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Two years ago, on a reporting assignment, a small TV crew and I were shacked up in a houseboat near the Rio Negro in Brazil, when it rained. I have never in my life been so thankful to be near a portable DVD player. There are only so many games of spades in a deck of cards, and even a bunch of Arkansas boys run out of Aggie jokes eventually. When a cameraman plugged his player into the TV, we were able to leave the Amazon basin for the dustscapes of Blazing Saddles and The Outlaw Josey Wales. And—notably, after 10 days of sharing cramped rooms and tiny boats—no one murdered anyone. Well, except Clint Eastwood.

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