Denting the Cable – Part I

No… it’s a mule, jackass!

We don’t really mind paying what we think is fair, but considering how little television we watch these days (damn kids! damn jobs! damn time wasted on exercise and the outdoors!), it bothers us to pay upwards of $170 a month for cable television, internet, and a phone line from Comcast.

We like Comcast. They’re friendly on the phone. They give us new remotes if/when our dog eats (or more likely sits on and crushes) our clicker. Their services almost never go down for us, and when they do go down, they seem to come back up quickly. FIOS is not available where we are, so there’s no real competitor offering a comparable suite of services.

The real hurdles to us ditching television programming from the cable company boil down to 1.) the need to lean on television programming to keep the kids sedated for a few minutes, 2.) the need to watch NFL Football and 3.) the need to keep up with an endless list of craptastic, reality-themed, or so-you-think-you-can-do-something television shows my wife watches. These problems require different levels of gadget enthusiasm and tenaciousness.

Tech tastes good!

The child challenge is easily solved by a combination of the Roku and a subscription to Netflix and/or Amazon Prime. The whims of little people are admittedly unpredictable, but right now Dora the Annoyer, Dinosaur-themed toons like the odd Dinosaur Train, and Curious George are getting the job done.

I’m under the impression that the NFL challenge requires little more than an inside antenna. An antenna candidate is on its way this moment (more details on its effectiveness to come upon its arrival and setup). It also requires a small bar tab allowance for watching any necessary NFL network games at a local dive, but hey… that’s just like an away game once in a while. Done.

The “I want to watch the crappiest crap on television” issue is more difficult, because it brings crap channels like Bravo! into play. Can many of these be watched online? Yep. Is this as good as watching them easily on the biggest screen in our house? Nope. Netflix, Amazon, and even iTunes cover part of this problem, but too much of the pay per view route and we’re back where we started, but without the convenience of cable. Hulu? Maybe, but Hulu has some real programming holes, and what’s with the commercials? Antenna-powered Tivo to pick up the recording of over-the-air, and to provide access to Web content? Maybe, but apparently Tivo can’t stream Amazon Prime (as opposed to Amazon for pay), so that means the Roku has to remain as well. Clearly the solution is some sort of combination of these and maybe a few as yet unnamed services, with perhaps a way to easily sling a browser on to the big screen, but this is not sorted yet.

A quick look suggests that this is possible: $20 per month for 20MB down Internet from Comcast, $20 per month for digital phone line, $7 per month (broken down by month) for Amazon Prime, and $15 per month for Tivo subscription. This totals up to $62 for month… down from $170… not too shabby.

Abby plays soccer

Abby is now an Aztec… a member of the Danvers soccer team. It’s kind of like Manchester United, only a little more serious. Try to find Abby, or a soccer ball for that matter, in the following short film:

Universal Emily, Lindsey, and Nancy Thought Ticker

Overwhelmed (and a little frightened) by the sheer volume of phone calls between Emily, Lindsey, and Nancy, Verizon has announced that the unlimited friends and family plan will be discontinued for this particular family. In its place, LTE engineers have proposed an instantly-gratifying digital thought ticker to help Rooks women stay connected.

Liger Moore

I asked Jackson to give me a sign that his athletic prowess would be sufficient for him to scholarship himself through college without any parental financial aid. The following still shots provided just the confidence I needed to cash in his nascent 529 Plan and book a trip back to Jamaica! Thanks, little buddy. Can’t wait for your first Masters.

Early Halloween Negotiations

I’m not sure on who’s watch things fell apart, but believing as I do that Halloween should have at least a semblance of a frightening feel, I’ve started negotiations with Abigail earlier and earlier in the year in hopes of talking her out of being a princess. She agreed in March to be a pirate, but now that it’s July, talks are breaking down again.

Classic over-zest reminds me why I prefer strippers!

Having been recently savaged by several diminutive Rooks for being unacceptably pithy in relation to the spicy sauce keeping company a fish taco, I thought it a good time to remind everyone that proper tools make a noticeable difference in performance.

If you want me to produce zest on command, don’t hand me a damn microplane grater when the situation clearly calls for at least a dedicated hand zester, if not a full-on stripper! Graters, friends, tend to overgrate; it’s what they do. Don’t blame me for giant piles of bitter pith when you lay out the wrong equipment in front of me!

Butter like Buddha

The states of fat form a Counterwealth.

Another grand experiment begins!

Having recently been told that butter need not be religiously refrigerated, I have migrated a stick from the fridge to the counter housing our other household fats.

Note: don’t miss our groundbreaking, informativeĀ earlier post on butter.

Day #1 of Countertop Butter – 3/12/12

  • 6:30AM: Put butter on warm When Pigs Fly raisin bread. Room temperature butter goes on warm bread about how you’d imagine soft butter would go on warmed bread. Bread tasted really buttery.
  • 6:35AM: Not sick.
  • 11:41AM: Still not sick.
  • 12:00PM: Now leaning toward the idea that butter, like honey, is magical and takes care of itself… and butter doesn’t need angry bees… just ceramic Buddha… and you can hang out with butter without looking over your shoulder for bears. Grizzly Man is a terrible film, but it did get me thinking about man-eating bears and the need to not let man-eating bears regain a foothold in Boston… if they ever had a foothold in Boston. If the great white sharks are back, can the bears really be all that far behind them?
  • 12:45PM: Wondering if countertop butter attracts unwanted ants.
  • 12:50PM: Wondering if unwanted ants (who apparently have supernatural strength for their size) can lift Buddha to get at the butter.
  • 1:23PM: Confident that Buddha’s too heavy for the ants. Contemplating setting up a Butter-cam, though… just to be safe.
  • 2:45PM: Wondering if people would pay to watch a Web feed from my butter cam. This is the type of thing that you’d probably think was stupid (and you’d be correct), but the real question is not “is it stupid,” but rather “are there enough stupid people willing to pay to see something stupid.”
  • 3:15PM: Still waiting for my business agent to return my call. *Sigh*
  • 11:07PM: I asked ceramic butter-keeper Buddha, “what is butter?” He replied, “forty years and three pounds of flax.” Butter Buddha is wise… or I’m drunk… again.

Adults at our house = FAIL!

With a combined weight of less than 50 pounds, you’d think that a 3-month-old and a 3-year-old would be no match for their larger, presumably experienced parent(s). You’d think that, but you’d be wrong. We are now in little more than a controlled retreat until we can coax these malevolent beasts out of our house.

One! Two! Three! And stay down, Mom!

Hogan no longer even fakes it

I'd run... if I thought I had to.

Hogan has never thought much of the idea of him being a canine. He uses pillows like a human, he stretches like a cat, and should he find himself at a dog park, he goes over and stands by the chain link fence with the other owners. He’d smoke if he could… probably menthols.

One of the employees atĀ Paws Here, the doggy daycare that Hogan occasionally visits when his schedule does not mesh with ours, took me aside one day and suggested that Hogan not come on Thursdays, because Thursdays tend to be a busy time for them. She thought he’d enjoy Fridays better, since Fridays apparently offer a lower population of dogs. “He just doesn’t seem to enjoy playing with dogs. He hangs out with us instead of the animals. He sits in our chairs. He eats our bagels. He’s just odd.”

But this week Hogan slipped into complete denial. He agreed to walk around the reservoir on the end of a leash as long as it was agreed that I would feed him immediately upon our return. On our trip, however, he completely refused to chase… or acknowledge for that matter… an incredibly slow, dim-witted deer that waddled across the path in front of us and proceeded to stand staring at us. Hogan stared at the deer, did the math, and then proceeded to walk toward home. “You got a picture? Great, man. Let’s go. It’s a little cold.”

Do not be confused by the blurry photograph. Crappy phone camera, crappy photographer… but perfectly motionless deer that is about 25 yards away at most. Notice the distinct lack of an excited Ridgeback in the picture.