For all of my resistance toward the account management of Idagio, I do LOVE its platform. Thus, I write to Beatrice Rana's Chopin: 12 Études, Op. 25 & 4 Scherzi.

With a free account, it's set to shuffle play for the album, a queue approach that usually sets me at edge, but in this context, it's largely immaterial as I'm so green I've got a pot of gold next to me.

I could be persuaded to signup if Idagio didn't abandon its use of PayPal, an option it references in some help docs that seems to no longer be relevant. While its use does offer a layer of protection, nevertheless, I don't trust floating my CC in cyberspace; I like retaining control as to whether I want a merchant to take my money.

Think about it: how fantastically bizarre would it be if, while you are sitting on the couch watching DS9, a corseted wench enters the room, pulls cash out of your wallet, shoves ye olde turkey leg into your hand and leaves without saying a word? Wild, right? Back on Christmas Eve 2000, my CC was charged for a hotel room near the Grand Canyon despite my not having been in Arizona since May of that year. Unlike my at-home renaissance faire, as Silent Night played in 2000, I asked, "where's the beef?" I had enough of turkeys: "trust, but verify" is prudent here.

Tangentially connected to Idagio as a service, I've been considering how much value can I attain from something without going all-in with a cash commitment. With Idagio, how much more economic utility would I attain by bartering 40 lbs of liver a year for a service that also provides a crippled-while-free version? Yes, I speak in terms of MEAT because we've lost our way with the monthly subscription model in understanding the value of a dollar—it's only a matter of time before we'll hear, "At just 33 cents a day...." Like my cost-of-living reference about my $50/year membership with the Brooklyn Public Library in a prior post, there's a whole LOTTA difference between a New York fifty bucks and the same wadful of cash down here in Tennessee—it's why I once cringed when I used to shop at bookstores that ran with the printed price on the book flap, knowing the east and west coasts were getting better prices thereby receiving greater educational opportunity. Thus, I speak in liver: real-world capability trumps abstract dollars.

How much more economic utility would I derive from a quality, printed textbook for $34 over its ebook twin that's FREE? Of course, a printed book for self-instruction is superior, but does my paying $34 make sense for that added benefit when the content itself remains unchanged? Am I just paying for the tactile experience? How great of a role does enhanced accessibility play? Furthermore, if I go with the hardcover route, I might be entering into the entire network thereof, acclimating my studies with paid resources that are no different than their free alternatives.

Specifically, I'm considering the OpenStax platform with its Calculus, Vol 1. I seek a solution to detangle the awkwardness of juggling the 14-21 day library checkout for e-content—not that there's a big run on academic works, but still, it's a weird model to apply—appropriate for pop works, but for edu content? Just flag educational with a 6-month checkout and attain the appropriate licensing instead of this broad strokes approach. And the thing is, it's not like it's a limited resource, right?