In between frantic pockets of time in which Spectrum staff rush to get articles edited and new stories assigned, truly desperate conversations take form in the offices at 132 Student Union. Usually started by the same select few-you know who you are, C.S. - they range from how fascists need not be inherently evil, to which is the best "Ernest" movie.
Yes, they're that exciting.
Earlier this week, though, someone brought up a question worthy of my contribution: what are the best and worst inventions of all time?
Now I know that our precious time at UB should be used for more than nonsensical "debate" over whether Spam is an invention or merely a creation, but why stop at luncheon meat? (I say it's an invention: it has a patent, doesn't it?)
It got me thinking: how many useless - yet endearingly fun - inventions do I have in my own home? What do I waste - I mean spend - my money on, meanwhile neglecting important bills for things like car insurance and tuition.
As soon as I inventoried my stockpile of gadgets and knick-knacks I came across one I use on an everyday basis. Right there, in front of my own two eyes, my baby: my TiVo.
Now I'd like to preface the exposition of my TiVo by saying I am not a poor, struggling college student. I do not live paycheck to paycheck (good thing), wondering if my next meal will be boxed macaroni and cheese or yesterday's brown, mystery casserole. I live at home, where mommy makes the brown, mystery casserole for me.
I do, however, have plenty of credit card debt, and I don't put that on anyone else but myself. (And Amazon.com, they're terribly convincing with those pop-up ads!)
My Phillips TiVo graces my bedroom like a dartboard graces a bar. A cable box of substantial knowledge and even greater power, it digitally records any television show I tell it to, providing a convenient on-screen guide that also gives brief synopses of early "Cosby Show" episodes and upcoming HBO premiere movies. No videotapes, no annoying programming, no hassle.
Created to allow people to live life away from the television set more than in front of it - assuming they'd otherwise stay home from their son's baseball games and daughter's dance recitals in order not to miss the newest installation of "Friends" or "The E! True Hollywood Story: Ashton and Demi" - it does none of that. If anything, it sets my fat butt down to watch more TV than I ever wanted to. It's created a vicious cycle, that TiVo.
Once you program it to record just one episode of a show - forgive my rampant taste in entertainment - "Dog Eat Dog," you realize that next week's episode will come before you know it, and, "oh darn! I'll be out of the house that night!" You decide to order a "Season Pass." Now, whenever Brooke Burns pops on the screen to push wastes-of-my-time human beings into a pool of frigid water, where they have to claw their way out of gym class cargo netting while blindfolded, it'll be recorded onto my TiVo, ready and waiting to be watched.
Do you see my dilemma? Where do I draw the line of worthwhile entertainment when I have all of TV land at my recordable disposal? Brooke Burns, good. Animal Planet, bad.
It has its winning points, too. I can now follow storylines in my favorite shows with little interruption. Missing that one week of "Six Feet Under" or "The West Wing" is a painful interruption in a continuing storyline. Why follow a show if you can't follow it?
I am to blame, right? Of course I am. This isn't going to be a weighty discussion of whether I should have an automatic television recorder in my bedroom, whether it's worth every penny I paid for it - and continue to pay. It's not even an issue of whether I need it, which I clearly don't.
It's an issue of whether the TiVo should ever have been invented. Certainly, others in the office might have similar thoughts on the product if it were brought up in discussion. Some might say it's a nice toy to have when you can afford such luxuries as time for constant television gazing and endless searches for the next time a skin flick comes on.
Until it comes up, though, I'm keeping my TiVo account paid in full and in round-the-clock recording mode. Brooke Burns and her water games are entertaining for the time being.
Certainly, more politically oriented and world-changing topics could be discussed during Spectrum office downtime, but why start now when we've already established that tin can-formed meat-food is all right and fascism isn't as bad as it's cracked up to be?
Photo: Meredith Forrest Kulwicki
