Cut the cord

You know, I’ve thought about it.

Cut cable. Fuck Comcast once and for all. Fucking prick shit assholes.

Have I mentioned there is pretty much nothing good about Comcast? Xfinity? Whatever the fuck they call themselves now? Or whenever.

I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, how shitty can a company actually get?

They overcharge for everything, are generally assholes, and are just all-around crap.

But then again, this is nothing new. This is not groundbreaking news. Pretty much any human who has had any interaction with Comcast knows they are garbage.

Why do I write this? I’m whipping myself into a goddam froth just thinking about what a horrible bowl of shit Comcast is.

I guess it’s somehow cathartic? Fucking ranting on some television blog that nobody reads. Weeping, moaning. Damn, it’s Friday night, man, and I’m here fucking up my blood pressure going off on some shit company that doesn’t care about me, or you, or anyone for that matter.

Anyway, what the fuck was the point of this? Oh yeah, growing a pair and cutting the fucking so-called “cord” and getting off this Comcast shit.

Going rogue, with PS4 Vue, or just the Apple TV or whatever.

But it seems so scary. Denuded. Naked and afraid in the woods with nothing but my wits and no fucking cable.

Cable TV.

What is this, 1982?

Oh yeah, fuck Comcast.

On the floor, or something

What the fuck is with this weird “trend” of having people lie against a wall like they’re in bed?

You see it in commercials all the time.

Weird herky-jerky animation bullshit going on in the background… fucking more of the dumb-ass hipster infiltration. There’s got to be a beard somewhere on screen.

The suits are sure to be gloating “Look! It’s modern, and will lure the young, gullible and spendy!”

Fucktards. I see that shit and it inspires lame-ass television blog entries like this.

So there!

It’s New Years 2017, and there’s still Xmas leftovers!

Man, you gotta hand it to the Hallmark Network.

It’s fucking 2017, and there’s still some Christmas Shit floating over the cablewaves.

“Love Always, Santa.” “My Christmas Love.”

Crap like this always involves widowers, jilted lovers, single moms and dads, and the occasional abused pet.

Fuck, what a dream job — writing scripts for this swill.