Ode To The Box

O, black box of joy
I brought thee into my house last eve
Thy weight was massive upon thy pedestal
I have gazed longingly
At thy clear image and sound
I marvel at thy rectangular screen
Upon which I have already viewed a film
12 Monkeys
Which made even the visage of Bruce Willis appealing
May we be enjoined as one
In loving bliss
For many years hence

Yes, as I told you below, I received my Christmas present from Mr M last night, and it was indeed a new television for the Poderosa.

A little bit of ESP (not my buddy ESP, the brain kind) was at work where this gift was concerned. See, round about the end of October my living room television started having a few problems with schizophrenia. I'm not sure what exactly happened to cause this, I mean, up till then he was a very stable and likeable fella, but suddenly my TV couldn't decide if he wanted to be a television set or a radio. Because I started turning him on to watch any number of programs or movies, and don't you know he'd go into some sort of 1930s flashback where he refused to show me anything, but his sound came out loud and clear.

Now, I'm sure he thought this was cute, but there's something massively infuriating about watching a TV with no picture. Even the most even-tempered of us can only do it for a little while, and, well, I've got the impatience of the Anti-Job, whoever he would be. Actually, the Anti-Job could be me, or Mamaw Bowles, when she was alive.

And so when I first informed Mr M of this personality disorder my TV had developed, he was quite surprised, because he had already decided that he was going to buy me a TV for Christmas. And now, although he had to blow the surprise, even if it wasn't his fault and all the fault of my schizophrenic TV, he'd given me a ray of hope to live upon - "If only you can put up with half a TV till Christmas...." And so I decided that I could.

It wasn't always easy, though.

Generally the loss of picture would happen when starting the TV up. So there I'd be, all ready to watch a show, or stick in a movie, or be entertained during my lunch hour, and...*pbbbbt.* Nothing. But sound. But sometimes it would happen right in the middle of something, a movie, a show, a sporting event. Vick goes back to pass for the Hokies, it's a 50-yard bomb, King is there to catch it, and... *pbbbbt.* Nothing. But sound.

(By the way, that description above contained a blatant lie, as Jeff King is a tight end for the Hokies and would never be at the receiving end of a 50-yard bomb, but I couldn't think of a wide receiver's name right offhand. Just so you know.)

And so, I would respond the only way I knew how. I would proceed to beat the living shit out of my television. I would do this because, well, it worked once. And then it would work again very occasionally, and it was also, if the truth be told, kind of fun. I'd just beat and beat, till my frustrations were vented and my fists were sore, and then later on I took to giving my TV very impressive kung-fu kicks with my leg waist-high out to my side. And whether it worked or not, there became something liberating about physically abusing a piece of one's living room furniture.

But my TV must have known his end was near, because the night before Mr M came down to take me to get New Set, Old Set just gave in. From 4pm till bedtime he was pictureless, and no amount of boxing or kung-fu would bring him back to life.

He ended not with a bang, but with a whimper. And a punch to the ribs.

And last night, Mr M arrived, and we went New Set shopping. And I have to admit here, I didn't really know what to expect. It should come as no surprise to you that I'm not often taken into stores, let off my leash (did you know I'm often leashed in stores?), and told to have at it. And so we walked around the Big Wall of TVs, looking at what they had, their features, their sizes... and, well, I was looking at their prices. As I would. Remember the Big Mattress Buy of '05 (so blogged 8/16/05).

Mr M pointed to a TV roughly the size of the screen at the long-defunct Skyway Drive-In Theater and said, "How about that one?" and I laughed, because, well, I knew he was joking. And when he looked at me like maybe he wasn't joking, I said, "Mr M (even though I didn't, cause I seldom address him as that), that's bigger than my whole living room wall!" "Well, I was wondering," he responded, thoughtfully and earnestly. I looked at the price - it was in the neighborhood of $1280, and frankly, that's not a neighborhood I'm used to inhabiting.

And I started to freak out a little bit, because I was looking at a TV that looked just like Mr Schizophrenia and had the same price tag, around $330.

But see, this is why Mr M can be such a wonderful person (although he'll cringe when he sees I told you that), and why his gift of a TV to me, even before he knew mine went schizophrenic, was so thoughtful. He wanted me to have a new TV that would be good for watching movies, an activity he knows I love a great deal.

So we stared a little more, and I began to get a little hinky thinking about all this. And we walked around a little, and I expressed interest in one of the TVs I'd looked at, one he'd pointed out to me, and in fact, this very one here. I was worried, though, and said by way of a conversation starter, "Boy, some of those TVs are pretty expensive, aren't they?" To which Mr M replied, "Yeah, but I was prepared to spend up to $1500 for one."

He kept walking. I stopped dead in my tracks.

And I replied the only way I thought he would appreciate. "Well, can I get one of the cheaper models and take the difference in cash?" And then I began to giggle uncontrollably there in the aisle. I was becoming helpless.

"You knew I was going to say that, didn't you?" I continued. "No," he said, laughing, "Even for you that was pretty low." Well, he does call me LCD (Lowest Common Denominator).

In the end, I decided to go with the one that caught my eye from the start, the comfortably mid-priced one linked above and pictured below. It was $30 higher than the other one I liked, basically the same model with the tuner/receiver/something not included. "Wonder how much the tuner/receiver/something separately would be," I mused. "My guess is about $30," was Mr M's reply. And he was probably right.

The comfortably mid-priced mattress, the comfortably mid-priced TV. And I'm very happy with both.

As an aside, this TV weighs more than a well-fed family of five. We had to get my mom and dad to help us unload it and get it inside, then Mr M was nice enough to get it plugged in, going, and hooked up to the VCR and DVD. And he enjoyed a piece of his Christmas gift from Granny, her much-coveted and loved homemade fudge.

And after all that, the coming down and spending and lifting and tugging and putting together, it was time for Mr M to go home. And he forgot his fudge. That's just not fair.

But he'll get it this weekend. And I get to watch my new TV. I'm going to have to find another piece of my furniture to abuse, though. I was getting used to that.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Also on the Christmas front, my dear Taytie got me a book called "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die." I'm going to start going through it tonight to see how many I've already seen, and about how long I have left to live.
* And the tree is down, a very difficult physical task, and it also included an unplanned total reorganization of my spare bedroom closet, and I've still got to vacuum yet. Ahh, life at the Poderosa.