Friday, October 30, 2009

Dawn of the Blue Laser

By James Pynn

I'm a simple man -- simple pleasures, some would even say I may be simple-minded. Humbug. I recently went to my local video store. I guess I should say my local "DVD" store, but old habits die hard. The double-time march of technology moves so quickly it's hard keep pace. In fact, I only recently have finished converting all my music tapes with CDs. And it only took me 10 years to do it.

Enter the iPod and my new slow-paced scramble to load my CD collection. The problem is, which one do I use? The Touch? The Nano? The Mosquito? I think a waiting strategy is in order. By the time I have the cash to buy one, the newest one will be on the market. But I digress.

While I was perusing the shelves for something to rent for the long weekend, I couldn't help but notice the 60-inch HDTV playing a Disney cartoon. It was hard to turn my head away from it as it dealt with talking animals. I was so mesmerized I forgot why I was there. I forgot my name, the time, even where I lived. The Technicolor brilliance of the images moving on the screen had me thoroughly enthralled. Then, faintly -- in the distance -- I heard honking.

When my wife swept into the store some time later, she shook me by the shoulders screaming, "What's wrong with you? You've been standing there for ten minutes -- didn't you hear me honking?" I brushed her aside and noticed the Blu-Ray player bolted underneath the screen. It was a revelation. I started blinking again and cleared my vision to see the shelves directly in front of me were filled with Blu-Ray discs.

The remainder of the night was spent tossing my VHS collection and unplugging my video cassette player. I had rented a stack of brilliant new DVDs and was eager to get my new Blu-Ray player up and running. Covered in eager sweat, I finally settled down to watch my first rental around 10 o'clock. But something struck me -- where did my wife go?

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