TV Is King

I stumbled across an advert at youtube the other day for Direct TV, which is a service I think my brother, Adam, has, aimed at the tens of millions of American professional football fans starring most of the Manning Family. Think of #FOYP as a cautionary tale admittedly one where, content, in this case pro football, is wagging the dog. 

We do not have this provider in my house-we used to have Comcast back when they strove to make the experience Comcastic and continually fell short. They then rebranded themselves to take all of us to Infinity and Beyond except not so much or so often.

About two years ago we switched over to U-verse and I now have more channels on one box than the Lord has angels dancing on the head of a pin (and I know this because I have eight or more religious broadcast outlets) while getting a haircut.  

I like it. So far (I don't rush into anything anymore). It does everything I understood it was supposed to do without getting goofy, though against the Mannings, it's hard to compete. 

This past weekend I discovered I could order through On Demand, an arm-wrestling championship for under twenty dollars. I'm not sure if you only want thumb wrestling if the price is pro-rated and, between you and me, I cannot imagine how much Jell-O incredibly beautiful but naked women would have to be standing in before I could offer Andrew Jackson a night out of my wallet. Perhaps if I can pick the flavor?

I think I can top the Mannings with Channel 96, a Karaoke application. There's not enough liquor in this hemisphere for you to drink in order to think I would sound good while singing, especially the stuff the channel offered as selections. 

I'm not saying it would sound like one of  levels of Dante's Inferno, but the stuff they pipe into the elevator that takes you there? Yeah, that's about right. #SMH.
-bill kenny