
Wishing on a falling star.
Waiting on the early train.
Aging with time
Alligator lizards in the air…
Interlude.
All is quiet, save the ringing in the ears. The darkness envelopes me completely, I’m lying in it’s arms. Insatiable demands we’ll make against the wisdom of the Overlords. Who see it through those eyes that criticize all they don’t understand. They don’t understand me or you. You or me.
6.
Sometimes I just like to sit back and take in a good nostril or two of pungeant skunk stank. Years have come and years have gone but one thing has remained…I ain’t a-offended o’ the smell o’ Pepe LePew.
I don’t know but that my opinion might change if one o’ them little rascals were to saunter up to me and spray his stench on my leg. The buck will probably stop there.
But anymore that stuff just reminds me of the killer bud.
7.
The wolves ain’t the only critters howlin’ at the moon tonight.
That’s what she told me as inspiration swirled down the drainage ditch into the vat of apathy.
“Jump in, Jim, let’s go for a swim.”
She took off her clothes and I couldn’t help but stare.
Sigur Ros @ MoMa
What a fantastic show this is. Most of these songs were performed at the Kansas City show I attended in June. All I can say is...in my world Sigur Ros are the greatest band that has ever walked the face of the earth.
Watch it now before the link goes down.
Watch it now before the link goes down.
8.07.2008
In the course of reviewing songs at Garageband.com it is not so often that one comes across a track that is worth the trouble of providing a link to here at the old bloog. But if you like IDM along the lines of Aphex Twin and Autechre, I really think you'll enjoy this one:
"100 Days"
Music For Kids
Music For Kids
8.06.2008
"Southland Tales"
If you thought "Donnie Darko" was fucked up, you ain't seen nothin' yet. An incoherent, mind-boggling mess. Incredibly strange...immensely enjoyable. There's no way anyone could wrap their head around this film in one sitting."There Will Be Blood"
I had the opportunity, over the weekend, to see P. T. Anderson's fourth and most recent movie, "There Will Be Blood". I am a huge fan of Anderson. His "Magnolia" is in the top 5 of my favorite films of all time. I can't say, at this point, if "There Will Be Blood" is on the same level of greatness as that one is. I need to watch it again. But it is very, very good. Tedious at times, but that only serves to make the more bizarre scenes come off surreal. The one where Plainview (Day-Lewis) gets baptized is hilarious. Daniel Day-Lewis turns in a great performance, as is to be expected. But I was most impressed with Paul Dano, who I had never heard of until now. He played evangelist (false prophet) Eli Sunday in such an eccentric manner that it was riveting. Just a great movie, and I think I'll rent it again this afternoon. Of course, that's a recommendation.
Over the past few days since we moved I kept a "move journal" that I'd planned to post here. It was up to 8 pages long when our local internet service came back up. Unfortunately I can't use LAN on my laptop and the WLAN from Windstream is still down. So I tried to convert the newest version of Microsoft Word Processor into a different format so I could transfer it to a flash drive and it would be recognizable on our main computer.
Fucked it up. Lost it. It is a testament to my novice computer skills that I don't know how to retrieve it. It's okay. Like I said, it was rather lengthy. I doubt anyone would have the patience to read through the whole thing.
In it's condensed form...
We moved into the house I grew up in. When the owner showed it to us it was the first time I'd been inside it's doors in 9 years. My dad's wife had, by that point, become adamant about my family not spending the night there even when it was an emergency. I don't know what she was trying to prove or why she was such a hard-ass about it. The weekend my dad passed away my family was in a bad way of one sort or another and we really needed a place to crash for the night. Dad was happy to let us but he was always respectful of her wishes so we had to ask her. It's hard to say it, especially now that he's gone, but she always had him wrapped around her finger and that usually meant that he had to go without doing some things he wanted to do while she had her way. For example, when I was playing in the house band at Charlie's Palace he never once came to see me. All my life he had been extremely proud of my musical accomplishments. He loved to hear me play country music. I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to come see me play. But he never did. And there was only one reason. His wife. She envisioned herself a spiritual giant and was a stalwart member of a local Freewill Baptist Church. She didn't think too highly of places like Charlie's Palace (even though it had nothing in common with the kind of dive bars she may have legitimately wanted him to stay away from). She wouldn't be caught dead in a joint like that and dad wouldn't go out by himself without her, especially knowing how she felt about it.
That was only one example, but I digress...
Long story short, she would not let us stay at the house, knowing full well that it was only for that night. I'm also sure that she knew my dad had no problem with us bunking down there...I don't doubt that he would have let us stay there as long as he wanted if she hadn't been so against it. There was a confrontation at the last moment when I tried one last time to get her permission. One of her worthless sons was there and he decided he would put his two cents worth into the pot. We exchanged heated words and it was on the verge of violent fisticuffs when the police showed up (my wife had called them when we first got there, correctly prescient about what was to come). They kept us at bay and no one went to jail or had any charges filed against them. Then, a day or two later, my dad died and none of that mattered anymore. I knew I'd never see the inside of this house again. She never forgave my dislike and suspicion of her. She made a scene in the waiting room before the funeral and it was obvious that she wanted as little to do with us as we did with her.
Which brings me back to how lucky we are to finally be back here. Can you imagine the sense of revenge against her that I feel in being here? I try not to let it get to me. I'm not typically a vengeful person. But it's like the cherry on top, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, obviously the memories have been coming hard and heavy. I focus on the good ones. The bad ones are easily kept at bay. I've come a long way since those were made. I can look back on them now not as disappointments, pains and conflicts but as lessons learned. Stones in the pathway. What point is there in dwelling on them? Better to squeeze out every drop of happiness from the good ones.
Memories like the time my brother and I were shooting cans with a BB gun and I told him to shoot me in the ass, because I wanted to see if it would hurt much. I stood about 15 yards from him and he let 'er rip. Bullseye, as it were. Yes, it did hurt. Quite a bit, actually. I don't know what the hell I was thinking.
A day or two after we first got here I went out to the tin shed in the back, the one my dad built when we first moved in (back in 1970). It was a cool little building where he stored his lawn mower, his garden implements, his tools, that kind of stuff. Behind it, though, I stored something of my own. I had a lock box full of pages ripped from Playboy and Penthouse. I'd bartered a copy of Alice Cooper's "Billion Dollar Babies" for it. I couldn't have been older than 14 at the time. At any rate, it was a treasure chest that I did not want my dad to find. I don't think he ever did, as I eventually hid it elsewhere and he never said anything. In fact, I hid it so well the second time that I lost it. That was a sad day.
Stuff like that. Big memories, small ones. Important and trivial. Now that we've been here for a few days I'm able to shut them out until I want to reminisce. Stacie said, a couple of days ago, that she didn't know how I could be here without constantly thinking about my dad. She said every time she looks at the kitchen sink she almost sees him (he was always washing dishes there). She was very fond of dad and I'd bet that she is almost as glad to be here as I am. I know she is.
Anyhoo, we decided to go with Dish Network instead of cable. We thought the picture quality, being all digital, would be better. We were WRONG. Maybe it was a screw-up on the installers part, I don't know, but the picture is less than I expected. Very slightly blurry, no crispness...With our basic cable we at least received the networks High Def broadcasts in that format (Letterman, Leno, Today show all broadcast in HD). With Dish you don't get that. An upgrade to their HD service is required for ALL HD broadcasts. I've called tech support, but I don't think it did any good. I'm prepared to accept that it may well be my television, the size of the screen and the limitations of a regular (non-HD) signal. I hope not, cuz I paid big bucks for that thing. No matter, we may lose a couple of hundred dollars for breaking our contract with Dish Network but it may be worth it to switch back to cable. Right now that is the only choice other than upgrading. I suppose we should upgrade just to see if it would work out, if it would be worth the extra money per month.
A bit of advice to anyone thinking of getting Dish...the channel line-up for their "America's Top 100" package is weak. Weak weak weak. The "Top 200" doesn't look too bad, and of course the "Top 250" is gonna have a few worthwhile offerings. But if you can only afford the "Top 100" you will likely be disappointed....Oh, I don't know, that's probably just me. I'm hard to please.
Fucked it up. Lost it. It is a testament to my novice computer skills that I don't know how to retrieve it. It's okay. Like I said, it was rather lengthy. I doubt anyone would have the patience to read through the whole thing.
In it's condensed form...
We moved into the house I grew up in. When the owner showed it to us it was the first time I'd been inside it's doors in 9 years. My dad's wife had, by that point, become adamant about my family not spending the night there even when it was an emergency. I don't know what she was trying to prove or why she was such a hard-ass about it. The weekend my dad passed away my family was in a bad way of one sort or another and we really needed a place to crash for the night. Dad was happy to let us but he was always respectful of her wishes so we had to ask her. It's hard to say it, especially now that he's gone, but she always had him wrapped around her finger and that usually meant that he had to go without doing some things he wanted to do while she had her way. For example, when I was playing in the house band at Charlie's Palace he never once came to see me. All my life he had been extremely proud of my musical accomplishments. He loved to hear me play country music. I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to come see me play. But he never did. And there was only one reason. His wife. She envisioned herself a spiritual giant and was a stalwart member of a local Freewill Baptist Church. She didn't think too highly of places like Charlie's Palace (even though it had nothing in common with the kind of dive bars she may have legitimately wanted him to stay away from). She wouldn't be caught dead in a joint like that and dad wouldn't go out by himself without her, especially knowing how she felt about it.
That was only one example, but I digress...
Long story short, she would not let us stay at the house, knowing full well that it was only for that night. I'm also sure that she knew my dad had no problem with us bunking down there...I don't doubt that he would have let us stay there as long as he wanted if she hadn't been so against it. There was a confrontation at the last moment when I tried one last time to get her permission. One of her worthless sons was there and he decided he would put his two cents worth into the pot. We exchanged heated words and it was on the verge of violent fisticuffs when the police showed up (my wife had called them when we first got there, correctly prescient about what was to come). They kept us at bay and no one went to jail or had any charges filed against them. Then, a day or two later, my dad died and none of that mattered anymore. I knew I'd never see the inside of this house again. She never forgave my dislike and suspicion of her. She made a scene in the waiting room before the funeral and it was obvious that she wanted as little to do with us as we did with her.
Which brings me back to how lucky we are to finally be back here. Can you imagine the sense of revenge against her that I feel in being here? I try not to let it get to me. I'm not typically a vengeful person. But it's like the cherry on top, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, obviously the memories have been coming hard and heavy. I focus on the good ones. The bad ones are easily kept at bay. I've come a long way since those were made. I can look back on them now not as disappointments, pains and conflicts but as lessons learned. Stones in the pathway. What point is there in dwelling on them? Better to squeeze out every drop of happiness from the good ones.
Memories like the time my brother and I were shooting cans with a BB gun and I told him to shoot me in the ass, because I wanted to see if it would hurt much. I stood about 15 yards from him and he let 'er rip. Bullseye, as it were. Yes, it did hurt. Quite a bit, actually. I don't know what the hell I was thinking.
A day or two after we first got here I went out to the tin shed in the back, the one my dad built when we first moved in (back in 1970). It was a cool little building where he stored his lawn mower, his garden implements, his tools, that kind of stuff. Behind it, though, I stored something of my own. I had a lock box full of pages ripped from Playboy and Penthouse. I'd bartered a copy of Alice Cooper's "Billion Dollar Babies" for it. I couldn't have been older than 14 at the time. At any rate, it was a treasure chest that I did not want my dad to find. I don't think he ever did, as I eventually hid it elsewhere and he never said anything. In fact, I hid it so well the second time that I lost it. That was a sad day.
Stuff like that. Big memories, small ones. Important and trivial. Now that we've been here for a few days I'm able to shut them out until I want to reminisce. Stacie said, a couple of days ago, that she didn't know how I could be here without constantly thinking about my dad. She said every time she looks at the kitchen sink she almost sees him (he was always washing dishes there). She was very fond of dad and I'd bet that she is almost as glad to be here as I am. I know she is.
Anyhoo, we decided to go with Dish Network instead of cable. We thought the picture quality, being all digital, would be better. We were WRONG. Maybe it was a screw-up on the installers part, I don't know, but the picture is less than I expected. Very slightly blurry, no crispness...With our basic cable we at least received the networks High Def broadcasts in that format (Letterman, Leno, Today show all broadcast in HD). With Dish you don't get that. An upgrade to their HD service is required for ALL HD broadcasts. I've called tech support, but I don't think it did any good. I'm prepared to accept that it may well be my television, the size of the screen and the limitations of a regular (non-HD) signal. I hope not, cuz I paid big bucks for that thing. No matter, we may lose a couple of hundred dollars for breaking our contract with Dish Network but it may be worth it to switch back to cable. Right now that is the only choice other than upgrading. I suppose we should upgrade just to see if it would work out, if it would be worth the extra money per month.
A bit of advice to anyone thinking of getting Dish...the channel line-up for their "America's Top 100" package is weak. Weak weak weak. The "Top 200" doesn't look too bad, and of course the "Top 250" is gonna have a few worthwhile offerings. But if you can only afford the "Top 100" you will likely be disappointed....Oh, I don't know, that's probably just me. I'm hard to please.
Music Video of the Week: Richard Ashcroft
Switch off the player at top...switch on the player here...it should be obvious...
"Bittersweet Symphony"
Richard Ashcroft
Richard Ashcroft
8.05.2008
Wow. While my internet has been down I won "Track of the Day" at Garageband.com for "Take You To Hell".
See! I told you it was good!
Furthermore the song won Best Programming and Most Original for the week of 7July2008.
YIPPEE!!!
Haven't heard it yet? Check it out!
"TAKE YOU TO HELL"
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