“DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!”
That's what our son said, years ago, when he hooked up some new electronic gizmo that we probably didn't need, and added one more remote control to the collection next to my recliner.
His admonition as he left was not to touch anything.
ANYTHING.
But then, of course, the inevitable occurred, some wrong button got touched, and the new capabilities made it impossible for mere mortals to turn on the television without taking an electronics course at the local community college. The new gizmo temporarily screwed up our former capabilities.
Our son's first words when he came over to fix the problem:
“I told you not to touch anything. But did you listen to me? No. You went and touched something. And now I've got to figure out what you did.”
It's tough when the familial tables are turned, and the kid whose diapers you changed, the kid you drove to pre-school, the kid you taught to drive – when THAT KID is suddenly giving you the Dutch Uncle routine for touching a wrong button. Respecting your elders goes right out the window when it comes to electronics.
That incident years ago was over hooking up a sound bar. Turns out you can't expect these flat screen TVs to have decent speakers, so you need a sound bar. Then you have to find some young kid who knows how to “sync” to hook it up. And then it's your job not to touch anything.
Since that incident, we bought a new TV so my hearing aids could “Bluetooth” together (!) with the TV, but even our computer-savvy kid couldn't figure out how to do it. We might have to invite the hearing aid guy over for dinner and beg him to sync our gizmos.
So then this Christmas, complicating our situation further, our son gave us a new and improved sound bar. It has great sound, and even has options for news, sports, and music, with different levels of background noise. It came with it's own remote, so I somehow need three remote controls when all I want to do is turn on the TV and watch 50-year-old episodes of “Gunsmoke.”
Our son reminded me once again not to touch anything. But I wanted to see what “Gunsmoke” sounded like with those different versions of background noise.
And that's where I really stepped in it, touching a button I shouldn't have touched. The sound went off completely, and while I could see Matt, Chester and Miss Kitty on the screen, nothing we tried could make the sound come back on. The sound was “Gone Johnson,” as we say in the West. And with three separate remotes, each crammed with buttons, the possibilities for electronic mayhem multiplied exponentially.
Even my wife couldn't fix it, and she's pretty good at this stuff (but don't tell her I said so).
Busy with a vomiting kid of his own at home, our son yelled at his mother that he was too busy to help.
We convinced him to come back the next day, and the first words out of his mouth?
“I told you not to touch anything. But you went ahead and touched something, and now I had to drive clear across town to figure out what you did.”
This, from the kid whose diapers we changed.
He figured it out, and he and my wife talked (unkindly, in my opinion) about measures they could take to “Dave-proof” our TV. (They thought I couldn't hear them, but I heard them alright.)
Our son said he's going to tape a note next to our vast assortment of remotes with the bold, single-word admonition that Biden gave the Russians and the Iranians:
“DON'T!”
There was even talk of rolling up a newspaper and swatting me with it if I persisted in touching unfamiliar buttons.
I say it's a pretty sad situation when unbridled capabilities, endless options, and a matrix of confusing remote controls makes it so hard on a guy who just wants to watch “Gunsmoke,” and hear what Matt, Chester and Miss Kitty are saying.
I ask you, in this new AI world of unlimited possibilities, is that too much to ask?
Dave Simpson can be reached at: DaveSimpson145@hotmail.com
