I've made it through the UFC DVD catalog I purchased from the closed video rental store in town. It was 22 titles, half or so featured two discs and the other half were 3 discs as they spanned two UFC events. And while I still have my expiring UFC Fight Pass subscription, the lack of Internet access at my house seriously impacts it—well, I must be judicious with my 15 GB tethering usage. I have been known to drive into town to download a Spotify playlist. I have since relegated my music activity to a faster version of something akin to my 90s AOL newsgroup in a pre-Napster world (or pre-Audiogalaxy if you prefer) for that was an overnight queue with 28.8K, 33.6K, or 56K access that yielded about 3 songs a night.

And while I prefer my FLAC rips of my CDs, my music is as portable and as diverse as an anvil —but, good luck finding a legal, streaming source of Bear McCreary's soundtracks to all 4.5 seasons of Battlestar Galactica! While happy at the time in 2002 of driving up to my favorite coffeehouse to give away my 800+ CD collection to the first friend I saw, in 2018, I wish I had kept that collection—but, who am I kidding: I've moved so much and had to get rid of so many things since then...there's no way I would have moved around boxes of CDs from state to state —not to mention my minimalist lifestyle for a couple of spans along the way. So, Spotify FTW.

Reeling it back on topic, I do have unlimited use with Verizon for the number associated with my Jetpack. Conceivably when I do buy another phone to replace my broken one, I could buy a repeater so that I could use a phone around the house like everyone else, as with an antenna, my Jetpack has a remarkably solid connection. But, I'm unsure if I want to invest over a couple hundred bucks in that sort of thing.

For honestly, at the end of the day, I'm just The Only Living Boy in New York:

I get the news I need on the weather report.
I can gather all the news I need on the weather report.
Hey, I've got nothing to do today, but, smile.
Do-n-doh-d-doh-n-doh and here I am:
The only living boy in New York.
Half of the time we're gone,
But, we don't know where.

—Simon & Garfunkel

I really don't need to go online. Oh, it's helpful for banking and paying the bills. And I love access to music—it saves a bundle and years ago I lowered my Jolly Roger from the mast— sure, I miss Photoshop—I even tried its monthly subscription, but, Gimp is fine. Without the Internet, I suppose I'd go back to slowly building my vinyl collection...even slower without the Internet and requires a drive into Memphis to Shangri-La.

Oh, I suppose there are all sorts of avenues of interest that I'd miss driving down without my link to the Net. But, I guess I see it as a romantic notion to be disconnected from the groupthink of the world...maybe I'd hunt. I'd see a lot of value with a closet full of jerky. But, all of that is nonsense—I've been eating vegan—with a blatant disregard for it with my supplements—a lot of my weightloss success this year is from a low-carb vegan diet.

Still, I'd find value in not being caught up with what everyone else runs around in a whirlwind about with fists clenched and brows set. And truthfully, I'm largely oblivious to it all. I find value in being unconcerned with things beyond my control. I don't get amped up about politics and my sports interest has markedly faded. I reference those two, because the whole bit about religion and politics conversations.

Sports comes off like a religion here in the South; it has its parishioners and its cathedrals. It amuses me: for all the emotions and time we put into a sport, there are many places, if not most, where there is no knowledge of our fixation. I'm reminded specifically of when I taught my Czech students years ago; I played Andy Griffith's classic, What It Was, Was Football—they didn't know what in the world he was going on and on about!

That's something to ponder for further application.