The Tyranny of the Remote Control

I can hardly remember television without a remote control. The only recollections I have are of a big circular metal knob. In between each channel as you turned it was a white noise blast mixed with a distinct clink.

I remember getting cable for the first time and HBO being the gateway for all things not allowed. MTV had real v-jays and not much else – song after song after song followed by a multi-colored astronaut dancing around with a flag. I think somewhere around that viewing option shift I lost sight of the stationary knob. Since then the remote control has lived in my home. I say lived because they seem to have a life of their own.

If I set the remote on the coffee table, it ends up in the kitchen. I place it on the end table and it wakes up under the sofa cushion. Almost without fail wherever he is put he resigns his position and relocates. I’ve checked the remote for any sign of locomotive ability and have come up empty and the family all suffer from amnesia when asked about his GPS.

He also refuses to keep his back. Not only will he move, dance, hide and slide but the cover plate for his batteries disappears too. I think it’s a remote control oath: Within the first week of your new home, ditch the back cover. With it gone we can have fun placing tape over the now loose batteries and giggle and wiggle the metal contacts. The maddening hassle ups the entertainment value.

I thought that the Houdini remote syndrome would be settled when someone bought me a remote control holder caddy. It’s quite nice and can hold six to eight remotes at once. I’m not sure how we acquired all the remotes we have. They seem to multiply at will for their number far exceeds the EDR (electronic device ratio).

I’ve also discovered that the caddy only works if the remotes are put in it. They seem to do well when put to rest there rather than in a foreign location. Somehow the company of other controllers quenches their desire to move.

So, like it or not, the remote control has integrated my viewing regimen. As I’m writing this I’ve noticed that one of my televisions doesn’t even have a way to advance through the fancy electronics and settings without the remote! So if that remote erroneously migrates to a new valley or is kidnapped by another television company’s replacement, I’m fried. Of course there are the generic adoptive friends you can pick up at Wal-Mart to replace the defectors and damaged victims but I’ve never liked the un-coolness of having a nonspecific remote. The tyranny continues.