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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo was just about to compose a long diatribe about Netflix’s crumbling DVD service. (My queue just ran out and I’ve spent the last hour or so recharging it.  I’m up to about 70 movies, but it was hard work.***)  Based on my previous experience, the current format makes it damme hard to browse effectively.  Plus, a lot of titles previously available have simply disappeared.  Also, the suspiciously high number of “saved until available” hits I’ve got for what ought to be fairly popular movies seems to indicate that Netflix has  given up on any real effort to replace destroyed copies.  (I can’t get “The World Is Not Enough“? Really?)  Finally, I no longer see any effort to expand their library beyond anything other than “new releases”.

I’ve a sinking feeling that Netflix’ll probably discontinue the whole platform within the foreseeable future and stake everything on their (also) dying streaming service.  Then where will Ol’ Robbo be when it’s not baseball season?

Anyhoo, as I contemplated expanding the previous two paragraphs into many more, Mrs. R came storming into Port Swiller Manor in a high state of disgust.  She’d just been to a meeting of the local philanthropic wimminz group of which she is a member and officer.  Apparently, the town community center which they wish to use as a venue for one of their fundraisers recently had an attack of wokeness and is now only offering its cheapest rates to entities that can demonstrate their own lack of barriers and prejudices.  So in order to get the best rate they could, Mrs. R’s group voted this evening to eliminate all “sexist” language from their bylaws.  They’re still, let us say, the Old Dominion Ladies’ Alternative Junior League, but they’ve replaced all the “she’s” in the bylaws with “he/she’s”, etc.

“What the hell?” Mrs. Robbo asked, in my opinion quite reasonably.

She abstained on the vote itself, but wanted to know if this meant men would be allowed to join the club.  Oh, no, she was assured, it’s just a thing to get the better rate, since we always need to save money.  Nothing to see here.  Move along.

I’m not sure if she’s more disgusted at the community center’s new regime, or at the club’s mealy-mouthed efforts to conform with it.

Mrs. Robbo is a very non-political sort of person and wants only to get on with others, and often has rolled her eyes at Ol’ Robbo when he’s got up on his hind legs about some Socialist Juicebox Wanker issue or other.  But something like this just might make her realize the truth of Trotsky’s dictum that “you might not be interested in strategy, but strategy is interested in you.”

 

***Feel free to toss Ol’ Robbo any movie suggestions.  I’ve profited greatly from friend of the decanter tips in the past.

 

 

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