I now have a domain name - vincesweeney.com - and that makes me feel good...for at least a couple seconds, that's when it becomes apparent that all you need is an unused name, a credit card, and there you go. I bought it months ago and just let it sit parked. Some years ago I checked vincesweeney.com only to find someone else owned the name. Whoever had it, let it go. Thanks to the other Vince Sweeney. I don't know who you are, could be we're related, if only somewhere way back in the mists of time. Maybe the bones of some shared ancestor now sit in a peat bog in County Clare.
Realizing that there's a catenema.com doesn't do much for your own bloated sense of self-worth in owning a doman name. Listen, between you and me, you'll find some good advice on that cat enema site, and it can save you some serious money...if you love cats. I love cats, a topic for another post. I love dogs, too. And all creatures great and small, I love them like it's my job, because it is. Also a topic for another post.
So, maybe we should talk about the weather, eh? Not a chance. I did weather for over 20 years. 15 of those years were a joy, the last 5 were a nightmare. The Nightmare on S. Franklin St., starring a cast of dozens, at least.
Don't look for a lot of specific TV bashing on this blog. Not that there's any shortage of things to bash. If you sat down with a beer and got yourself working on a "to bash" list, it would be long list indeed.
I sort of figure a lot of whining about the state of local television would make me look like a bitter old man, which I am not. Bitter? At times, sure, you bet. Old? 57 now. But you can't put them together and come up with a bitter old man. OK, I suppose you could, but don't look to me to give you the glue to make any of it stick.
For now, let me groan about a certain cellular phone service provider. A few weeks back I popped on in their big local store, needed myself a brand new phone. No reason, just wanted a new phone, a new toy, you all know how that goes.
So, says me, "What can you do for me?" The young lady says, "Nothing right now, it would be full retail price." I'm a bit annoyed. "Full price, nothing off, not a nickel, right?" Smiling, and looking a little embarrassed, she says, "Sorry, but you don't qualify until twenty months into your plan."
My plan, she has to know, is a business plan - she has my life story right there in front of her on a clipboard - which includes several phones. More phones were to be added during that visit, with even more to come in the very near future.
I thought a bit. I wasn't happy. She knew we were giving her corporate monster a fair amount of business. I didn't want a phone for free, but I sure wanted some sort of a token gesture from this company. I wanted a, "Hey, we're happy to have your business. Sure, we can work with you." Instead, I was getting, "Beat it, no discount, you signed the contract, you know the deal."
OK. I do know their deal. Now, here's my deal; when my plan is about to end, it will. You won't be getting us as repeat customers, nor will you get my personal business ever.
They won't care. Even though I did politely tell her to tell her supervisor they'd lost our business, they won't care. But I will. All I wanted was a token gesture. They flipped me off, so the least I can do is flip them off. Vote with your feet. Americans have come to accept sub-par products and services. Bill Maher's POed about that. Me, too.
