The day the TV died

My TV's dying. I finally came to that realization last night - after weeks of poor performance - while watching Glengarry GlenRoss. It's quite the shame. We were just getting to the part in the movie where everyone's yelling and insulting each other.

I guess to say that it's completely "dead" would be a misrepresentation of the truth. The audio works perfectly. In fact, I tried to enjoy the film strictly by audio. One could, especially if one is me, because I've seen that film like 10 times in the last year alone; I could even picture, perfectly, the expression on Alan Arkin's face when he asks for coffee before being questioned by the police. If that sounds mundane to you, I'll submit that there's nothing mundane in this film. So there.

But again, to imply that there is no picture would be another misrepresentation of the truth. I have exactly 50% of the screen. The bottom half. On the top, it's just darkness. These two regions are separated by a blinding white light. So blinding that I truly think it would be damaging if one stared at it for a minute or so. Seriously, it freaks me out. It's like an eclipse or something. You know you shouldn't look but, hey man, that's really bright.

So while imagining the expression on Alan Arkin's face, I'm actually seeing his expression from basically the crotch down. And I don't care what anyone says, the crotch is just a horrible place to observe non-verbal communication. Scientists say that there is only one prominent crotch expression, and that is done by thrusting the pelvis. And even then, you don't have to just stare at the crotch to see that kind of thing. You can pretty much get the effect by looking anywhere on the body. (Note: Most people find it preferable if you look them in their eyes while talking to them, and especially while they're thrusting. It's off-putting and insultingly expectant to stare at somebody's crotch, waiting for them to thrust. The things you can learn on a bus, huh?)

The TV isn't even that old. I bought it in tenth grade with money I made at my exploitive customer service job. I didn't even know I needed a new TV until a friend from school observed that my room was sweet, but would be even sweeter if I had a TV larger than the one I had - just a 13-inch. This came after I had tried to impress him with my stereo, which I still own now. I turned it on and played some bitchin' track from a Dave Matthews Band album (which marks the first time in history that the words "bitchin'" and "Dave Matthews Band" ever shared a sentence). He immediately noticed the lack of bass. Being an out-of-touch dork, I prefered treble over bass those days. In fact, I think I probably hadn't fully shed the habit of pronouncing "bass" as if were a fish. In efforts to wow him, I turned the bass as far as it could go. He was indeed wowed. Overcome with the sweetness of my room, my friend, in a last-ditch effort (and low-blow, if you ask me) to chip away at my overall sweetness factor, pointed out my tiny television. At the time, it seems he was right. However, in hindsight, he was probably damn right. Turn up the bass, I say!

Being a self-conscious teenager with low self-esteem, I immediatly ran out and bought a new TV. (Some teens turned to dressing all in black or rebelling against their parents or beating up on people like me, or all three, to deal with low self-esteem. I just bought stuff.) I more than doubled the size of my last one: 27 inches. And for 7 years, it has been more than accomodating. Now, poof. Where once I enjoyed one of my favorite movies, I'm now forced to watch the expressions on Alan Arkin's crotch while he delivers his lines. And that's pretty boring, considering there's absolutely no pelvic thrusting in this film at all.

Tags: television, pelvic thrusting, peer pressure