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Netflix VS Shaw
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Who's Your ISP?
- Hits: 3558
Now imagine that you owned a cable company that made exorbitant sums of money over charging people for things like Pay Per View Movies. $6.00 a movie overcharging. And it worked for years, decades even, and you were able to pay your children (and executives, in the rare instances they weren't your children) tens of millions of dollars a year.
But then along came a company - Netflix - with a different business model. One that involved paying a nominal monthly fee ($8.00) that allowed you to stream or download as many movies as you wanted each month for the same price that you charged for a single Pay Per View Movie. What would you do? Would you challenge your children to come up with a competitive business model? Would you perhaps adjust their salaries to reflect the new "tough" times? Or would you lobby the CRTC to allow you to impose a bandwidth cap and charge users for downloads and internet usage? (thereby recouping some of your losses)...
We know what Shaw's doing. Visit stopthemeter.ca and sign the petition to make the internet - and cable company - a slightly more competitive place. Before it's too late. And really, does Jim Shaw need any more of your money to fund his drunken "tell it like it is" luncheons?
Antique Fruitwood Card Table
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: For Sale
- Hits: 4988
"You didn't have to shoot him, Colt" he said as he turned over the body lying on the table. "He only had a 3 and a 6. Nothing."
"Dead Man's Hand" said Ned, shaking his head sorrowfully. "3 and 6. Dead Man's Hand".
Hop Singh Joomp, or "Tex" as we called him, had been one of the best Poker players north of the 49th, but this was his last game.
"How much did I win?" I asked jauntily, trying to dispel the pall that seemed to have fallen over the table.
"Thirteen dollars 49 cents, 2 dollars of which are in Canadian Tire Money" said Shade. Shade was his name because of the green visor he always wore when playing cards.
"I think we should cancel poker night" said Ned, always the sourpuss. "That's 4 people you've killed in 4 weeks. I thought it was supposed to be a friendly game.."
"Can you get me another Coconut Rum Cooler, do you think Angel sweetie?" I asked the barmaid, trying to slip one of my newly won Canadian Tire Dollars into her G-String.
Angel was the topless waitress we brought in to serve beer on Poker nights. ....
***
We haven't had a friendly poker night ever since and so I've decided to sell this fine fruitwood antique card table. It's fruitwood because it's not Oak or Pine and what other kinds of wood are there? The pictures say it all. I work odd hours but could be around on the weekend if you're interested, or if you just want to drop around for a friendly game of cards ....
In the Shape of a Boar - Lawrence Norfolk
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Books
- Hits: 1852
Interesting. Some curious ideas curiously woven together (they make sense later) - and self-referential, it's inspired me to do a little research (fact checking? It's made me curious is all).
Looking for home....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1982
I'm with my children, the boy and the girl, and we're going home. It's a grey day, featureless, the boy is walking with us just out of reach, the girl, she's clinging to me, she's sad and crying.
There's a long row of condominium / townhouses, they vary in size and shape but they're all connected. I live somewhere in there, but I'm not sure exactly where, and we climb a flight of stairs to this covered "subway" type platform and she's there. It's her, only she's exaggerated in limbs, extra thin, long, long legs and arms, a slender torso, she's wearing a short skirt and a corset and a Venetian half mask and she's come to surprise me, she's wearing a wide, toothy smile like you might imagine the joker to be wearing....
When she sees us she laughs lightly and runs away down the stairs on the other side, laughs like a Japanese Geisha, then she returns and follows me, talking, prattling. The children don't recognize her, but my daughter is clingy, sad, holding on to my side. She's lost the mask and is prattling to me, talking, trying to make plans for a rendezvous, right now I don't care, walking across the parking lot, an empty field, the town-homes extending off in an endless row to the horizon, I just want to find our home.
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