You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
The remote control.
My dad has 7 remotes. Not 7 for his house…7 FOR ONE VIEWING AREA.
There is one from Sony. One from Toshiba. One from Pioneer. One from Onkyo. One from Comcast. I suspect if Trojans Prophylactics made remote controls, there would be one standing erect in this box.
He even has a red white and blue remote from Directv that is decorated like the New York Giants.
“Super Bowl champs,” my dad will remind me.
There are less electronics aboard the space shuttle than on the coffee table in my dad’s living room.
Buttons and symbols and infra red sensors. It’s crazy.
Symbols like PIP and ENTER and AUX.
It’s like getting exrayed at the dentist. You need to wear a lead apron over your private parts so you don’t suffer reproductive damage just to change channels.
I look at this box of electronic wands before me and laugh. It’s a plastic Stone Henge.
I wonder how the “ancients” moved all these devices to this box without space ships.
I examine one remote. The writing is so small few humans can read it without a microscope. I almost expect paleontologists to arrive with feather dusters trying to decipher the cryptic symbols.
“it’s easy to turn on the tv,” my dad says.
Really?
Easy like walking across a field of porcupines in bare feet is easy.
Why so many? Who knows? Do they all work, do they even have batteries? Who can say for sure.
I think some remotes in his box are decoys, attracting unsuspecting viewers to the couch, like wooden Mallards that hunters use to lure game to the kill.
There are universal remotes, galactic remotes and solar system remotes. If you want to see the weather on Mars, my dad has a remote that can get you there.
There are buttons that control DVD players, and comcast cable boxes and Direct satellites and so many devices, you need a guy named Wang with a degree from MIT to figure this out.
One remote has a help button but when you push it all it does is suggest you go back to college or go buy a new tv with less remotes.
Thanks for the help – help button.
Easy? Like combing your hair with a potato peeler is easy.
“How do you turn on the tv?” I ask again, like a Kindergarten kid playing with loaded revolver.
He just keeps saying, “It’s easy to turn on. What’s so hard?”
He picks up a black remote. “first you push this button.” That turns on the TV.
He picks up a silver wand. “Then you hit this button that activates the satellite receiver. “
He puts it down and picks up another tiny device from the
Una-Bomber collection.
“This is the HDMI switcher.”
HDMI switcher? Is this my dad or some guy with a pocket protector and a bunch of pens?
I begin to glaze over. It’s like watching someone work on a carbeurator.
“One is for Directv,” he says with confidence. “3 is for Comcast.”
“What’s two for?” I ask.
He laughs.
I don’t think anyone knows.
Perhaps that is the button that unlocks the much hypothesized Quark.
I suspect that’s the button in the Willy Wonka elevator that nobody has pushed because everyone is afraid the couch will explode through the roof and fly over the city.
He hits a button.
Suddenly the tv turns on, he smiles.
“it’s easy,” he chuckles.
The next day, I stare at the box of remotes.
I am perplexed. what remote did what? where is that black wand? what does it do?
I am frustrated.
“it’s easy,” i grumble under my breath.
I pick up a magazine and begin reading about the excretory patterns of pigeons in Central Park.
Fascinating.
And to think, I now have this knowledge because I was afraid to push the wrong button, and launch a couch through the glass ceiling of my dad’s living room.
and that is crazy.™