Nothing funny about feldspar

Dear oracle of the ætherial communion,
O show me a sign!
Is it in my future to depart from the tried-and-true
To leave the best-in-my-region coverage
For the ability to download my own pictures without the additional sacrifice required by that avaricious provider?

If I do forswear the Big V, to whom will I turn? Which other will give me what I ask?
All I ask is unfettered access by the protocol of the King of Denmark,
And a device which will remain nearly ever-ready, at least for when I leave it in my pouch overnight. Truly I do not mean to starve it, but sometimes I forget.
And an automatic engraver! Oh, yes! A way to show the world that I am just as bad an engraver of portraits as everyone else!

No, I am not willing to pay for each minute! No!
No, I am not willing to pay for each message! No!
No, I am not willing to pay for each image! No!
No, I am not! I am quite a mean consumer, terrible to these encorporates as I decline to line their pockets with my gold.

I pay for my recalcitrance by required supplication to the wisdom of the internet, though there is scant wisdom there — only connections to shady characters with wares to flog.

What shall I do? What shall I do?