The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

We just bought a Vizio 43 inch Smart TV. If you’re like my other layabout pals, you’re asking why in the name of digital technology did I buy a television so small. And the answer is because the mizzus will not, no way, allow a drive-in theater size screen to dominate the livingroom and probably our lives. The new set replaces the 34 inch one, a compromise that may or may not save a marriage, but hopefully that answers my cronies’ question. The other question they all asked was where in holy hell did I even find one that small. And in full disclosure I did have trouble locating any that were smaller than the 55 inchers on display at three or four outlets I searched before going online.

But I digress. Forget the size, forget the internet search, forget about my friends with their high def giant screens capable no doubt of streaming I-Max. My issue is trying to set my Lilliputian TV up. I took photos of the old cables on the teensy weensy old telly just in case. In case of what, I’m not sure, just in case. The gizmo remote that came with the TV had icons for Netflix, Prime, Crackle, weird channels I will never watch, but evidently Vizio makes money on including them. Once I plugged the thing in, up popped a voice that declared I was good to go on setting up my entertainment world and then prompted me to answer if I minded that Google monitored my viewing habits. For better service. For the good of my entertainment potential. I said I would prefer not to have better service. This resulted in a long admonition that my decision would prove that to be true. Might even instigate some sort of retaliatory programming.

When I got past the veiled threats, I encountered the need for passwords into our Netflix account. So … this required waiting for the mizzus, my tech wizard, to get home. Jump forward with me. We now have two heads better than one dumb one working to set up our smart TV. Having gotten past the password roadblock, we were assaulted by a very loud, very rapidly talking ethereal voice that gave utterance to every keystroke and instruction, repeating when we hesitated. An internet search of how to turn off Little Miss Obnoxious determined that we needed to go to MENU, then …. Our remote has no MENU. Meaning, a great deal of the set-up isn’t really possible without that. Why we have a diminutive remote, god only knows. And possibly the internet seller.

I have ordered the appropriate remote, again online, and in a few days should have it delivered. Meanwhile, once again, if I needed to be reminded, it is obvious I live in the wrong century. If we had a six year old handy, no doubt in my mind at all, the little wizard would have figured out, even with a remote missing icons and functions, how to set up this stupid smart TV. But it’s a little late in the game for us to think seriously of child rearing at our age. Maybe adoption if the coming remote is beyond our skill levels….

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