Le télévision est retourné a l’Haute Valle de l’Hood River.

In a complicated turn of events, Richard and I have regained television reception in our humble hovel. It required begging our neighbors to allow us to place a satellite dish on their property, convincing some company out of some inhospitable land that we were real people and a large amount of plain, old-fashioned good luck. Oh, and cold, hard cash.

I came home from work Thursday to find a technician in our living room finishing the installation process. Richard was grinning from ear to ear. He looked like a child in a candy shop. The techy handed him the remote. I thought Richard was going to burst into tears. Then I looked closely at the remote. “Oh my god, look at all those buttons,” I gasped.

The techy laughed and went on to explain how truly simple it was to use our new remote, as he handed us the 457 page user’s guide. “Now what do you think you’re going to want to do the most with your new XPS International Satellite Micro-Technically Advanced Remote Digital System (or XPSISMTARDS, as we call it for short)?” he asked.

“Uhh, I was kind of hoping to watch TV.”

“Well, that is simple as pie. You just push this button (he pointed to the one marked ‘T>4.7¥’), key in the 26 digit network code for your installation, enter the language you wish to speak and determine the derivative of the square root of λ, and violà, you’re watching TV.”

I don’t think anyone noticed that my eyes glazed about halfway through his explanation.

“Now, be careful of this button that says ‘P4$$1<’,” he continued. “It has the unfortunate side effect of causing a pre-emptive strike against a small European nation if pressed on a Thursday. And this button, the one that is marked ‘Oo7oĦs’ has been known to disrupt the air-traffic control system at LaGuardia Airport, so you want to use it sparingly.”

“Now, if you want to use your six-room DVR or your M-Peg 2 sub-system of your XPS International Satellite Micro-Technically Advanced Remote Digital System (or XPSISMTARDS, as we call it for short), you need to divine the numerical value of your mother’s maiden name, using MacGregor’s theory of partial inductive science, and, placing your hand on a first-edition copy of Ayn Rand’s ‘The Fountainhead’, recite the Pancreatic Oath.”

I pulled Richard aside. “Do the friggin math. We don’t have six rooms in the house. What in hell are we going to do with a six-room DVR? Oh, and what the hell is a 'six-room DVR'?”

“Don’t worry. I'll explain it later and you can build an addition this summer.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen. If you don’t want to know how to get the full enjoyment out of your new XPS International Satellite Micro-Technically Advanced Remote Digital System (or XPSISMTARDS, as we call it for short), I can just end the instructions at this point,” the techy chided.

We both shuffled our feet and apologized. “We’re sorry, Mr. Technician, sir.”

“Continuing. This button, the unmarked button which is surrounded by dozens of other unmarked buttons, making it virtually impossible to differentiate any one button from its remote-mates, is critical if you want to have audio with your TV. If you don’t press it, or if you erroneously press any one of the seven buttons to its immediate left or right or up or down or in the shape of the cross of Saint Thomas, you will never have sound again as long as you and/or your TV live. I can’t stress this detail enough. It is irreversible.”

Of course, it is important to note that by this point of the instructional period, all cognitive functions of my brain had ground to an unceremonious halt. I was drooling. (It’s a household tradition.)

From there on out, it was pretty much “Blah, blah blah.”

So, our beloved old TV (Circa 1990) is wired to this amazing world that does damn near everything. I know how to turn the TV on and off (old school – at the TV). Richard has promised me he’ll show me how to change channels one night this week.