Smart, so Smart

From the bedroom came the squawking voice, "Alan... the television isn't working. Help, oh lordy, I'm missing Judge Judy. Quick come fix it!" So I pulled myself away from my Breaking Bad marathon in the living room, and went into the bedroom. Sure enough, the television had gone nuts with lines of static shooting across the screen. It was definitely unwatchable. What was so suspicious was that just the day before, Mark had mentioned that he wanted a new TV for the bedroom, a 'Smart' TV no less. Suddenly, a day later, it was broken. No problem, I thought to myself. For twenty five years people paid me to tear apart computers and fix them. Certainly I could repair this thing. I got out my screwdrivers, and went to work. An hour later I stood Mark's broken television back upright, took it out into the kitchen, opened the back door, and threw it in the garbage can. I guess I lost my touch in the eight years that I've been retired.

One hour after throwing away the old TV and I am pulling a brand new, forty inch, 'Smart' television out of it's box. Like I said, I repaired computers, I set up computers, and I did everything peripheral to those computers for twenty five years. I was actually very good at my job, and I was proud of that. Now eight years of laying around the house had reduced me to a useless blob. Not only couldn't I fix the old television, but the new television kicked my ass. For over two hours I fiddled, configured, plugged in cables, unplugged cables, re-plugged in cables, screamed at it, screamed at Mark, and used up every curse word I could think of. It was just about the time I was screaming at the top of my lungs for Mark to, "Shove that goddamned piece of crap back in the goddamned mother*****ing box before I take a hammer to it!" that everything suddenly came together. A picture appeared on the screen, with sound, and all was well. The only problem is that I have no idea what I did to make the damn thing work.