I like Netflix. They’ve got a nice service that I enjoy and they did right by their customers after Katrina, automatically suspending all subscriptions within the disaster zone.
But by God, I am not promoting this event on Thursday. Dennis Quaid rocks Spanish Plaza, followed by a screening of The Big Easy? I have no clue as to Mr. Quaid’s musical prowess, but in my experience most locals turn up their nose at that flick.
(Full confession: I watched The Big Easy before moving down here as part of my feeble research effort. I thought it was OK. It did yield one line which Xy and I often quote to one another: “This is the Big Easy baby. We got a different way of doing things down here.” Actually it might be a hoot to see it again after all these years.)
I mention this only because a Netflix PR flack just contacted me (and Adrastos and Oyster and Maitri and Alan G.) and asked me to flog this on my blog.
No, I say. Enough! I am not a marketing tool. I will not succumb. Except that maybe I just did, but it was ironical, you know.