I don’t do this ever, but I ran out of time and actually re-purposed an old story.
This story is near and dear to my heart because I was thinking about the holidays and shopping and who doesn’t want a new plasma.
Well, as long as I have a daughter with a trigger finger, I guess, I still don’t.
enjoy a Life’s Crazy Classic.
You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.Staring at a 50 inch rectangle of muted dreams.What was a brilliant, expansive, orgasmic plasma tv is now a massive grey paper weight.
What once blistered my eyes and ears with spectacular moments is now a quiet, ugly black hole in my living room.
I feel like a monkey in 2001 a Space Odyssey. Suddenly there is this huge monolith in my living room. I am drawn to it, I sit before it, I want to touch it.
But why?
It’s dark and dead and destined for the curb.
This monolith was a state of the art plasma tv. Now it’s a reminder that just when you think you got life figured out, life kicks you right in the jewels.
My monolith was the focal point of my home existence. It brought me football games in crystal clear clarity. It informed me with news from around the globe. It once serenaded me with the music of my choice through digital satellite exuberance.
In fact, the last damned thing this son-of-a-bitch thing broadcast this morning was the death of Korean dictator, Kim Jong Il. That’s irony. I knew those big lady glasses were evil.
Now this 50 inch Panasonic is a quiet reminder of a happier phosphorescent time.
Why is my Panasonic dark and dull like a Tim Burton movie?
Because my daughter cracked the screen.
“How is everything going?” I ask over the phone.
There’s a strained silence. Not the usual dad you are an idiot and I am a cool 17 year old girl vibe.
No, it was quiet. Too quiet.
“what’s wrong,” i say.
“everything was great till we cracked the tv.”
My brain becomes a pin ball machine tilting out of control.
“Cracked the Plasma!”
“Yeah we were flipping quarters and it hit the screen. Now it won’t turn on. I’m sorry.
You could cook an omelet on my forehead I was so hot.
“It wont’ turn on? How the hell? The glass is Cracked? How in the world…”
I can only try and stay calm. What’s the sense of blowing a gasket.
“We’ll talk about it when I get home,” I say hanging up.
I sit there staring at my cubicle wall. Wont’ turn on? What the hell did they hit it with? a wrecking ball.
I am no Maytag repair man, but I can only imagine that the gas that fills the mechanism escaped through the crack. All I know is the power light comes on and the monolith of dullness stares at me, screaming in silence.
Am I depressed?
Hell freaking yes.
Merry Xmas, AC.
Got another 700 dollars you can drop on an audio visual center?
Well sure, if I don’t feel like heating the house this month. What a drag.
OK. I need to do a Bill Clinton and compartmentalize. I mean, my house didn’t burn down, and nobody was killed in a car wreck. For that I am grateful. In the over all context of life it is just a thing.
But damn if I didn’t love this thing.
And the irony is, I paid 200 dollars for a 3 year warranty.
“Of course we’ll take it back and replace it,” the sales girl says with alacrity over the phone.
No questions asked?, I think to myself.
“What happened?” she says.
“The screen is cracked,” I say not wanting to immediately indict my own off spring.
The manager gets on the phone.
“There’s no way they will pay for that,” he says solemnly. “A cracked screen is customer abuse, and the company won’t pay for it. I can offer you a new model for 650 dollars,” he says.
Take your dirty sales pitch and go lay down on the tracks wise ass. I’m in mourning here.
Would you offer the widow who just buried her husband a new deal on snow tires.
Get off my damn lawn, I think to myself.
A new set. The warranty on the monolith won’t even cover this new set. I have a 2 year warranty on a gigantic paper weight that cave monkey’s want to fondle.
it’s ridiculous.
What a Grinch who stole Christmas moment.
I told my daughter S*** happens.
She was honest and even offered to pay.
That’s nice. But I want to watch the Superbowl this year.
Her part time, minimum wage job will see me pushing a wheel chair by the time she pays this one off.
I appreciate her offer, but I have come to the audio/visual fork in the road.
Do I buy cheap, buy used, buy smaller, or try and replace my penthouse deluxe plasma Ferrari with a comparable unit.
I sure like the way it felt when it took me around the planet at the click of a button. It was like a girlfriend who never said no.
now that girlfriend has a huge ass crack in the front of her plasma screen face.
And I am sad. And holding a warranty as useful as carpet lint.
That is crazy.