This past weekend my father and I had an extremely important job to do: buy a new TV. To some simpletons out there, this may appear to be an easy task, however searching for a new television is tremendously important because, when you think about it, TV’s control our lives. Television is where we watch our sports, view our shows, and, most importantly, it’s a subject I’ve wasted countless hours writing upon.
My father and I walked into our local Best Buy and weren’t quite sure what we wanted, but knew the key words to search for when TV shopping. Terms that symbolize “good buy” in the television business are 52 inches, plasma, and flat screen. These words directly translated mean “cool.” Unfortunately, during our search, pops and I found many TV’s with all these qualities as well as countless others including interesting features such as surround sound, wide dimensions, an attribute most depraved men tend to look for elsewhere, built in DVD player, and sharp image, direct translation: a pointy image, alternatively used as a knife.
Being the pride-driven, testosterone-filled men that we are, dad and I decided to buy the biggest TV in the store because, under standard male logic, the biggest is the bestest. Sadly, we quickly realized that the television would not fit through the garage door, much less on our living room wall. Nonetheless, we remained undeterred and decided instead to get the TV with the flattest screen because under standard male logic, flattest is almost as bestest as biggest. Regrettably, all of the televisions claimed to have the flattest screen and hence, we were again stuck back at square one. It was at this point in time that I had my stroke of genius, “Why not buy the most expensive TV?” I asked my father. The one that costs the most must be the best. However, Bill Gates might have found the most expensive TV to be out of his price range, and thus we were once again empty-handed.
My father and I dropped our heads in dejection and turned to leave the wonder that is Best Buy when all of a sudden a nearby employee squeaked, “Hey guys, my name’s Bill. Need some help buying a TV?” We did need help and therefore decided to trust this employee with our purchase. Bill looked like a television expert. At first glance, I immediately recognized that Bill was a serious TV watcher. Whether it was the unkempt hair and shirt that tipped me off, the hard-earned, beer-filled gut, or the bloodshot eyes behind his enormous, Buddy Holly cokebottle glasses, I don’t know, but I had faith in Bill. Bill told us that the most important aspect of TV shopping was high definition. “You like football?” Bill piped. “Of course, what do I look like, the Dalai Lama?” I thought. “Well if you do,” Bill said, “You’ll love this TV. With this puppy, you can see Tom Brady’s nose hair!” While I’m a big Tom Brady fan, I don’t really find it necessary to view his nose hair during a game, so I told Bill to forget about it and my dad and I reluctantly continued our search alone.
That day, I came away with a lot of important knowledge, mainly that I hate Best Buy. Nevertheless my father did buy a new TV. It was the gargantuan, hi-def television that Bill had so strongly recommended for its uncanny ability to pick up on Tom Brady’s nostrils. My dad is a serious Tom Brady fan.
