Beth and I came back from Christmas at her folks. I turned the TV on and sat watching the shroud of doom lower itself down the screen. bugger. I remember the last time this happened, we looked around trying to figure out how to fix the problem. Not now. Now, our reaction is, "Ah well lets get another one." When I was a kid a dying TV was a huge deal, where the whole family would try anything to keep it going, dodgy plugs could be stuck back together, lopsided screens, which is what you get if you drop your portable down the stairs, could be loved for their quirkiness, TV's that may or may not come on had their own frisson of excitement. Not now. Ailing electronics are binned immediately, bring forth the successor!
I'm off for my 18th infusion later on today. The infusion, which lets me walk and is ever so useful, only works for 24 days, then the new bloodfire must be implanted! Have you thought of curing the disease? Course not, there's no repeat profit in that. I don't think they've ever got over sorting polio out.
Everything is upgraded constantly, what you buy is technically dead on arrival. Except stupid ideas, which live on the power of loud repetition, until the crap they spout gets moulded into a huge brick of shit fact. We live with shit ideas and dying stuff. Bless. Amen and so forth.
And now, the TV just came back to life. It was either me singing at it or Beth plugging the power cable properly...
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