You remember the book, by Ray Bradbury, with the unforgettable title ‘Fahrenheit 451’ referring to the temperature at which books combust (never mind the fact that it’s actually 450 degrees Celsius), in which the characters sit in front of floor-to-ceiling screens covering all four walls (our hero’s wife only had 3 walls, a fact she was most unhappy about)?
I think of that book whenever I see monster flat screen TVs, and I think how we’re getting closer and closer to that strange vision, my kids likely living it when they grow up.
I have taken a step closer to this science fiction dystopia and bought my first flat screen TV ever!
Instead of viewing it with the proper amount of horror and quickly swiveling away from it on my creaky wooden chair, lighting a candle and bending over a sufficiently worn leather bound Rob Roy, adjusting my spectacles and scratching my unwashed woolens just under the back of the knee, I feel fulfilled.
Fulfilled is the wrong word, and in a tiny tiny sense still right because I made myself wait for this moment. I’ve wanted this particular TV for several years now, even back in the States, I was obsessive about going to the TV section of the store and looking at the latest price for Bravias. In the States though, we had a TV, and it was good enough for our needs, and we had kids with grubby hands and lips touching it on a constant basis. Now that we’re here, and re-accumulating, and getting ready to move out to our own place, well, how could we possibly without a telly?
The post is titled 432 because we haven’t quite got to 451, and the television is a whopping 32 incher. I honestly didn’t think we needed anything bigger than 26, but there’s hardly any of them around second hand. I think they get put in the bedrooms as the front room TV gets bigger and bigger. This one I got off a Canadian CG programmer who was going back to Canada. Practically brand new for less than half what he paid. Gumtree.