And a HD-3D-Internet one at that. I feel so guilty.
All these years I’ve hummed that classic Janis Joplin’s melody as a sort of subconscious sub rosa protest at what I saw as obsessive, conspicuous consumption all about me. Of course I’m not including in that the absolute necessity for my having a top of the line new MacBook Air to hammer out words, because one should always have access to a portable computer capable of countering Iranian launch codes or engaging galactic evil in warfare to save our planet. Sorry, that example is a bit redundant.
But I have an admission to make. This week in NYC, I took the plunge and bought a new TV (make that two). It’s been almost fifteen years since I purchased my last one. And I couldn’t tell you the make of that old TV if you water-boarded me to a loop of The Absolutely Positively Real Wives of Orange County.
All I know is that when I described what I had been calling my TV to a salesman at one of those big appliance stores he called it an “Annie Log,” or something like that. Then he said I didn’t have a flat, which I didn’t take as all that perceptive since I don’t even own a car here.
Considering my propensity for mating with appliances for well beyond their useful lives, I decided it probably best that I learn a bit more about the available field before taking the big step. So, I turned to the good book for guidance.
No, not the one so many American political groups are battling to claim as their own personal publication; the other one, Consumer Reports. When I am in need it delivers me. Or rather tells me who will deliver what I need.
Since the next time I buy a TV (or two) there’s a good chance Heaven Can Wait will be available for viewing on the original Cloud Network, I decided to opt for one(s) with cutting edge features. I figured that should keep me relatively current with technology for at least a month, maybe two.
But where to buy it? Thank God for my zillion megahertz portable computer. It whizzed me across the Internet to a virtual purchasers’ heaven. Deals were everywhere. So guess where I bought it (and its little brother)? From the American bricks and mortar retailers’ number one nemesis, Amazon. That place has extraordinary prices on everything, including massages and out-on-the-town nights (delivered separately I presume).
Okay, so maybe the rest of the planet already knew that, but what do you expect from someone who’s been living under a rock on a Greek island all these years? Let’s show a little compassion, imagine how I suffered for my ignorance. Forced to find massages and party nights on my own, think of all the Greek television I missed. Those innumerable soccer games, C-grade movie reruns, screaming matches by uninformed political commentators, and Turkish-based soap operas showing what life is all about in the minds of their producers.
Now, thanks to Amazon, I’ll not only have a new TV (plus one) but the time to watch American Football, insightful cable TV news programs, classic films, and serialized sagas based on life in foreign places (See, Id., Orange County). Who needs Greek television, we’ve got it all here!
There is a caveat to this Amazon love fest. If you order a really big TV (or two) and are not equipped or proficient enough to install it yourself, the cost of hiring someone to do it for you may chew up whatever you saved over that bricks and mortar, installation included, price. I’m only saying that to alert you, not to suggest that I would have made such a stupid miscalculation (twice).
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must figure out how to program my remote(s). Hmm, any six-year-olds out there available to lend me a hand with that?
Jeff—Saturday
