Rough Stone Rolling

The greatest gift I ever received for Christmas was not the child-like wonder of the season or the sloppy glob of an arts n’ crafts project from a sweet, adoring kid. It wasn’t an unexpected visit from friends who thought surprising us with carols and a few cookies on a paper snowflake plate would compensate for failure to deliver on, say, an Amazon gift certificate or a Honeybaked ham. And it wasn’t getting that call on Christmas morning to hear that Uncle Mel made it through his operation. No, the greatest gift is something beyond all that– beyond description, really. Well, that’s not true. The greatest gift can be summed up in two words:

TiVo HD.

My ever-increasing reliance on my TiVo can be counted, not as a surrendering of agency or a festering temporal addiction, but as a redemption in time waste management and the raw elysian joy of 1080p . No more commercials, no more pre-empting life experiences because something good happens to be on TV. Now I can program to record a show– heck, a whole season of a show– even if it airs different days & times on different weeks (as networks are wont to do)– in something like 3 clicks. I can scan through the slow parts, or those obnoxious moments of a musical where they reprise a song you hated the first time. It solves programming conflicts (record two shows while you’re watching a third) and will capture both entire sessions of general conference, the whole “The Mormons” documentary and “Goin’ Coconuts” (starring those incorrigible Osmonds) without ever having to switch tapes. You can actually freeze a live show to go to the bathroom. No, seriously.

Who are these children coming down, coming down?

Consider the social ramifications. To be able to have an intelligent conversation at the water cooler (actually, we don’t have a water cooler– there’s a gizmo in the office kitchen that dispenses “reverse osmosis” water. I know, scary, right?) or ward foyer about “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles,” “Ice Road Truckers” or “American Idol.” To sit together as a family unit every night because no one wants to watch any of those other TVs in the house. And all that material to incorporate in church lessons. And as Jack Ryan listened to the still, small voice to know Captain Ramius was defecting, we should all be sensitive to the promptings of the maverick Russian sub commanders in our lives…

Okay, this is bad. I am typing this while my computer– which has its own DirecTV box attached– has American Idol minimized. I’m waiting for the commercials to pass.

Of course this wasn’t the greatest Christmas gift I ever got (psyche). I’m too sentimental to be that bourgeois. But it is pretty great. And, yes, I’m a tad embarrassed because I really am gushy when I talk about it to others. That, the HDTV and the Netflix. But, hey, it inspired me to start saving for my next home investment, something more responsible, geared towards the safety of my family and in concordance with the prophet’s admonitions.

A generator in case of emergency.