Hi, Definition!

It’s all my parents’ fault. I was perfectly happy with regular old TV until they went out and got an HDTV. At home for Christmas, I watched a football game that was so vivid I got sacked three times and left in the third quarter with a right knee sprain. At that point I realized that my formerly nice TV was really a big piece of junk. Actually, compared to their TV, it was a small piece of junk.

I tried to talk myself out of buying an HDTV, but the rational side of my brain was overruled by the larger, dominant part that governs TV purchases. “We must have the precious!” a voice would hiss as I thumbed through the Best Buy flyer. “They don’t wants us to have the the HDTV because they hates us! They wants the precious for themselves!” Incidentally, my internal monologue always sounds like Gollum, not just when I’m thinking about something precious. I know, trust me, it’s annoying.

There was one roadblock on the highway to high-definition. As a general rule, girls don’t take as much interest in expensive electronic toys as guys do. When I wrote for a home electronics magazine, I visited a house where a beautiful 50-inch plasma screen was hidden inside an antique cabinet because the guy’s wife thought it ruined her country decor. I guess this is why I’m not an interior decorator, because I think a plasma TV goes with any room’s decor, including bathrooms, garages and naves. My girlfriend, Heather, was less-than-enthused about the HDTV pursuit on financial, not aesthetic, grounds. She seemed to think there were better things to spend money on, like food and electricity. (Women!) When she raised that issue, I went to the Burke Defense, which was made possible by my friend Burke’s purchase of a ski boat last summer. The Burke Defense states that no matter what silly thing you want to buy, it’s not as ridiculous as Burke’s ski boat, right? There’s also a subtext of, “Don’t give me crap about this, or I just might buy a ski boat too. After all, Burke did.” Burke’s ski boat goes 50 mph and is powered entirely by his girlfriend’s disapproval.

Still, I need justification for this outrageous purchase, so I call my mom. If enabling were an Olympic sport, my mom would make Michael Phelps look like that guy they always show wiping out on the ski jump. When I tell her I’m considering buying an HDTV but can’t really justify it, she says, “Go ahead and do it! Hey, you could get hit by a bus tomorrow.” That’s right. And as the tire was squishing my head, I’m sure my last thought would be, “I could’ve had more pixels!”

I head to Best Buy one night after work to do “research”—you know, just get a feel for prices, not actually buy anything. Of course, this questionable game plan is the reason guys end up driving home from car dealerships in orange Pontiac Aztecs with $500 floormats muttering, “What just happened?” I pace the aisles several times considering the crucial question—bigger projection screen or smaller flat-panel?—before I look at my watch and discover that an hour and a half has gone by. I’ve been lulled into a trance by the blazing screens. Eventually I pick the cheapest 30-inch flat-panel model and pull the trigger.

But in this game of TV Russian roulette, Best Buy’s chamber comes up empty. I inquire on the next three lowest-priced models, just for the hell of it. They don’t have any. Am I in the Cambridgeside Galleria or Best Buy Havana? I’m here to tell you that every article you read about the holiday retail season being soft last year was probably written by a guy sitting in front of his new LCD TV and listening to a satellite radio (they were all out of those too).

It’s back to the drawing board. When I get home, I search eBay, but I’m a little sketched out by the eBay TV-shopping experience. For one thing, most of the sets are brands I’ve never heard of, like “ScreenVision” or “Breakssoon.” Second, most of the merchandise is described as “factory reconditioned.” Third, the stores tend to be places you’ve never heard of on the West coast that charge exorbitant shipping fees. So by the time your factory-reconditioned ScreenVision is shipped from Lenny’s Internet Store in Big Sur via 10-day ground, you may as well have just sucked it up and gone to Tweeter.

Which is what I end up doing.

Heather eventually resigns herself to the inevitability of the HDTV. Perhaps she realizes there’s no stopping me with logic. Perhaps she realizes that she buys stuff that doesn’t make any sense either, like throw pillows (pillows that are not to be used as pillows because the decorative sequins would abrade your face right off). I consider this my own decorative bauble, a 32-inch high-definition LCD version of a throw pillow. It’s a throw-TV. I threw it on the wall. Then I threw myself on the couch, and things have been great ever since.

My TV’s name is Philips, but I call him Dr. Phil because he’s so soothing. When I get home and put my feet up on the coffee table, Dr. Phil is ready with a high-definition PBS special about ancient Egyptians and their fascination with the lotus flower. I frequently find myself watching PBS and Discovery Channel documentaries these days just because they tend to include lots of pretty colors. As a side effect, I’m learning about Antarctica and dinosaurs without even trying. I can feel my brain getting smarter by the hour. I can’t prove it, but I’ll bet Ken Jennings has an HDTV. Don’t know who Ken Jennings is? You need to watch more TV, my friend.

Another hook of the phatty TV is that it gives my friends a reason to visit. Now that I live in Southie, getting people to come over to my apartment is harder than it used to be—you’d think I was Ernest Shackleton inviting my buddies on a ski trip. Their first question is inevitably “Where’s the nearest T stop?” at which point I reply, “There are many fine Ford Crown Victoria automobiles that will take you directly to my doorstep for a small fee. They’re generally yellow. Seek one out.” Nobody wants to take a cab. Guys who think nothing of buying a $40 round of drinks at a bar act like taking a $10 cab ride is an unforgivable extravagance on par with commissioning a vodka-peeing ice cherub to celebrate Flag Day. However, mention that you’ve bought an HDTV and you’ll barely have gotten to the “V” when there’ll be a knock at your door. It’ll be your childhood friend Jeffy who moved to Albuquerque when you were 7, standing there with a six-pack and inquiring if the pregame show is over yet. I imagine that about 40 years ago some guy who lived in my apartment bought a color TV and all of a sudden got in much better touch with his friends. Until Whitey stole the TV. And beat up his friends.

Now that I’ve satisfied my jones for an HDTV, I’m planning the Super Bowl party to end all Super Bowl parties. But after that, I’m worried that my 720 lines of widescreen resolution will run into the same problem I had with my old TV: There’s nothing on.