Our television (named Philip after his manufacturer daddy) is possessed which, while weird, is far better than repossessed. Repossessed would be downright tragic – and totally without merit since that sucker was completely paid for before leaving the store. As our accountant friends would say, “Philip is in the black.”
In the black. They don’t know how right they are.
If Philip is on for a certain amount of time – and that length of time is a subject of debate among his primary viewers – he will suddenly turn off. *Poof!* Silence and a black screen followed by a mad scramble to find the correct remote and get him flickering again, a scene not unlike one you’d witness at the Running of the Bulls.
We don’t know why Philip decides to shut off at seemingly random moments. Actually, I don’t think they are all that random. I believe something sinister is afoot. Consider this: Philip only goes dark during one of three moments.
(1) The climatic screen of a movie I’ve been watching for 3 hours, or…
(2) The pivotal at bat during a baseball game when a mere seeing-eye base hit is all that separates glory from bitter agony, or…
(3) As the reporter is saying, “And seek shelter IMMEDIATELY if you live in one of the following counties…”
Yet if a show like Say Yes to the Dress or Jerseylicious or My Strange Addiction is on, Philip hums along like a kid on a warm summer morning kicking a rounded pebble down a dirt road. Clearly, he’s a vicious tease hell-bent on tormenting me. He knows I’m all engrossed. Oh yes, he knows. He sees me and decides, “Now would the perfect time to mess with him.” I’m convinced his little TV brain makes a conscious decision to tune me out. Imagine that, televisions tuning out humans. I’m telling you, this is only the beginning. I hope you’re prepared because the machines are taking over. HAL is coming to your house and he’s being escorted by a legion of determined NS-5’s.
Maybe at 4 years old Philip’s feeling his age. I know there’s an age translation formula for many things, but I’m not sure how many people years 4 TV years equates to. However, I suspect as a species televisions age much faster than they once did. It’s not that they break faster. They don’t. (Although one that mysteriously turns off cannot reasonably be considered in tip-top condition.) They simply become outdated so fast.
[There’s a Best Buy commercial which illustrates this perfectly. Maybe you’ve seen it. It shows people who have just bought the latest technological do-dad, only to become agitated when they find out it’s been completely replaced by something better before they can even remove their new do-dad from its box. It’s pretty funny, mainly because it’s true.]
Anyway, if a television built in 1980 could be expected to live 12 useful years one could reasonably determine the formula for figuring out its human age would’ve been something like “1 TV year = 6 human years”. After 12 years that 1980 television would be like a 72 year old person. Sounds reasonable, right? Well brothers and sisters, this ain’t 1980. Nowadays, thanks to emerging technologies like HD, 3D, HD3D, R2D2 and WD40, the formula is closer to “1 TV year = 72 human years.” Come to think of it, that explains a lot about Philip. Maybe he’s not possessed. Maybe he’s 288 years old! No wonder he nods off now and then.
Nodding off
Trask Avenue 