The Remote

There are times when I feel imprisoned - by rules and regulations, the expectations of others, unsatisfying but required demands on my time, even by goals I have set for myself during one of those occasions of unreasonable optimism. We've all "been there," to use the current argot, haven't we?

I've worked on recognizing the symptoms early, and when I feel an attack around the corner, I head for the room where the television is allowed to exist and pick up the remote control.

Well, not the remote control. ALL THE REMOTE CONTROLS....the one for the satellite dish which also controls some but not all of the functions of the VCR and none of the controls of the DVD player. Let's see, I am now holding three remote controls...what have I forgotten?

Oh, the remote control for the home theatre audio receiver, without which none of the other machines can generate sound. I sit in the Media Command Center, with the La-Z-Boy's leg lifter fully deployed for intergalactic travel with a remote on each chair arm, and the two key modules in my lap for instant access in case of unwanted contact with commercials, program promos, station breaks, and other electronic debris which impede my sense of electron dominance. My heaven, how I love those clickers!

As if the remotes weren't enough, the television has multiple inputs which must be properly chosen, and the set itself must be set on channel 3, but I these are the last things I check before every Media Launch.

Pick up the satellite remote, make sure the satellite system is on, then press the tv selector and the on button to turn on the tv. Then press the satellite button in order to change channels for Hawaiian Music, old quiz shows, pay per view, world cup soccer,news from almost too many place, and movies from places like Home Box Office and its ilk.

Once everything is fully deployed, I can feel the wind blowing through my follicular remnants as I achieve complete command of my system at Warp Speed, tearing through the world of electrons, truly the King of My World.

Need to tape something....find a blank tape from the pile of unlabelled tapes, jam it in the machine, click more buttons on the satellite remote to set up the auto timing device. Ah-hah, victory is mine...unless I taped over that really fascinating BBC documentary on the Estonians who won the Eurovision Song Contest last year (true!). Well, it will be on again...just check the monthly satellite program guide which is the size of the Grand Forks, North Dakota telephone book.

So you can see why I am The Captain of the Remotes in my house, and here's the best part: Nobody, repeat nobody - except perhaps for any 10 year old boy - can decipher my system! Only I can manage this complex community of electrons. "Well, Jim, me hearty, whadya think about that?" I imagine myself saying in the voice of Robert Newton as Long John Silver in a long ago British film of "Treasure Island."

As these feelings of power rush through me, I know that the home theatre remote can learn from all the other remotes (allegedly), but I am too busy managing My World of Entertainment to take the time. There are places to go, people to see, and besides, I would have to Read the Manuals, and when you're in charge, you just don't have The Time. It's part of the challenge of being in charge of something, anything.

A rainy day perhaps, when exploring fills me with ennui or even gas. Until then, I will juggle my remotes cleverly, creatively, and carefully, heh-heh-heh.

But I must be quiet about all this....part of the Guys' Oath for Remote Control Commanders, or she won't let me clean out the garage.

Jim, boy, be still, and maybe we can crank up the barbecue grill soon....