Finally. FINALLY.
I have DVR. I can pause live TV. I can rewind. I can record and watch at my leisure. I can skip commercials.
Sounds trite, no?
Put the remote in your hand. Feel the power surge. You are the master of the entertainment console, nay, a ... god of entertainment. Those silly channels have no power over you now. You don't like what they're saying, but still want to watch the show? Pause, skip. Commericials can sell you nothing now!
Mwahahahahaha!
Hmm. Okay, I get carried away.
So, the guy comes to hook up my dish. I have had satellite in the past and have hooked them up myself, but I wasn't going to turn down free installation. He was three hours late getting to me. Let's analyze three hours late. The delivery time from the get go isn't a set time, but rather a block of time. "Oh, the intaller will be there sometime between noon and 5 p.m."
Noon and 5 p.m. That's a hunk of time. And then the dude doesn't show up until 8 p.m. Now, I did finally get a call at 5 p.m. telling me that he wasn't going to be here until 6 p.m., and that was nice. And then I got a call from the installer himself telling me it was going to be another hour on top of that. Where the other hour came from I can only assume is some bizzare and Lovecraftian trick of time where installers warp the very fabric of reality, adding precious minutes to their travels.
Had the dude looked like Nyarlathotep, I probably wouldn't have held a grudge.
I did find my new favorite channel though. The Documentary Channel. Lucky for me that last night, just as I was getting ready to call it a night, they aired a documentary on the electric guitar.
Heaven.
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