Click. Flick. Flush. Repeat.
by Andrea Mulder-Slater My television is state of the art. Circa 2001. It weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 pounds and has a built in DVD player and a VCR. That’s V ideo C assette R ecorder for those of you born after Charles in Charge was taken off the air. I miss you Buddy. Needless to say, not a lot of TV is watched in our house. It wasn’t always this way, but a few years ago we terminated what had been a long and arduous relationship with our satellite TV provider. It had become a costly alliance and once we discovered that we were spending as much per month on the goggle-box, as it costs to import a unicorn from France, we made the decision to pull the plug on the liaison. The breakup with our entertainment pusher was messy and involved a lot of late-night, long-distance phone calls, tears and heavy breathing. They were upset too. We’ve since filled the gap with three semi-local channels. Also, a Netflix account. As a result, the 5-year old is so u