Blip Service
This is how I plan to die.
This is part 42 in our never-ending coverage of the techpocalypse. Note to self: Kill everyone on staff for overusing the apocalypse thing. -Ed
Once upon I time I said, “Golly gee whiz wilikers, I wish I could see anything I wanted at the time of my choosing. You know, that on demand shit.”
That’s when Lt. Uhura showed up, called me “Captain Adventure,” stunned me with her phaser and uproariously laughed, “Be careful what you wish for.”
One thing they never told you. After one is stunned by a phaser blast one will tend to void their bowels. Finally something worthy of pay-per-view.
All Your Contents Belong To Us
White represents content available on more than one service. Red represents content only available in one place, i.e., the stuff you actually think you want.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news (actually not true) but I think I’ve figured out how it works. (I don’t just bitch, either. I’ll also include solutions. I’m proactive that way.)
- Netflix is the only source for Netflix Original programming: House of Cards and Orange Is The New Black.
- Hulu is the only source for Hulu Original programming: None come to mind but I do know they’ll have commercials.
- Amazon Prime has mostly the same shit.
- iTunes offers the same content but at premium ala carte prices.
- HBO is the only source for HBO Original programming: The Newsroom and Game Of Thrones.
- CBS is a bunch of greedy dillholes: Survivor and Big Bang Theory.
- MLB is the only source for most MLB Original programming but only if you have enough money. Otherwise they won’t even stream the goddamned World Series. (I was actually surprised by this, but only for a nanosecond.)
I prognosticated to my wife a long time ago that the days of accessing “content” would soon be coming to a close. This week we moved much closer to that reality. You like some shows on Hulu and some on Netflix? You’ll have to buy both even if the remaining majority of their DNA is essentially the same. Exclusivity is the ticket to getting customers to pay more than once. And make no mistake, it is all out global thermonuclear war on your wallet. That is the only thing that matters. They don’t do this for fun.
Who Is Hosing Me?
I hope y’all enjoyed the kid-friendly headline. It wasn’t my first choice. -Ed.
I’m looking at one of the 42,000 spinning animations that constitute the soundtrack of my life. In this particular instance it belongs to the Netflix app on my iPad. But really it could be any of them.
One question: Who is responsible for this outage outrage?
Yes, we have the technology to sell technology whether it is ready for prime time or not.
When I was a kid “sit and spin” was consider an insult. Now it’s a phrase that singularly defines an entire generation of tech-hungry consumers.
Who decided this shit was ready? Because I have a serious bone to pick with them.
The technology cycle works like this: Invent. Sell. Count your piles of gold. Then, and only then, stick your head up, look around and see how it works. (Just ask Apple about iOS 8.)
This thing, right here, right now, is not working. Since it takes about 42 pieces of tech just to make this go, how should I proceed? Is there a way for an average schmo like me to logically isolate the culprit? Is there anyone I can call who won’t say, “Nope. It’s not us,” and point the finger at one of the other 41 links in the chain, including me?
I think not.
Is it my ISP? The cable assholes of Satan? Is it the router? The modem? Any points of relay on the internet between me and them? Is it a problem in my iPad? Is it Netflix itself? Is it the Amazon Cloud where Netflix wisely decided to put their egg in a basket? Is it a fucking solar flare?
All I know is that I paid a lot of money for this shit and that money is long gone. And there’s no tech fairy who will make it right.
What a helpless feeling. It’s enough to make my head spin.
This post was written on an iPad using only one finger. Sheer torture.
Guru Movie View: The Paperboy
Movie still provided by Millennium Films. Copyright MXVIIVXIIMM. All rights reserved.
I don’t normally review movies as this space is reserved for more critical thoughts. This is a much needed one time exception. But I refuse to call this a “review.” I’m not going to re-view this shit ever again. -Ed.
Oops. Did the preceding comment give too much away? It was merely supposed to be a fluff piece of exposition to establish foundation. Spoiler alert. My bad. You might say I didn’t like this movie much. Now I’m going to spend some time trying to convince you why. If you like being pathetic and having absolutely no shame, read on with me, won’t you?
Nothing is worse than having a Netflix full of steaming streaming content. And yet there I was on the sofa, seven remote controls balanced carefully on my belly, and pounding my skull repeatedly with a hammer.
In that vein, I enthusiastically decided to queue upĀ The Paperboy. I wasn’t quite ready to put my hand in the garbage disposal yet. At least, I hoped, someone was going to spread that paper on the floor and some business would get done. (Poop tag earned.)
Prima facie, the movie is presented to the public ostensibly as an “entertainment.”
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Girls Day In
My wife in action. (Actor portrayal.)
There was a sense of strangeĀ foreboding. My wife had control of the remote. Boldly and apparently to no one in particular she announced, “I’m going to pretend that I’m home alone and watch whatever I want.”
Wow. So assertive.
The TV came on and the Netflix logo loomed large.
It was a cozy Saturday afternoon. The kind of day for which I live. Outside were blue skies. Inside the sunlight streamed in windows. It was quiet. We were basking in the luxuriousness of nothing to do. My wife snuggled up in her TV blanket. I did the same. Cats were lounging around and purring.
These are the moments of which dreams are made. I believe it is times like these that make life worth living. No work. No responsibilities. Safely ensconced in your castle. Nothing to do except stretch out under your blanket. The rest of the world can wait.
Where the hell is my damn cup coffee with International Delights creamer? I want to celebrate this, one of the moments of my life!
And it was all going so good, too. Perhaps a little too good.
Then she pointed that thing at the TV and pushed PLAY.
This shit just got serious.
Netflix! Is there anything it can’t do? I mean besides show me a list of “Recently Watched” titles?
Netflix in Fuckflux
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Netflix Extracted My Balls #netflix #balls
Seriously. I mean, why even put words here? There’s no need to hook you in the cheek and reel you in until you drop on the deck and flop like a fish. The subject line speaks for itself, right? The simple fact is: The subject line worked. You’re already here. Game over.
Once again I had to take it on the chin from Netflix. Netflix is The Evil. And for those tedious little nits keeping score, yes, I used the words “balls” and “take it on the chin” in the same post. This shit is cutting edge. If that doesn’t prove you are in the presence of true quality I don’t know what will.
Let us dispense with the pleasantries and get right to the motherfucking point. Make the jump to push play on this internet appliance.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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