A few weeks ago, I did a Tuesday TV Touchbase post on the "The Death Of Television" wherein I pontificated on the decline into irrelevance of network and cable TV.
Today's post as a similar title but is of a more practical matter.
Today we address the death of the television that has provided entertainment here in the Fortress of Ineptitude for nearly 2 decades.
A few weeks ago, our television set began what I will call "futzing". This futzing took the form of the screen dividing up in 5 horizontal bars with some distortions in color and breaking up any on screen graphics. This futzing would continue for a minute or three then would snap into normal focus.
This futzing could be fixed with a single whack of the TV in the right spot. My daughter Randie could always find the right spot to make that work. I alas could not.
The TV wasn't dead yet but it was clearly going to die, sooner or later.
Most red blooded American men would see this as a wonderful alternative to go out a spend big bucks to get a BIGGER better TV that didn't futz. I am not like most red blooded American men and found the futzing was a small price too pay to not have to pay any price at all for a BIGGER better TV that didn't futz.
Then the opportunity arose to replace the futzing TV with a a BIGGER better TV that didn't futz for the amazingly low price oif $0.00,
Let me talk about my father in law, John. John has an extraordinary gift to find best prices on the best stuff. He had a chance to replace his existing that didn't futz with a BIGGER better TV for a ridiculously low price. I don't have the exact numbers but it was like a $1,000 TV for like a hundred bucks or something. Which was all perfectly legal and involved no mobsters or anything.
So he offered to give me his old perfectly functioning TV which is BIGGER than my old TV which as I noted is futzing.
I was still reluctant because free TVs are not completely free. I know how the universe I live in works and I knew there would be obstacles.
There were obstacles.
This past Saturday, my wife Andrea and I set out from the Fortress of Ineptitude to retrieve our free TV from her father's house.
I thought I would just transport the TV in the back seat of our Camry. But John suggested it would be better if I pulled down the back seat and carry it in the trunk.
Well, yes, that would be a better idea.
Except...
I don't know how to pull down the back seat.
I paced around the Camry, poked and prodded for any miracle button that would allow me to pull down the back seat.
So one price for this free TV would be my pride. Well, I was never big on self-respect anyway. So I dejectedly went back into John's house to confess to my wife and her father that I didn't know how to pull down the back seat.
We all went outside to see if we could collectively figure this out.
My father in law is 20+ years old than me but his mind is still sharp and he's quite a capable individual. But he too paced around the Camry, poked and prodded for any miracle button that would allow him to pull down the back seat.
One was not to be found.
So we did what red blooded American men are loathed to do: we consulted the manual.
I looked through the manual's index scanning intently for any thing that might help us solve this mystery when suddenly there it was: Seat, Back, How to Fold Down For Extra Trunk Space.
Yeah! I was about to announce "Hey, I think I know how to do this!" Suddenly, Andrea calls out, "Hey, I got the back seat down!"
So there was much rejoicing.
We loaded the flat screen into the Camry and then spent some time visiting with Andrea's father for a couple of hours because we are horrendously out of shape and needed that long to recover from the exertion of loading it into the car.
Eventually we returned to the Fortress of Ineptitude where Andrea and I unloaded the TV from the car to our home where we sat it down in our living room next to our old TV.
We sat on the couch for about an hour to recover from that.
I cannot overstate this: we are horrendously out of shape.
If I were like other normal red blooded American men, I would want to immediately swap out my futzing older TV for the BIGGER flat screen that doesn't futz and find myself some damn sportsball to watch.
But no.
We turned on the old TV, waited for it to stop futzing and watched a Dick Van Dyke movie from 1967 (subject of a future Cinema Sunday post).
The next morning, I turned on the old TV, waited for the futzing to stop and watched some episodes of Hacks on HBO Max (subject of a future Tuesday TV Touchbase post).
Part of me was getting sentimental about the old TV. It had been with us for so long and yes, it was futzing but it was not completely dead yet. What was the rush?
Yes, there's a bigger, slightly newer flat screen waiting for me but I knew there would be obstacles.
Unplug the old TV, move it out, move in the new TV, plug it in and let's go, right?
That is NOT how my world works.
I knew there would be obstacles.
After lunch, Andrea and I began the process of moving from a TV that futzed to a newer, bigger one that didn't.
Amazingly, the process went smoothly. The new TV with it's bigger, clearer image looked so gorgeous.
It sounded so... silent.
There's no sound.
Why is there no sound?
There should be sound.
But there is no sound!
Why is there no sound?
Really...
WHY IS THERE NO SOUND?!?!?
How can there be a God to have such a mystery confound me so?
(Deep breath.)
(Sigh.)
After some poking and prodding through the settings menu, I was able to find the magic button that restored the sound.
Manual? HA! I don't need no stinkin' manual! HA!
So we have a new functioning TV that doesn't futz.
And like a true red blooded American male, I inaugurated our new TV with some sportsball!
Nah, I'm kidding. I watched a couple of episodes of New Girl on Netflix.