We shouldn't use the phrase "cut the cord" to describe getting rid of cable TV, because some people might take it literally. This one? The thick one that goes into the wall? BZZZZZZZZTTTTZZZZ.
OK, whoa, I am in the next room and my toes are smoking and I smell hot hair.
I guess that was the power cord.
The cord you want to cut is symbolic — a tether that ties your TV provider to your bank account. Some of us remember growing up with four channels, three networks for meat and dessert, and the public TV spinach channel that would show British shows where they said "bum" but only after 10 p.m. If you're from that era, you still think TV should be free.
We dream of figuring out a way to get the networks for nothing. It's possible, but it's a pain. The other day my satellite provider announced some new tier, a stripped-down package delivered over the internet, and I called to inquire. Does it have the networks? My wife's favorite shows are on the single-digit channels.
"No," said the helpful customer assistant rep, "but let me tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to reduce your bill by half."
Remarkable: I'd implied the mildest sort of cord-cutter interest, and the scythe whistled down and cleaved my bill. It's like calling up the power company to say "I'm thinking of going back to whale-oil lamps" and they halve your rates.
Anyway. I was scrolling through the channels I never watch, looking for something I would record and never watch, and saw a grayed-out premium channel I'd never noticed before.