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This week I finally broke down and, in a fit of boredom, upgraded my Mac to OS X, the “Jaguar” edition. I’d held back up till now in my concern that my three-year-old Powerbook would get seriously bogged down but, not at all. The thing zips!

Not content with that quantum leap, I also went Wi-Fi wireless at home and abroad. It does feel quite liberating. Plus, now I can go show off at the local Starbucks and surf the net via one of those newfangled T-Mobile Hotspots. Not like I don’t already spend enough time in front of a net-connected computer already or anything.

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Here’s further proof of the ghettoization of the lower channels: one of the scant remnant of vaguely-decent, high-production-values television is getting the unceremonious send-off, jerked around in favor of bottom-feeding “reality” shows. Since I picked up cable again I notice that I haven’t felt the slightest need to venture out to channels lower than 61 (Comedy Central). Sorry, Dave. Even so-called “basic” cable has become unwatchable, its once-meager offerings now criminally strip-mined to provide content for the same-channel, different-number strategy designed to have you pay that additional fee for the next tier of channels in your monthly bill. (ie, 51-Discovery gives up its firstfruits to 100-Discovery Science, 101-Discovery Health, 102-Discovery Kids, 103-Discovery Wings and that other 135-Discovery channel, leaving little more than infomercials for the original.) And don’t even get me started about the news coverage. Network TV I can feel quietly indignant about since, hey, it’s free, right? But cable I’m paying for, dammit. So quit fugging with it.

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Did you know a live-action movie had been made on the story of The Little Prince? I didn’t. Not that the movie is that memorable or anything, but for this one song-and-dance scene when the Snake character introduces himself to the Little Prince — this guy was throwing down dance moves á la Michael Jackson — and this about a decade before “Thriller” — that would make MJ blush. This guy was moonwalking on sand years before Jacko was wacko! This guy, it turns out, was legendary choreographer Bob Fosse himself. Well, duh me.

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I have discovered bliss, and it is called having an MP3-playing stereo installed in your car. That single little act has expanded my mobile musical possibilities enormously. Birthdays are so cool.

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