Revenge of the Boob Toob

In the past, I have committed many offenses against the television. This last weekend, the television exacted it revenge.

But first, an update on my previous entry. I mentioned clearing out the Porn Collection, but didn't mention why this is worthy of mention. Forget what the collection is composed of - I have many collections of many sorts of things. It is a manifestation of my problems with OCD. As the disorder goes, I have a mild case, but it is there and it does annoy me. I have a history of turning attention to something and, instead of acquiring enough of it to fill the reasonable needs or desires, I need to have ALL of it. The phrase "Collect the Entire Set" comes to mind. Even if I don't collect the entire set, it is hard as hell to part with the pieces I do own. So, while I may not be a hoarder in the classic sense, I do have small hoards of 'stuff' hidden in the corners of my living space.

Being able to look at one of The Collections straight in the eye, then haul it off to the trash (the recycle bin, actually), isn't a huge victory, but it is significant. I went from this to throwing out some other non-related items, then dealing with a cyber-collection of music and e-book downloads that had taken over my computer. It was refreshing.

I can hardly wait to see what I throw out next.

With Kat and Shannon out of town, I have been watching their house and taking care of cats. I also decided to enjoy myself a bit by watching some movies. Over the course of three evenings I planned to watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy. So on Friday I watched the Fellowship of the Ring while sipping a wee bit of wine. On Saturday I returned and slipped The Two Towers into the DVD player, then turned on the TV. Nothing happened. No picture, no muted click - nothing. I did all the standard things (power, remote, cursing, hitting) and still nothing.

For years I have spoken out against the evils of the Television. The crap that comes in through the cable or satellite feed is pure trash - brain numbing, low, filthy trash. So when I finally want to use the box for my own higher desires, it smiles, it winks, it arranges for a cold solder joint to finally crack, thereby depriving me of my pleasure.

At least the damned thing is still under warranty.