Salon runs a series called "Object Lust," in which a writer espouses the virtue of a recent fetish, guilty pleasure, or otherwise new discovery. Maybe I'm just feeling snarky, but today's installment - in which the writer gushes about Netflix - strikes me as, well, a little late to the party.
"Now I live with no deadlines. No minimum or maximum number of DVDs. And no judgmental clerks. I can have practically the entire Criterion Collection and every volume of 'Freaks and Geeks' at my fingertips. And I can luxuriate in every bonus feature without speeding through to get the damn thing back by noon. Dude!"
Please, let me know if I'm being that guy. ("What? You don't know about Netflix? What's the matter with you? Oh my GOD, you're out of touch! EVERYONE knows about that! You're so out of it!") I used to live with that guy, and I eventually hated virtually every word that came out of his mouth. It's a wonder I'm not in jail for attempted homicide. So if that's how I'm coming off, slap me perspective into me. Otherwise...
Is there anyone who doesn't know about Netflix by now (other than Mary Elizabeth Williams, the author of the Salon article)? It's responsible for virtually every pop-up ad or banner you have to deal with these days. It's the reason Blockbuster claimed to waive its late fees. When I recommended it to a friend, he immediately made a face and said, "Yeah, their ad is all over my screen everyday. No thanks." Never mind that he has kids and would probably save a bunch of money in late fees (not to mention having to buy every DVD that's released by Disney, out of parental obligation).
You think Salon would accept an article from me that fawned over the wonders of Caller ID? ("Now I can see who's calling me! And if I don't want to talk to annoying what's-her-face, I don't have to! You guys should all get this!") I guess I won't know until I try.
I'm being that guy, aren't I? Dang it.
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