I’m crushed that the Blockbuster is closing.
Going to Blockbuster was pleasure shopping for me. I could read the boxes and peruse the new releases and chat with the film-savvy clerks about what was good and what was just body counts and explosions. It was great.
In this new hands-off era, though, I had to knuckle down and figure out how to hook our home up with Netflix, the on-line service that delivers movies to your TV through the Interwebs. That part took me a couple of days because it kept asking for a password which I didn’t have and had never set and I couldn’t figure out if this was for Netflix, the DVD player, the router or the TV (it was all very complicated), and finally I just got angry and started punching in random numbers and lucked onto it. I’m not kidding. I guessed a four-digit password. Why can’t that happen when I’m playing the lottery?
The strangest part was when I got into my brand new Netflix account and found a bunch of recommended movies in “My List” that I’d never heard of. Smut and Westerns, primarily, which are definitely not my cup of tea.
Only after I’d deleted all those titles and spent almost two hours replacing them with movies I want to see — cute romantic comedies, heart-warming kid flicks, science fiction thrillers, and smart independent films — did I realize that the DVD player thought I was “William” and this wasn’t my Netflix account, it was someone else’s.
In my defense, I bought the DVD player brand new from Walmart, so it wasn’t my fault that Netflix thought I was William when I used it to sign in. Yes, I should have been quicker to pick up on how screwy the list was and that it referred to me as “William.” But being new to this, I didn’t know what it should look like.
I only feel a little guilty about this misunderstanding because, really, will it kill the guy to watch something worthwhile for a change?
Sorry William, I’ll get it reset this weekend and you can go in and rebuild your list to your smutty, Westerny liking. In the meantime you might want to watch that one movie in “our” list about the kid who finds salvation playing some obscure sport. Squash? Field hockey? Curling?
It looks adorable.
Janet Jacobs is City Editor of the Daily Sun. Her column appears on Saturdays. She may be reached by email at email@example.com. Want to “Soundoff” to this column? Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
I’m crushed that the Blockbuster is closing.
Salute to 'Mr. Derrick Days'
I can’t help but think back to the “near-death experience” that Derrick Days had 14 years ago, and how one man’s determination brought it back.
I was 29-years-old when my father died of multiple myeloma, cancer of the bone marrow. He was 53 years of age. Only hours before his death, I spoke with him. Our eyes met during that final visit, the same eye contact we had shared from my birth.
It’s about time
Some aspect of time steals quietly into our psyche in all conscious moments, and our use or abuse of it is central to much poetry, lyrics, scripts, conversations — you name it.
The Wonderlic Test
Did you hear the one about Texas A&M’s “Johnny Football” Manziel testing better than all the other quarterbacks in this year’s NFL Scouting Combine? No, this is not the start of an Aggie joke.
Work Out? Bite your tongue!
I've shared this before, but it bears repeating. I'm a lot like my late, dear Daddy … whose idea of “working out” was a good, brisk sit.
Amen, Daddy. Me too.
Letters to the Editor for Saturday, April 12, 2014
Thanks for service
To the Editor: The Blooming Grove Elementary School would like to express appreciation to several individuals and businesses that for three years have provided a “free” vision exam and eyeglasses for many of our students.
Uncle Mort: For the Birds
Personal experiences racked up across three-quarters of a century — including yips and yaps at lecterns spanning five decades — offer positive proof that many times, utter silence is preferable to spoken words.
For many years, in a previous life, I had somewhat of a reputation as a master-of-ceremonies and I stayed relatively busy at that avocation. I never met a microphone I didn’t like
Gotta love a small town
There's so many things to love about living in a small town. Why just last week I got to hang out with my ex-husband, his folks, his wife and baby at the Youth Expo. Then just a day later, I got to see my other ex-husband and his wife at the hospital, when one of our daughters got sick and landed there.
Weird foods on our shelves
The Atlantic magazine reported recently that sales of frozen pre-packaged dinners are falling and Nestle is considering selling off its Lean Cuisine food line.
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- Salute to 'Mr. Derrick Days'