The whole desk
Features
An original family of dogs, made for this desk. Not a show you already know. Fifteen seconds on the meter, the guide, the clover, and the chain. Then every part of the house, and what it is for. The walk, with the mission first, is the demo.
Name a show and get a score before the evening starts.
Someone says “can we watch this?” You answer with a number, not a guess.
One arc, 0 to 100, that a house can see across the room.
Drag the evening to the range you will actually allow.
The full written measure of every title, not a clipped line.
Read the verdict, the essay, the eight, and the charge before anyone presses play.
A moving row of what was just scored.
Glance at what is new without opening a feed.
One evening, picked from the highest recent scores.
You are tired and the house is waiting. Press it.
A day of television, set by the scores, in the shape of an old paper guide.
Plan the evening the way a house used to plan it, and change a slot if it does not fit.
The people at your table, and the titles that clear every floor.
See what a grandparent and a five-year-old can sit through together.
A grown person writes why a show is worth keeping. It stays on this device.
Nana tells the girls why a story mattered, and they read it on this same screen.
The children tap a name, a picture, and how it felt.
Annie, Louise, or Kiki tells the house what they liked, in their own words.
Six ways to tell a story so more than one age can hear it.
Before you press play, choose how the room will hear it.
Specific family stories, marked for the table, for sitting together, or for older people.
Pick the shape of the evening: a father who stays, a house that keeps a child, a lie that costs the house.
The highest measures on the desk.
Start here when you want the best of what has already been scored.
Films shelved by the Living Meter.
Find a picture the household can finish.
Series, scored and sorted.
See whether a show is one evening or a habit.
The titles this house is following.
Keep the ones you mean to come back to.
Set a title aside without losing it.
Not tonight. Not never.
What this house keeps.
The shelf you would hand to someone who just arrived.
The ones worth sitting with again.
The short list for a Sunday.
She scores a story you name, and she can sing it.
Ask out loud when you do not want to type.
What the number is measuring, and why it matters.
Show a guest the rule before they argue with the score.
Age, interests, and the range each measure must meet.
Set the house once. The shelves follow.
The questions a family asks, by age.
After the story, you already know what to ask a seven-year-old and what to ask a fifteen-year-old.
Whether a person in the story grows, holds, or falls.
Decide if the change is one you want copied.
The eight measures, and how a score is made.
When someone asks “who decided?”, open this.
One minute of film for each virtue.
Teach the eight without a lecture.
Stories a house already knows, scored the same way.
Start from a book you trust, not from the chart.
Who owns the shelf, and how their measure has moved.
Look at the network, not only the title.
The houses behind the songs.
See the label, not only the chorus.
Songs scored, including the old public-domain ones.
Put on something the whole table can hear.
What a house puts on the table.
The evening is not only a screen.
A wagon game. Keep a bad story out.
A child practices the same choice the desk is making.
Groups and evenings near you.
Find a house that is already doing this.
A family's own record of the evening.
Keep the account of what you watched, on your ground.
The measures you kept on this device.
Come back to a score you already trusted.
Your name on the door, and the family desk.
See the evening as a household, not as a profile.
The shelves, by company and by year.
Watch whether a network is getting better or worse.
Free films and the scored shelf.
Press play on something that already cleared the bar.
A seat at the desk. Vote on the next story.
The house helps choose what gets measured next.
Pass a month to another house.
Someone you love does not have this yet.
Reserve a seat at a house screening.
The story is watched in a room, not alone.
Live hours, and the recording after.
Sit in when the desk is open, or catch it later.
The films and the mark, yours to keep.
Take a copy home.
The folder of stills from the desk.
Use a picture when you pass a measure on.
Put Live Historic on your phone.
The evening starts in the kitchen, not at a computer.
The lamp, the sound, the name on the door.
Make the desk fit the room.
How the desk is drawn, and what it will not do.
When someone asks why it looks like paper.
How a name and a sentence are paired.
See why the title and the verdict are not the same face.
What the desk is, and the plain terms.
Hand this to someone who wants the short version.
How the desk works.
You are stuck. Start here.
What stays on the device, and what does not.
Before you write a family note, read where it lives.