Word: backyard
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Only a few years ago, satellite-dish antennas were curiosities of the communications age, sprouting up near laboratories and in an occasional rural backyard where TV reception was poor. Nosy neighbors used to wonder if the person owning one might even be a spy. No longer. Suddenly the dishes, or earth stations, as they are called, are a booming industry...
Last week the dish industry's organization, SPACE (Society for Private Commercial Earth Stations), held its national convention at Nashville's Opryland Hotel, attracting about 14,000 participants and 700 exhibits. General Satellite of Slinger, Wis., displayed a "complete backyard system" for $370. "It includes everything except the television," said Company Representative Jack Krisel...
...main talk of the show, though, was about static heading across the airwaves for satellite-dish owners. Cable-system operators, like Tele- Communications Inc., are upset that the backyard stations are receiving for free what subscribers pay monthly fees to view. Pay-cable channels, including Time Inc.'s Home Box Office and Viacom's Showtime, are also miffed. Whereas cable subscribers pay extra monthly fees for these movie and special-events channels, dish owners can bypass cable and receive them free of charge...
...windows open because of that stalker," recalled Charles Prather of Chrisanta Drive. "I said, 'How many houses are there between here and San Francisco?' " Early the following morning, the Night Stalker slipped into a ranch-style house just down the street from the Prathers'. Apparently entering through a backyard window, he shot Computer Engineer Bill Carns in the head, raped his girlfriend and ransacked the house. Carns, 29, was in critical condition at week...
Almost. The record begins with And She Was, about a woman who levitates above her backyard and propels herself off into the universe, a voyage that is presented with no more wonderment than a trip down to the 7-Eleven. Road to Nowhere, which ends the second side, has the title of a Sunday sermon and the rhythm of an Acadian barn dance but turns out to be an unabashed paean to nihilism: "Well we know where we're goin'/ But we don't know where we've been/ And we know what we're knowin...