One last vertical retrace and that’s IT! No more interlacing for this puppy. From now on it’s the healthy glow of a progressive scan monitor for me. This weekend I nuke that goddam noisy box into roiling plasma.
Every night I come home and that fucking box is blaring. We get to watch Road Drools, Surviv-uh, Martha Stewpot, Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless. NO MORE! I’d rather surf the web, putter around the garage, play chess, even do chores. I don’t care if I have to sit there and read the side of a cereal box. I’ve had ENOUGH!
My girlfriend likes the most intrusive shock shows as background noise, even falls asleep to it. So I am treated to full sound and color coverage of accident victims as we watch Nine-One-Dumb or ER during dinner. She thinks that sitting around watching the idiot box amounts to spending time together. She thinks it’s antisocial of me when, after 4 straight hours of drivel I get up to go do something (anything!) else. She thinks this is just a phase I’m going through. She even tried to bribe me by promising me the remote for a full month. She thinks I’m kidding when I say that isn’t even tempting. Excuse me honey, I’m off to slam my lower lip in a car door now.
But for the next few days I’m going to scour the TV guide for the bottom of the barrel. I’ll watch the worst drivel, the most inane shows. Jenny Jones, Springer, even Stern. I’ll avoid anything that looks even remotely educational. And I’ll smile beatifically as I hang on every meaningless white trash confession. Because I have a plan.
Early Saturday morning me & the TV go for a little ride, see. We even get to do a little 4 wheeling as we drive to my favorite old quarry. I have in mind a nice flat area bordered by high berms all around. I’ll spread out a 40’ x 40’ poly tarp and position the TV right in the middle on a makeshift altar. I’ll plug it into my portable generator. I’ll hook up a modified Yagi directional array and tune in Wheel Of Fortune from the valley below. I’ll craftily hide behind a berm a safe distance away. I’ll put my earplugs in, pull on a full set of welding leathers, and slide on a hard hat, full faceshield, and safety glasses. On the truck stereo I’ll key up Twisted Sister blasting out ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It Anymore’. Cackling insanely, I will watch through binoculars as I trigger the combination of selected chemicals I just happen to have laying around.
I will time it for just when Pat Sajak is ogling Vanna’s ass for the 100,000th time as she spins all the Q’s around, still bitter that she earns more than him. The resulting shockingly violent explosion will be a carthartic experience. It will be like pulling a rusty nail out of my soul. If my calculations are correct, the concussion should bounce me nearly clear of the ground. Milliseconds behind, shrapnel will surf the shock wave at supersonic speed. The peak overpressure at the center of the implosion should be enough to pulverize all glass and plastic. Enough to shatter and scatter the main transformer. Enough to vaporize the case and twist the chassis into a metal balloon. Enough to make me a very happy man. Then I’ll expunge any lingering feelings of resentment with an M-1 Garand and and 5 stripper clips of hot loads.
I’ll carefully roll up the tarp and dump the smoldering shards into a steel bucket. I’ll pick out the largest few shreds, spray paint them bronze, and staple them to a plaque commemorating the occasion. Then I’ll pour acetone in the bucket and set it off with a torch on a 10 foot pole. After it cools I’ll dump the twisted blackened metal remains in the recycle bin. I’ll take the plaque home and hang it on the wall where the TV used to go. Right next to the big new BOOK SHELF I’m buying on the way back through town. Our mission for the remainder of the year will be to fill it with worthwhile things to read over the winter. While we’re doing that, we’ll spend lots of quality time together combing through bookstores. I’ll spend the cable TV money on interesting and informative magazine subscriptions. I might even get back to some of those hobbies that have been on hold for way too long.
Ha ha! Yes indeed, I feel like my luck just changed. Gotta run, Stern is on! Zippity doo dah, zipfuckin-a…