When to Up-Spend

Carpenters should always buy the most expensive hammer. That's obvious, yet few of us seem to really internalize that lesson.

For example, it’s crazy that most people spend a third of their lives nuzzling a cheap uncomfortable pillow. Even at my financial low point as a freelance jazz musician, I slept with a $$$ down pillow (with fancy hypoallergenic cover). The same people will jump to buy a BMW the moment they can afford one. I don't understand their priorities.

I use a portable vacuum several times per day. I want to encourage that habit, and for it to work reliably well. So I own a Dyson - which, even at its blow-out sale price, was still a luxury purchase. But I've never regretted it.

Here's the counterintuitive formula: Up-spend on items used most frequently. Not your most enjoyed or valued things, nor the things you most depend upon. I immensely enjoy my bottom-of-the-line iPad, greatly value my second-hand dvd collection, and depend on my house's merely-decent water heater. None were spendy. But the scrub brush I use on my back in the shower every day is the best one. I use it daily, and it never does anything to erode my joie de vivre. Over time, that adds up.

Anything that delivers daily irritation or disappointment gets improved if possible. My doors shut well and my light switches make a nice noise. This may seem petty, but improvement of improvable fine points is far more sane than rumination over the unavoidable. People mess up both sides of the Serenity Prayer.

LED Bulbs

I really liked Cree soft white LED bulbs. They're no longer made, so I spent like five hours diving into LED bulb quality, issues with the current crop, etc., and, to make a very long story short, determined that this is like the first generation of VCRs, answering machines, etc: the original models (i.e. Cree) were over-engineered and great, while succeeding generations were flimsy and problematic. You can maybe get by with EcoSmart, Phillips, GE, et al, but they're not as good, and I'd imagine quality will keep degrading.

Cree 40W and 60W equivalent bulbs are still available new on eBay for a decent price (though considerably more expensive than when Home Depot sold millions of them for just a few bucks each, alas), and I'd strongly urge stocking up. Buy "new" and in original packaging to be sure someone's not just cleaning up their old bulbs and selling them; also, as always, consider user feedback rating.

I like soft white (2700K), which is more like incandescent (i.e. yellowy), but if you want more of a whiter-than-white vibe, go for daylight (5000K).

Trader Joe's Frozen Turkey & Stuffing en Croute

"It's not that circus horses dance particularly well, it's that they can dance at all".
   ~ Famous old quip that's strangely impervious to Googling

A friend bought $30,000 speakers for his stereo.

"Why?" I asked.

"It sounds exactly like being in a jazz club," he replied.

"Is that so great? In actual jazz clubs, do you go so nuts for the acoustics that it strikes you like a $30,000 experience?"

"No, but this is in my house!"

"So you save the trip?"

"Exactly!"

"You know, you could rent a helicopter for $1000 per hour. Land with friends on a helipad near a jazz club, and hire a limo for the final few blocks. That's still more than an order of magnitude cheaper!"

The conversation went nowhere, of course. Especially when I made gratuitous reference to starving children...a dick move given my $100 sneakers, $400 eyewear, $1000 phone, and $15000 car parked outside. Yeah, look at me, so totally there for the starving children.

"But how," you ask, "does this pertain to frozen convenience foods at Trader Joe's?"

Because the interesting part is not the lavish spending, it's the way we reframe quality in different contexts. Jazz club acoustics, which you'd never value much in an actual jazz club, are fit for a king when they're recreated in your living room. And Trader Joe's frozen Turkey & Stuffing en Croute, which tastes like a decent meal whipped up by a real live cook (albeit not a very good one), seems like a miracle when you've simply popped a humble frozen box in your oven.

Few of us would normally feel the least bit stirred over a decent meal from a not-very-good cook, but this is an amazing result from a frozen convenience product. Hence the excitement among TJ loyalists. Shoot, even I'm excited, and I'm the cynical bastard dispelling illusion here! I can get hooked, too! For that matter, I'd probably giggle delightedly at the sound from my friend's speakers...if there were a snowball’s chance in Hell of my scoring an invitation after I put him through the Marie Antoinette treatment. 

I said I'm less interested in the pricing aspect, but I'll note that Turkey & Stuffing en Croute costs a steep $15.99, which is the Trader Joe's frozen food equivalent of $30,000.

One more.

I'm addicted to Youtube videos made by ecstatic travelers who've thrown away hundreds of thousands of frequent points (or $10,000-$20,000 in cold cash) to fly in enclosed first class compartments on swanky Middle Eastern airlines. The luxeness is just beyond belief!

We're supposed to view with admiring awe and/or seething envy. But I peer at my screen like an anthopologist at what's evidently a shitty office cubicle tarted up with leather appointments. The whole thing is laughably chintzy and uncomfortable, though an undeniable improvement over the inhumane steerage of coach. If this were a hotel room, one wouldn't pay more than thirty five bucks. And hotel rooms are yours for the day, while this crappy cubicle - rigged up in an arid, fetid metal tube - is rented for a mere six or eight or ten hour stretch.

But it's ON AN AIRPLANE. So people pay >$10,000 for the exquisite privilege of something they wouldn't ordinarily value presented in a context where they wouldn't ordinarily expect it.


Business idea: attach EZ Boy lounge chairs onto each end of a seesaw, glue jars of high-end macademia nuts to the arms, and charge $100/minute to experience the world's most exclusive level of seesaw comfort.

Of course, richy riches don't reserve those first class compartments for swanky status. It's an expedience; a marginally less disgusting flying experience that's easily afforded if you've got zillions. Then, when you transfer to the VIP suite at the Ritz Carlton, you still don't celebrate with lofty exuberance. It's just lodgings. Like Holiday Inns for us, it's a loose stand-in for the comforts of home. The only exuberant celebrants are slobs like you or Me or YouTube hosts, on the rare occasions when we stumble onto such strata. It's not really for us. We don't get it.

Not Paying the Asshole Tax

I just made two luxury purchases for pennies on the dollar:

An iPhone X, used, for $535 (256G of memory). It sold for $1,149 when it was released just two years ago. And this was the last model of iPhone to contain a Qualcomm modem; all subsequent models have very poor data performance with marginal connections. Also, the iPhone X's gorgeous OLED screen still hasn't been surpassed, even by the newly-announced iPhone 11 Pro.

This eye-catching KAI Sandwich Knife, specially-made for Williams Sonoma. Normally $25, but I grabbed the last one for just $9.99.

It dawns on me that it would be 180 degrees skewed to think of this as bargain shopping. On the contrary, buying new/shiny is elitism. And to be elite, one must pay an asshole tax.

We never need to pay the asshole tax, yet most of us usually do, for three reasons:

1. Path Of Least Resistance
It's easier to buy the shiny thing marketed in the shiny way that people are currently talking about...and it's hard to overstate our propensity to choose the expeditious route. It's always easiest to stay with the flock. (To me, mindless flocking is for assholes).

2. I Want It Now
...and I won't be denied.(Asshole!)

3. Status
There are two ways status impacts. The most familiar way is comparatively rare: "Look at me with my cool iPhone 11 Pro!" But there's a more quietly insidious status choice: I'm not the "type of person" who buys closeouts or other people's crappy cast-offs. It feels somehow "unclean", literally and/or figuratively. I've written before about how elitism often expresses this way, driving food and health movements like organics, boutique allergies, and locavorism. You can't be elite without elevation, and you can't elevate without distinguishing your perch from the filth. (ASSHOLE!)

If you're not in it for status, or to indulge momentary impulses, and you're applying your brain, you can spend a lot less. But you're not saving money, you're simply declining to pay the Asshole Tax.

It's not easy to reframe one's consumerism. After hundreds of billions of dollars worth of marketing hypnosis, and a lifetime of contagious conformity, one must firmly shake off murkily unchallenged assumptions and aspirations.


See also "Transformed Attitude Toward Travel" explaining how I travel very frequently and very non-sensationally for a mere pittance.

Vintage Kitchenware

My supposedly stainless steel slotted spoon rusts if it sits in the sink overnight.

My colander is so flimsy that it dents if you drop a spoon in it.

The shiny surface of my flatware is wearing off, revealing toxic copper.

My folding steamer basket jams.

My measuring cup chips if placed within an inch of any dishwasher item.

I feel like I'm 22 again, living an ad-hoc life on the cheap with everything jury-rigged and temporary. But now there are no alternatives.

You might decry it all as "Chinese-made crap", but that meme's wrong. China also manufactures our iObjects - to a level of refinement and build quality no American factory could match. Same for your fancy TV. The problem isn't crappy Chinese manufacturing, it's cheap American consumers demanding ultra-cheap essentially disposable crap. That market is so dominant that higher-quality operations can't compete. Few of us will pay an extra dime for quality.

If only I'd intercepted my mom before she'd thrown out all her housewares prior to moving to an assisted place. Her measuring cup, her slotted spoon, her steamer baskets and silverware and colander had performed for decades. I remember them like a dream of my more grown-up era before backtracking to my flimsy life as a 22-year-old. A more substantial, less aggravating existence - my gentile upbringing on a Viennese estate where the kitchen staff (Jakob and Sophie and dear old Magdalena) labored with weighty, substantial spatulas. Having fallen on hard times, I obsess endlessly in my quest for a proper potato masher.

Next best thing: I intercept other moms. I head to eBay and insert the search term "vintage" along with the item. Zillions of households are selling this stuff. There's a premium, but I'm happy to pay 1.5 - 2x the going rate. Like the 1945 Buicks still going strong in Havana, the good stuff will last forever. It never dawned on me that my Mom's Ekco slotted spoon was a potential heirloom.


I don't mind the additional expense because it doesn't add up to much overall. Thankfully, I'm not a "lovely coffee table person" (LCTP), my shorthand for people who need to establish for themselves and others that they're cultivated "nice" people who "have nice things". This preoccupation gets very expensive, and becomes a mindspace-dominating neurosis. I lack the LCTP gene, so none of this is a question of status. I just want stuff to work.


Clarification: I'm not saying you must not have a nice coffee table. I'm not calling you decadent bourgeoise for owning anything decorative or lovely. It's the compulsion that you have to. LCTP are people for whom everything must be perfectly lovely and decorative. They feel they're living on stage, and anything cheap-seeming or not perfectly matched makes them tremble with unease, like they're revealing fractures in their desperately glossed image.

I frequently note in this Slog that we're not living in a movie; that it's a horrible mistake to neurotically pull back the camera to view one's own life as if it were some cinematic narrative (that's what Narcissus was about, IMO, though the Greeks, lacking film cameras, were forced to use a less precise metaphor). This impulse is the source of all unhappiness, and the extreme version is seen in the LCTP person. If you happen to own a nice chair - or even a nice coffee table, whatever - god bless and enjoy. Me? I own a jacket.

E-Manual Ask

I compulsively stockpile future treasure for myself, but those checks are seldom cashed. I have great books I'll never read, great CDs I'll never listen to, and a fridge door-full of decrepit condiments bought in a prior millennium.

One move that unexpectedly paid off big was a mere afterthought. I keep a folder on my computer to store PDF manuals for all my appliances and gadgets. There was no need to scan hardcopy; you can find manuals for most anything on the Internet. That's really kind of what the Internet was made for, if you look past all the porn, snark, and promotion.

Whenever anything goes wrong with my stereo speakers, my clothes dryer, my printer, my drill, my thermostat, my lawn mower, my car stereo, my car, or any of the rest, it's all right there. For that matter, if I need to know a model number, again, it's all right there. I store it all in my DropBox, so I can access it from my smart phone (I could also throw it all into Evernote).

It sounds small, but I find myself eagerly opening this folder several times per week. Year after year, this has proved one of the most useful moves I've made with my computer.

Off-Radar/On-Radar

Here's how it always works: I find something great, fall in love, and quickly discover that no one else is paying the least attention to the obscure thing that's been captivating me. I'm forced to drive to the ends of the earth for my fixes, and everyone thinks I'm nuts for my devotion to something no one else cares about (as I wrote last month, "we're only supposed to go apeshit for the things we've previously been told to go apeshit about. Independent, uncorroborated apeshit-going is the mark of a crazy person").

Then, after a few years, the mainstream latches on, and for a brief moment, I enjoy easy availability and a profusion of kindred spirits. But soon after - right around the time the money and attention have begun to subvert things - it becomes yesterday's thing, and I'm left feeling ridiculous once again - this time for being one of those unfortunate people who cling cluelessly to stale trends.

Check out Triumph the Insult Comedy Dog ranking on the annoying legions of craft beer freaks, just as I was beginning to celebrate the mainstreaming of beer appreciation (ironically, I was a Robert Smigel fan long before he became popular):



I had a fantastic idea for a reality TV food show in 1994, before there was reality TV. By the time I was in a position to pitch it, I was perceived as just another sad wannabe trying to scratch his way onto the receding tail of a big trend.

Hey, it even happened with chowhounding!

Amazon's Perplexing List of Top-Rated DVDs

My mind was a little blown by Amazon's list of top-rated DVDs.

#1 doesn't surprise me. "Food Production Systems for a Backyard or Small Farm" sounds like exactly the sort of thing 224 people would go absolutely apeshit crazy for. Fair enough! But #2 and #3 are two not particularly popular, not particularly well-reviewed TV shows: "GCB: The Complete First Season" and "Person of Interest: Season One". Why them??

From my experience running Chowhound, I'd be inclined to suspect ballot box stuffing, but that can't account for the complete lack of negative votes (of GCB's 553 reviews, only a minuscule 7 are not five-star).

Next is Mean Girls, rated five-star by over 96% of 4800 reviewers. The movie was popular ($130M gross), but not Star Wars popular ($775M gross). And it was reasonably good (83% rating on Rotten Tomatoes), but it ain't Citizen Kane good.

So what's the underlying dynamic? I'm guessing a complex set of factors. All are clearly/narrowly targeted enough that they wouldn't likely be bought by people who weren't previously bought-in to "that type of thing". They're niche, but not so niche as to turn off niche haters. And all are a notch or two below massive popularity, making it less likely that purely random customers would wander into purchasing and dilute the unanimity.

Also, while none of these are great works, they're all smoothly competent and have no gaping flaws or potentially annoying or abrasive elements. Contrast with Napoleon Dynamite, which also has clear/narrow appeal, moderate popularity, niche crossover appeal, and whose 1289 ratings are dominated by 626 five-stars, but which also draws 299 one-star ratings...surely in reaction to the love him/hate him protagonist.

Can anyone think of other factors in play?

Health Code Regulations Trap Good Guys as Well as Bad

I recently raved on Chowhound about an exemplary yogurt brand from a small Connecticut farm. Someone replied by noting that the farm's operator had been charged with multiple health code infractions. I'll reprint my response here, because it applies well beyond this one example (even, really, beyond food):

I noted that CT inspectors are "tough". And that can also breaks the other way, into inane niggling and inflexibility. For example, you will never find unrefrigerated mozzarella cheese in CT, even from those who make it fresh daily and store it, properly, in cool water. Perfectly healthful, but the code says you refrigerate dairy products, period.

It's important for the general public to remember that operators with poor health violation records are not necessarily cynical pigs doing disgusting things in blithe disregard for the suckers who buy their food. There ARE such operators, and health laws are intended to thwart them (and do a great job), but they also catch some conscientious operators in their nets - operators who are trying to use perfectly good, perfectly safe methods that happen not to adhere to the letter of the law.

Ironically/tragically, such operators tend to be more conscientious operators than average, because they stubbornly insist on following non-standard protocol, and there's a fine line between "non-standard protocol" and "artisinal methods".

The standard protocols, after all, are created according to the chain model, because that's the dominant modern industry standard. Nobody at the DOH is working to build in flexibility to accommodate small batch traditional methods....much less eccentric trail-blazing methods. And violations are charged to the letter, not the spirit of the law. That's the only way it can be; we can't expect inspectors to be wise greybeards invested with broad powers to bend rules according to their superior judgement. That's not how enforcement works - nor should it work that way.

All this said, this may be a sleazy, cynical operator! But the sublime flavor of his product makes it impossible for me to imagine that. And, being a devoted chowhound, I go with what my palate tells me.

A Sane Word About Toyota

Why doesn't anyone explain the Toyota mess from a perspective of sanity?

If you sell millions of cars, statistics dictate that you'll get "million typing monkeys" type results. Every report you could possibly imagine will roll in. You will get one-off reports of sedans suddenly transforming into fairy chariots, of steering wheels growing inexplicably smaller on rainy days, of exhaust systems that play "Ode to Joy" and shut-down cars going on satanic rampages and trying to mow down the mailman.

You cannot, in other words, have "zero tolerance" for reported safety issues, because too many crazy, stupid, deluded, loud-mouthed, random people are flooding you with too much ridiculous data every minute of every day.

A level above that are errant reports from relatively sane people conscientiously describing seemingly real problems...but who are observing wrong. They're making mistakes and misattributing them to defects. Think about it: you're sane and conscientious, right? And I'll bet you, from time to time, get stuff wrong. One time out of a thousand, you get something totally egregiously wrong. Well, millions of car owners - even leaving aside the crazies - getting stuff egregiously wrong .001% of the time means a huge swarm of noise for those trying to detect bona fide safety issues.

Single reports can't possibly be chased down and investigated. Clear patterns must be detected. And that means a lot more than zero tolerance. Extremely sporadic problems - like those afflicting Toyota - look a lot like noise.

In hindsight, after a serious pattern has emerged amid the noise, it's easy to recriminate. We hope car makers take every single report extremely seriously. They can't. And while that sounds callous to us, and we get indignant reading transcripts of execs blithely shrugging off sporadic problems and trying to manage their way around recalls, that's the only way it can possibly work.

The odds demand that some apparently crazy claims must eventually prove true. And therefore cars may explode, and people may be injured, or even die, before a problem's taken seriously. Exploding cars and dead drivers are, we all agree, bad things, but cars explode and drivers die for reasons that are no fault of carmakers, too. Driving has never been a risk-free proposition, and cars are not designed or built with the meticulousness of airplanes (if they were, we'd never afford them). It's all compromise.

The truly amazing thing is that cars work as well as they do, and that so very few people die as a consequence of mechanical error. It'd be great if we could do something about the tens of thousands of annual deaths from driver error.

Buy a Toyota?

As a proud contrarian, if I were in the market for a new car, and didn't need to use the car immediately, I'd be all over a super cut-rate Toyota right now.

Yes, it's possible (though by no means certain) that Toyota has perpetrated an evil coverup, but it's way too spotlit right now for the matter to reach any resolution other than a full, free, assured fix (assuming the current recall doesn't turn out to implement a complete solution). And, in the meantime, there are measures one can take to mitigate the danger in the exceedingly rare event the problem cuts in (e.g. simply disengage the cruise control!). Toyota won't risk wrongful death lawsuits with the whole world staring at them, and neither are eight million cars going straight to junkyards. It will be resolved.

And while the acceleration problem sounds fearsome, it doesn't make these vehicles out and out turkeys. They're still great cars, with a possible problem in one aspect of one system. It should have been fixed sooner. But they're on it. So, sooner rather than later, that problem will have an assured fix (if the current fix proves insufficient). So why not scoop up a bargain?

I'd even consider buying stock. Without understating the seriousness of the branding hit Toyota's suffered, or the swelling fortunes of its competitors, the market may well have overreacted (TM is down more than 20%), as it often does in the thick of big fear-inducing stories.

On the other hand, here's a different viewpoint from Forbes Magazine: "Toyota's Troubles Are Just Beginning". I suspect that much of the negativity in that article is already priced in to Toyota's stock, though. And the key to investing - elementary, though a surprising number of people don't realize it - is that it's not about assessing how a company will fare, but in assessing how wrong everyone else is about how the company will fare!

Super Cool Weekend Bag

This, the Korchmar Adventure Collection Expandable Duffel, is the hippest, most perfectly shaped and configured weekend bag ever. It's not really a duffel; what a silly name for such a cool bag! The photo makes it look really wide, but it's just 22" (expandable). Good selection and placement of internal pockets. Awesome.

It's on sale here for $221 with free shipping. Expensive, yes, but it will last forever...making it a better value than a succession of ugly, poor-quality $75 bags. Also, I like that it looks classy without being show-off-ish. You can take it literally anywhere.

Account Cancellation: Score!

A while back, I wrote about the hell corporations put you through when you try to close accounts with them:

One doesn't simply cancel a wireless account. You must call a special phone number and speak to specialist personnel chosen for their psychopathic inability to register expressions of rejection. You will be asked to explain and defend your foolish decision. You will be offered things. You will be cajoled and niggled. After many minutes of spiel, deal, and distraction, your request will eventually be granted, but only after you've uttered the word "no" more times than JD Salinger's publicist.

I've tried telling them I was headed to prison for arson. I've tried telling them I had Lou Gehrigs disease. Nothing could prevent me from being run through the full epic script, cajoled with carrots and whacked with sharp sticks.

But today I may have found the answer; a gambit that had my credit card account shut down, neat and tidy, within thirty seconds. Granted, it's easier to close credit cards than mobile accounts, but I think I may have a winner here:

"I'm moving to Zimbabwe and joining the Peace Corp".

As a bonus, the rep admired my life decision so much that she voluntarily reversed the $60 annual fee which I'd been late in addressing and which I might otherwise have been stuck with. She felt good, I felt good....win-win!

Don't Opt Out...Just "Correct"

I'm not sure if this tip is completely obvious (i.e. coming from my moron side) or ingenious (i.e. coming from my resourceful side). But here goes.

I made the mistake of ordering something from luggage.com (fwiw, this Eagle Creek suitcase). I've since gotten several pieces of junk email from them. I went to their site to dutifully opt out, and they offered a sensible page for doing so (it would have been nice if I'd been offered this option at check-out, though).

But I found no way to opt out my snail mail address or phone number. And their privacy policy stated:

"We collect your contact information, including, but not limited to, addresses, email addresses, phone numbers, and financial information. Collected information is used for the benefit of Luggage.com to send information to customers about orders, about our company, to send promotional material from some of our partners and in some cases may be shared with our partners."

So I "updated" my address, my email address, and my phone number (to the personal information for Herman Munster - yep, 1313 Mockingbird Lane). And I think I'll do likewise in lieu of opting out in other sites, as soon as my order's gone through, since my guess is that updates are paid much swifter attention than opt outs.

Or, better yet, I'll be even more hesitant about being lured away from my cozy relationship with Amazon...and my much-loved Amazon Prime account.

UPDATE: it's more work, but more green to change your info and then also opt out. If your opt out request is ignored, great, you won't see the resultant junk mail. But if your request is respected, that will mean a lot less paper and transportation waste!

Chocolate Debunking

This is apparently (much-loved) ancient web history, but since I missed it, you might have, too. Hence, I point you to the priceless and brilliant debunking of pricey/snobby Noka Chocolate. Definitely read all ten parts.

Black Friday Deals

I'm a big fan of Canon's "Pixma" line of multipurpose printers (they print, copy, and scan), and there's a great Black Friday price of just $89 on the very highly-rated Canon Pixma MP610.

Amazon's price of $199.99 on the first generation iPod Touch 16 GB is way low.

...and now I'm now out the door to shop for massively discounted cashmere blazers and other Black Friday deals at Jos. A. Bank

Hell Circle Du Jour: Cancelling Wireless Accounts

I've had occasion to cancel accounts with just about every major wireless provider. And the task has always brought a bag of hurt (a phrase which, by the way, just went over one million Google hits).

One doesn't simply cancel a wireless account. You must call a special phone number and speak to specialist personnel chosen for their psychopathic inability to register expressions of rejection. You will be asked to explain and defend your foolish decision. You will be offered things. You will be cajoled and niggled. After many minutes of spiel, deal, and distraction, your request will eventually be granted, but only after you've uttered the word "no" more times than JD Salinger's publicist.

Three cancellations ago, I tried to strategize the process. I told the representative "Look, I understand that it's your job to try a variety of angles to persuade me not to cancel. I know this, I understand this. You're just doing your job. But I want to assure you that by the time we hang up, my account will definitely be dead and gone. So...can we, like, move through the script as quickly as possible so neither of us needs to waste time?"

Fat chance. The rep settled in to his amiable patter ('So how are you doing today, sir?"), and I realized stronger measures than this are required to stave off The Full Treatment. He probed, questioned, bantered, and pushed with all his might. In the end, of course, my account was cancelled, but not before the company had extracted its pound of psychic flesh.

The next time I had to cancel a wireless account, and was asked my reason, I informed the rep that I was headed to prison. The unstoppable rep actually asked me what I was going in for. "Arson" I shot back, matter-of-factly. In the ensuing silence, I began to gleefully suspect I'd nailed it and found a shortcut through the torture. I fully expected to hear the magic words "Sir, I've cancelled your account; if you ever desire to reestablish service with our company, please don't hesitate to contact us". But I was wrong. After the awkward silence, the rep cleared his throat and offered me one thousand free minutes if I'd obligate myself for another year. And so on.

During my most recent cancellation, I told them I was dying of Lou Gehrig's Disease, and was too weak to hold a handset. That, in fact, I was draining my last remaining strength to make this phone call as part of my effort to put my affairs in order. They rushed things a tad for me, but only a tad. Scant mercy for a dying man. (When the deed was finally done, I informed the rep - who after all, I didn't mean to leave traumatized - that "today I feel like the luckiest man in the world.")

I'm currently with T-Mobile, and my locked-in contract period just ended. And it just occurred to me (I may be slow, but I'm not dumb) that I'd be a fool not to call, ask to cancel, and hear what they have to offer. Maybe I'll tell them I have my eye on a nice shiny iPhone over at AT&T. Let's see what juicy bribes and counter-offers I'm showered with.

I'll let you know how it goes. Though, with my luck, this time they'll immediately cancel me without protest, and I'll be completely screwed.

Exciting Times for Smartphones and Cameras

There's never been a better time not to buy a smartphone. 

With its iPhone, Apple has again innovated an entirely new standard of quality and design...and, for the first time, drawn credible competition. The new Razr and the new Blackberry may not be perfect, but they offer a fancy touchscreen, slick interface, look real good, and have started to push forward with features notoriously missing from the iPhone (e.g. video, cut and paste, zoom, flash, removable battery). There's every indication that Apple will compete aggressively to defend their position...something they've never particularly had to do. And that can only mean a much better product at a much better price. To buy a smartphone now would be crazy; we'll be seeing amazing things in the next year (if we're not all too poor and unemployed to buy such things).

Same for cameras; Micro Four Thirds technology, recently introduced with Panasonic’s DMC-G1 camera (see David Pogue's review), allows S.L.R. quality and flexibility without the bulk and full expense of a reflex lens. The Panasonic is still pretty large, pretty expensive, and lacks some important features, but other manufacturers are busily working on the technology and in the next year we'll see some amazing products.

So...take good care of your smartphone and your camera. This is no time to replace them!

Far Better Than Netflix

Netflix isn't for me. I don't like time pressure on my leisure activities, I don't like having slim viewing choices at any given moment, and as someone who survived many years on very low income by learning to minimize overhead (and still must do so today, until I can finish and sell the books I've been working on), I'm very hesitant about adding yet another $$/month obligation to my monthly nut.

So here's what I do instead of Netflix. It's cheaper and better:

I buy my DVDs used, and, after watching them, I sell them secondhand for close to the same price. I get to hold onto titles for as long as I like, I have an even wider pool to choose from than Netflix offers, I don't get charged for those months when I'm busy or out of town, I get to enjoy the full packaging, and my net expense is never as high as $20/month. If I'm feeling over-extended, I can sell more aggressively, and if I want to languish with a bunch of unviewed titles, I can do that.

I buy mostly on Half.com, and from some Amazon Marketplace vendors (I tolerate lower vendor ratings on Amazon than on Half/eBay, because clueless consumers there rate vendors much more capriciously...always read the actual feedback on Amazon), sometimes from eBay, and buy new on Amazon when the price is right (they have tons of great DVDs for under $15; Amazon's new price sometimes dips below the prevalent used price, especially if you're an Amazon Prime customer, as I am, who gets free shipping). I also buy some directly from indie filmmakers, who rarely charge more than $20. I never buy popular titles until the first wave of purchasers starts flooding the secondhand market, bringing the price down. And when I sell, I always price 50 cents less than the competition to ensure that my DVD moves quickly. I keep DVD mailers handy so packing's not a hassle.

If I really like a film, I can keep it. And if the stock market ravages my savings, as it did this week, my DVDs are essentially liquid assets, easily sold off.

Did You Know Amazon Has a House Brand?

I'm an Amazonoholic, but I didn't know about their high quality house brand until I read a tip from an Amazon.com employee:

"Pinzon is an Amazon brand and everything I see at work that is Pinzon is really amazing - everything housewares, ovenware, etc. really well made brand."

Seems true enough...all the Pinzon products seem to rate 4 1/2 to 5 stars. 

The Pinzon throw blankets are particularly highly rated, though pricey....but they seem to frequently appear at drastic discount as part of Amazon's "Gold Box" program.