Because I know you miss me when I don't write.

The summer Olympics start later this week, I think. I’m wondering if the Olympics aren’t just as irrelevant as beauty pageants. After all, it isn’t like the athletes of the world never get together. Plus, the sham of the USA basketball team is so ridiculous that it has gone from “Dream Team” (remember them?) to just a bunch of guys. I find it difficult to summon up a lot of Olympic Pride for LeBron James and the other billionaires.

So it turns out that Morgan Freeman’s car crash companion was his girlfriend and now that the cat’s out of the bag (so to speak) he’s admitted that he and his wife are divorcing. Ain’t that always the way? You’re out gallivanting with one of your wife’s friends and you flip your car over a few times. Let that be a lesson to you: If you’re gonna cheat, use public transportation.

I got that Garmin nüvi thing in the mail yesterday. What an awesome little piece of technology this thing is. It comes pre-loaded with points of interest with everything from ATMs to hotels, restaurants and entertainment venues. It harkens me back to the days when dad would round us up and we’d go for a ride. Anyplace, just get in the car and go. Sadly, neither my father or cheap gasoline is around anymore; and the days of the joy ride are approaching an end. At least now I know I’ll never waste gas by getting lost and driving in circles, so in the long run the thing may pay for itself.

I got a nifty gift in the mail on Tuesday. It was a small box from Comcast that contained a card. I figure they put the card in a box to insure my opening it. Generally, anything in an envelope from the cable company that isn’t a bill goes straight to the trash can. Shrewd marketing. Sometimes I even throw the bills in the trash.
The card contained “congratulations” for my being a loyal customer for 17 years – as though I had a choice – and said that as a reward I could have a year of free Showtime, Movie Channel or Starz. Skeptically, I read the fine print (which happened to be in a strange small, grey typeface) and before I glazed over, I didn’t see anything that would lead me to believe that it was a scam.
I called the number and sure enough, a friendly Comcast representative assured me that it was legit, and asked, “Which one do you want?”
“I would like Showtime, please.” I said ‘please’ because I know that they record those conversations for reasons only they know.
In a wink of an eye I had Showtime on my TV. They do that stuff remotely now, which is interesting. I figure they can tell what I’m watching all the time too, which is why I watch a lot of high-brow stuff and try to stay away from the shopping channels and the equally stupid TV stations that play music, as though I want $60 a month radio.
So let the record show that 12 months from now I will have completely forgotten that the Showtime I’m watching is reaching its expiration date and I will start paying for it and procrastinate long enough to make their clever marketing campaign profitable.