Cord cutting. Even the name is off-putting. I appreciate the play on words but frankly, I like Patty and I prefer to maintain constant, ongoing contact with her. With her and with cable. Both are there for me without reservation, providing support based on their understanding of date, time and my preferences. I remember when we got cable. We watched black and white Disney cartoons before school on a channel higher than 13 and it was glorious. Look, I’m all for sticking it to The Man and I know that a lot of these streaming services offer original programming you can’t get anywhere else. I’m just saying, cable and Netflix don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Without cable, I have to make decisions every time I sit down. And worse, I then have to exercise some self control and limit myself to however many episodes. And I have to pause it when I have to pee and then I have to pee in total silence which is unnerving even in your own apartment. I don’t want to pee in silence. I want background noise. Background noise that’s encouraging me to buy an Ove’Glove and promises to save me 15% or more on my car insurance. Background noise that reminds me I could be entitled to a cash settlement if I or a loved one suffered from mesothelioma or faulty trans-vaginal mesh. Don’t cut yourself off from cable. Cable loves you. It wants you to be happy. And it wants you to pay for cable.