Society

FROM THE CRANK FILE: The Pitfalls of On Demand service

James R. van Houtte

Last night, the wife and I, having exhausted Netflix and animal sacrifice, turned on the idiot box. Not the television, mind you, that’s a source of great information as long as it’s printed on a Digital Versatile Disc. No, we turned on the cable box, the gateway to disappointment late on a Sunday night. After musing about watching Rocky V with commercials, the DVD not ten meters away, we decided to check out Comcast’s “On Demand” service. Since I’m the “Society” guy according to the lummoxes who paste this website together with string and the distended anuses of used hamsters, this will have a point, but it might take a while.

For those of you unfamiliar with On Demand, I’ll introduce the concept. Also, start paying for cable, you cheap toothless prostitute. I might mock its offerings from last night, but it’s the only way to see aging pop stars find true love through the process of elimination. Also ESPN Classic.

On Demand turns your cable box into a cavalcade of what the culture industry has produced for passive enjoyment in the past couple of months. Movies, TV Shows, Sporting Events, even seasonal novelties are available for instantaneous transmission straight to your television. Essentially, it’s a gimmick to get people to put an actual cable box in their house instead of leeching cable (illegally, and for free) by splitting a neighbor’s hookup.

Some of the offerings are free, but here’s a sampling. Under “Free Movies” there’s 3 Ninjas Kick Back, An American Tail 2: Feivel Goes West, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, Firefox, which is sadly not a documentary of my favorite browser, American Ninja 2, etc. Under “Free TV,” some of the series offered include “The New Adventures of Old Christine,” “Life on Mars,” and “Mama’s Family.” The free section does go for throwbacks more often, but who in their unemployed, crack-addled mind would watch “Mama’s Family”?

To get the good stuff, such as it is, you need to pay big time money. 99 American cents for a TV show for 24h, and $3.99 for a movie for 24h. Granted, this is cheaper than going to the movies, or producing a CBS sitcom, but this service is clearly for those who don’t shop on iTunes or Amazon. One day, that’s all you get. You can watch it as many times as you want in 24 hours, which for most people means once.

Back to the plot here, I was feeling pretty neutral about the whole thing, so we watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. Since I’m not the movie guy on this site, I’ll spare you the details, but it was probably the worst piece of dogshit I’ve ever seen. It made over $100 million dollars because it had a spritely, overly cutesy trailer that gave away three or four of the only creative things said in the film. “You speak Prada?” being the most odious. What troubles me more is the number of Borders (yes, Virginia, the bookstore) having heavy product placements throughout the film. Apparently the film is based on a series of novels that cashed in on The Devil Wears Prada. Go figure. Please buy my new book Perry Tottle and the Stone of Sorcery.

After sitting through this Brand X movie, which we both panned, we realized the real pitfall of On Demand service. In three weeks, when we get our cable bill, it will be itemized as a purchase. We will be reminded of watching this cinematic stillbirth, and then promptly charged for it. If we had seen it in the theatre, we could have had a laugh about it, gone for an ice cream, and fallen asleep on the toilet like a normal, happy couple.

Suffice it to say, On Demand has its problems. In the motif of the essayist heroine of Confessions of a Shopaholic, I’ve decided to make an allegory between shopping and social problems. Using On Demand service is like buying a bag at Coach—I’d rather eat a bag of Chlamydia-soaked screwdrivers.

It’s about 8 AM, so I’m eating breakfast while I write this. Here’s the recipe.

Hamalicious Ham Sandwich

Take 1 Hamburger bun, apply mayonnaise to the top and honey mustard to the bottom. Sprinkle your favorite Louisiana Cajun seasoning on the mayo. Add two or three thin slices of ham. Assemble sandwich and serve with pepperoncini or gardiniera. Serves one. Get your own.

James R. van Houtte lives and works within a 500 mile radius of Chicago, IL, and that’s too damn close.