The video store in my neighborhood is closing; everything must go, including perhaps the concept of a "Video store." You could probably get that cheap. It's closing because the chain's been hammered by crafty, cut-rate competition: Netflix's bounteous buffet, and Redbox. If you don't know the latter, you don't go to McDonald's. They're all over, although they usually don't have a big guy like the picture shows, telling Redbox a thing or two. At McD's they have a picture of a guy sucking on a 42-quart jumbo sugar-water, pointing the remote, with an expression of sullen entitlement that's hard to describe, like I can't believe I had to rent this movie because the version I downloaded from that Bulgarian site was all dubbed. The box slogan:

That certainly distinguishes it from other stores, where they shove the video in your hand, make you buy it, and come around later to make sure you simply endured it. Redbox's appeal is location, price, and ease of use. Put in your card, get your video. No memberships. No clerk asking if you want damage protection for a quarter, or membership in UltraClub, or telling you that you're six bucks poorer because you have late fees on a stupid movie you didn't even finish because you feel aslee.

Anyway, Redbox just got a bit closer to bending Hollywood to its will:

Redbox had sued because studios were restricting access to new releases. The studios were unhappy their stuff was going for a buck a day, which redefined what people expected to pay. They're still unhappy. But mark my words, they'll compromise on that 28-day window down the road, because this is probably the last gasp of the physical-media distribution model. Except for Netflix. But Redbox has to have employees to deliver stock to the machines. Netflix outsources their distribution sector to a little company called "The Postal Service."