We’re moving.  So, today I had to call DirectTV to get my feckin’ satellite moved from one part of the state to another part of the state less then an hour away.  Apparently, this is so difficult that Wifesy and I would be better off launching ourselves up into the stratosphere, shaking some sense into the satellite itself, and then feckin’ in the sky on the way back down, like the bald eagles do when they make sexy time.     It would also be a lot more fun then talking to a customer service representative.   What in the feck has happened to customer service?  Why does it feel like I’m on this horrible abortion of a show, every time I call a…