To TV or not to TV, That is the Question

My television is dying. There was a time in my life going without a television would have been akin to going without food. Okay, that may be overstating things just a bit, but I craved TV just like people crave sweets. As a young unmarried adult I watched a lot of television. I was even one of those individuals who set his VCR to tape shows I would miss if I had to work or was out on a date. (The work thing happened a whole lot more than the date thing.) As much as it pains me to admit it I even watched thirtysomething every week. I have changed a lot over the years. The desire to save the expense of replacing the television may actually out weigh the desire to have a television. (If my children read this there will be a groan of displeasure similar to the one uttered by the John Wayne fan when he figured out what kind of western Brokeback Mountain actually was.)
Shopping for a television sounds like a rather daunting task nowadays. I have had my TV for quite a while. When I bought it the choices were color or black and white, cable ready or not, what kind of remote (a remote is as necessary as food, especially for the male of the species) and how big the screen was to be. Now there are more choices than the early bird buffet at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. There are flat screen TVs which you can hang on the wall like a painting. The problem is for the price you might as well buy a Van Gogh. Granted there is less variety of images but the re-sale value is much greater. There are high definition televisions. These high tech marvels make it possible for the viewer to see the individual trails of sweat as they travel down Shaquille O’Neal’s forehead as he clanks yet another free throw. That is actually kind of gross. Then there are plasma screen televisions. What the heck is a plasma screen? Plasma is something you donate to the Red Cross not something used to watch reruns of The Love Boat.
Since I am officially a cheapskate and also somewhat overwhelmed by the choices involved in shopping for a TV, buying a replacement may not happen. I inadvertently have already gone through a sort of twelve step program to overcome my unhealthy addiction to television. It started with the birth of my children. They became more and more in charge of the channels the TV would be tuned to. Before kids, if I had the choice of watching Jeopardy or reading a book I would watch Jeopardy. I could at least rationalize to myself I was doing something of an intellectual nature as I tried to beat the contestants to the proper response. Where else can my fabulous knowledge of comic books of the late seventies come into play? Then we had children. Now the choice became do I want to watch Teletubbies or have a ten penny nail forced through my ear lobe. I choose the nail.
The next step was getting rid of cable. We have been without cable or satellite channel options for over five years. With only three or four channels to choose from television loses some of its allure. Channel surfing is a misnomer. There is no “cowabunga” as I use the remote to flip up and down three channels. It takes about thirteen seconds to see each station five times and decide watching NASCAR, golf or golf does not interest me on a Sunday afternoon.
The final step actually happened quite recently. I was given the opportunity to watch television all afternoon on a set which did have cable. This seemed like a great idea to me at the time. What I found out was there are about twenty-seven different shows with fake judges telling people completely devoid of common sense how to solve their problems and eleven or twelve talk shows hosted be mid-range used-to-be stars like Tyra Banks or Tony Danza. Next there will be an entire network of talk shows hosted by the likes of former stars of the Facts of Life and, from the minimum security prisons of southern California, the stars of Different Strokes. I then decided I would go to the safe home land for men all over the country – the all sports network. What did I find there? Championship dominoes. Actual commentary from the guys covering this: Play-by-play guy “Oh! He cut the trey. Why did he cut the trey?” Expert color commentator, “Sometimes Brown’s out to lunch.”
I rest my case.