Chris Johnson

TV broken? Who cares? Football season began, you say? Time for a new TV set!

I’ve written before about how we shouldn’t love football. It’s dangerous. Folks are literally losing their minds. Dumb coaches are running kids around in the heat trying to make men out of them with no regard for these hotter football seasons. It’s not a very intelligent use of our time.

Fortunately, no one’s ever accused me of being too intelligent. Why, if they did, I don’t know that I’d stand for it.

And, I absolutely love football — only as a spectator, of course. I’m not much interested in putting my blazing 12.6-second 40-yard-dash speed to the test with those Bears linebackers chasing me.

It’s too late for me to give up my love of football. It’s like meat. We should give it up. But it is too late for me to give up steak. Steak is bad for me, and football is bad for those who play it, but I’ve gotta have steak and football. I’ll pay for these sins when they come due.

So, I’ve been waiting for months and months for football to return. Sometimes, I’ll even scroll past some old game on ESPN Classic and consider seeing if New Mexico was able to beat Arizona back in 1993 before realizing I probably didn’t even care about that in 1993. But at least it’s football. Basketball and hockey ended way back in June, and I gave up on the Braves when they abandoned their perfectly good stadium for Cobb County, so I don’t even have Major League Baseball anymore.

This past Wednesday, my wife and I were sitting on the sofa and watching “Ozark” on Netflix when the screen went dark. “Ozark” is an extremely dark show anyway, so I figured it might be part of the deal. But no. Unfortunately, this was one night before the Bears and Packers were set to kick off the NFL season. Granted, I have a smaller TV on my screened-in back porch, but now that climate change has turned September into July the Sequel, it’s like having a TV in a sauna.

We’d planned to get a new TV for Christmas. By “we,” I, of course, mean my wife. I don’t replace anything until it blows up — my truck, my heart or my TVs. So, we/she decided we’d go ahead and get a new one.

Television technology, by the way, has come a long way. We saw TVs that were super-high-def, 3 gazillion K, mega-LED and I don’t know what all, but they’re the kind of TVs that when football players collide on the screen, you can feel the hit. You hear the bones crack and little specks of sweat, blood and brain cells fly right out of the screen. My wife wondered if that TV might stain the carpet. I told her it was completely worth it.

Then I saw the price.

“Oh, never mind,” I said. “It’s crap. Besides, you know, the carpet. Gotta protect it.”

We settled on a mere 55-inch, 4K, LED, UHD TV. I don’t know what much of that means beyond “55 inches” and “TV,” but I’m not sure why anyone would pay a thousand more bucks for anything else. I grew up watching those old convex tube televisions, so anything they make today impresses me. My phone screen is better than the most expensive TV my family ever bought.

So, all is well. Football players are crystal clear, and while this TV doesn’t actually spit sweat at you, I have a high-quality sound bar so I can hear the bones cracking. I even have a woofer to provide extra bass when they snap a big one like a femur. Having broken a femur, I can tell you it’s quite the impressive sound, although my break had a lot more treble in the form of my screaming.

Yep, I’m definitely safer watching football than playing it. And I can do it in crystal clear 4K LED. Now, if I could just figure out the new remote, I could watch somebody besides New Mexico. Hmm, this is tricky. Oh well. Go Lobos!

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