MINDLESS MUSINGS

I can still remember my amazement the first time I hooked up a TV and it tuned itself in automatically. Wow! Such wonderous technology! When I was a kid, we had to tune every single station individually using that fucking spinning dial around the channel knob.

Kneeling on the floor twisting that fucken dial waiting for the static to ease. Are we hitting a station? Close…closer…nup. Twist some more – bingo! That’s one, three more to go and you never know, you just might stumble on SBS for a bonus. Static is clearing; here comes another one. We’ve already got that one! Shit! Have I gone all the way around? Keep twisting.

Have I not hit the sweet spot yet or is the problem with our antenna? Can’t not have Channel 9, the footy starts in an hour. Ah, the antenna adjustment ceremony. The rabbit ears. This one forward that one backward. No good? Switch. Still fuzzy? Okay turn the left one 30 degrees northeast and the right one 5 degrees due south. An infinite array of angles and combinations! Close enough? I’ll just make one tiny twitch to get that crystal clear pic…fuck!

Inevitably someone takes over, as if they have a magical way of wiggling the two extendable metal rods. Might even take a stab at shortening one or the other. This is not an exact science after all. If the antenna is removeable the fun has only just begun. Put in on the floor. Balance it on a nearby pot plant. Can it reach the window?

Pity the poor soul who gets a clear picture while holding the antenna in a strange position. “That’s it! Hold it there!” Now the helper must stand holding some twisted posture like a fucken contortionist. What a team player!

If you have one of those T-shaped antennas, the best you can do is twist it in a circle before you must start the quest for the ideal location in the room. That include the full three dimensions remember. If the choice spot happens to be 27.5cm from the ceiling, 1.56 metres in from the left window, best you start figuring out how you’re going to keep it there.

There were plenty of gizmos marketed as ‘the new and easy indoor antenna’ with extra bits of metal, plastic, dials and switches. Bet your ass that after you have finished twisting knobs and re-positioning pieces of metal you would soon be traipsing around the room again.

Now imagine the same scenario playing out with some poor doofus standing on the roof. A good roof antenna was always the best option, but nothing is foolproof. The reliability and better reception had the downside of any need to adjust the antenna being a hazard to someone’s health. It invariably happened at the worst possible time; halfway through someone’s favourite show or just before the start of the grand final. Bugger!!!

So many jokes about the unfortunate good Samaritan who accepted the challenge and ended up on the roof for the duration, holding some ludicrous pose to keep the perfect picture on the TV. People yelling out the window to “keep it there!”. Shouting instructions after the slightest twitch on the screen.

I had heard tales about these mythical contraptions called satellite dishes, but I have no memory of ever seeing one in the real world. I saw them on TV (ironically) in the houses of rich people and of course in US shows. Man, those Yanks had all the cool stuff: satellite dishes, cable television, remote controls. Holy shit!!!

In my day, if you wanted to change the channel, adjust the volume or make any alterations whatsoever, you had to get your ass up and walk over to the box. The first remote control I can recall was attached to a VCR by a cord and we were most impressed even though it didn’t reach very far; you had to be on the seat closest to the telly or sit on the floor, but hey, you didn’t have to move from that spot. Unless you wanted to change the volume or anything TV related. It basically only operated the VCR play functions. It was a huge leap forward to us okay!

How the hell could a remote control turn that clunky knob anyway? We had to wait until the digital revolution – push button controls! What’ll they think of next? No more clunking the channel knob, no more twisting that bloody dial for tuning. Two buttons: arrow up and arrow down; just press and wait…and wait a little more. I think we’ve almost hit one…nope. Keep holding…here we go. That’s channel 7 again! Have you gone all the way around?

With this kind of high-tech foundation, it was not long before the infrared remote revolution! The one you had to ensure was pointing directly at the little sensor on the TV or VCR. If you were off target, you would lose all remote-control usage credibility and be replaced. Your only hope of avoiding a dishonourable discharge would be flat batteries.

I remember my mates place, many years later, that had become the unofficial pot smoking destination for the suburb. There was an old broom handle with ‘remote control’ written on it in Texta. It could reach the TV buttons perfectly from the pole position couch. It was used exactly like its namesake. “Where’s the remote?” someone would call and the bastard always had a knack of falling or rolling out of sight or reach. Although it rarely ended up in the gaps between couch cushions.

Speaking of innovation on the cheap; let us finish with a tribute to the antenna replacement in a pinch: the wire coat hanger. Like most temporary fixes it very often became permanent.