I probably don’t watch enough DVDs to justify a subscription to Netflix, and given the dilatory nature of my viewings well, this is the sort of thing I mean:
[T]he film did not play here in the hinterlands at all, and when the DVD was released in December, I ignored it for two months, contrived somehow to have it back-ordered for two months, and when it finally arrived this week, I stared at it for two days, almost afraid to pop the seal, lest all the connections I’ve made to the book all these years might be disrupted somehow by the visuals.
(Should you be curious, this is the film in question.)
But my idiosyncrasies aside, I can still understand Blythe’s perspective:
I love Netflix as much as the next two million people that use it, but there was a special something about actually going to Blockbuster last night and that something was a Diet Coke and Twizzlers. Netflix can’t deliver that to your door. Unless I’ve forgotten so sign up for some new service. Which reminds me of the doomed Kozmo.com that I experienced my summer living in NY. Man, that was great. I could order a movie, Ben and Jerry’s, and Elle and it would arrive in maybe 36 minutes. Sweet.
Sweet indeed. Maybe someone will come up with good downloadable popcorn, as distinguished from that horrid toxic-waste-dump one pops into the microwave oven. (I can always pick up Twizzlers at the grocery, although my movie nosh of choice remains Raisinets.)