Continuing on with thoughts on remote controls…
(For previous postings on this topic, check out: Part I)
First off, I’m pleased with the commentary the first segment generated. This is promising. My biggest fear in segmenting these posts was that the eventual sequels would be a predictable rehashing of the original post (Think: “Weekend at Bernieâ€™s 2.”) While I still have much to say on the topic of remote controls, if there comes a point where this post has to rely on the blogging equivalent of exhuming Bernie’s corpse for another weekend of implausible hijinks, well, I’m prepared to do just that. Consider yourself warned.
In the first part, I made mention of the fact that I spend most of my waking day searching my house for remote controls. At this point, I’m convinced my wife has placed them in some sort of remote control witness relocation program. For all I know, all the remotes in our house have started new lives under assumed names in different states. For instance, I’m pretty sure our VCR remote is now known as “Bob Smith,” and is working as an insurance adjuster in Fresno.
Now to be fair, I admit, I tend to exaggerate sometimes. That’s why I’m providing some proof documenting the remote control related purgatory I suffer through every day.
The following is an actual email I sent my wife a few months ago:
From: Matt Ring
Sent: Tuesday, January 18, 2005 9:15 AM
To: Jeannette Ring
Subject: RE: Remote Controls
jnet, we need to talk about remote controls.
i looked all over the basement last night for the remote, even searching the area around your treadmill. finally, i discovered it on the poker table in the adjacent room. why would you put the remote there?
and this morning, i searched the bedroom trying to find the tv remote. never did find that one, although i didn’t go downstairs to look on the poker table.
if you’re going to watch tv, and insist on using the remote, can you please make an effort to leave the remote in a logical place?
Naturally, my wife thought this was the funniest thing I’d ever written. Unfortunately, I was being dead serious. As you might guess, this email was the product of unspeakable frustration endured in a futile attempt to find a lost remote. Like every other man on earth, I would rather search an entire city block for the remote than walk over to the TV and operate it manually. It’s just the principle of it all. Seriously, as far as I’m concerned, without the remote, the TV itself is useless.
And I’m sorry, I don’t want to hear from any old-timers (Ken Ring) about how, back in their day, they had to walk uphill in the snow for a mile just to change the channel. Back in those days, there were only three stations anyway, and two of them were ABC and CBS. You practically didn’t even need a remote.
Nowadays, we’ve got options. And unfortunately, most of them are horrible. The remote is the only means to sift through dozens of channels of televised crap in hopes of finding the one show that might be watchable in between countless commercial breaks. Simply put, the remote control is the sole defense I have against the Omarosas, Joe Millionaires, and Spring Break Shark Attacks (sorry CK) of the world. And yet, somehow, my wife manages to misplace this sacred device on a daily basis. Seriously, how often does the Pope lose his hat? How often does Batman misplace his utility belt? The answer is never… The reason for this? Neither man is married.
Coming soon: Part III… (aka: Let’s get Bernie on some water skis!)