Should we be forced to have only digital TV?

No

1 of 19

by Genenda Milloy

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When the June 12 conversion from analog to digital TV came along, I was in dread. I had received my converter box months ago, but found it to be rather ineffective. Despite television claims that the government has demanded all broadcasts to be in digital due to its high quality, I found that I got better reception from trusty old analog TV. However, I was resigned to my fate of listening to the radio, at least until my move to the northern part of the state. This resignation did not, however, decrease my hatred for the digital converter box I was now forced to resort to. Following is my experience in the short time since the switchover to digital, which I believe demonstrates the need to return to analog.

Because I was planning to move in the near future, my sleep cycle was far from where it should have been. As a teacher, I had the summer off, and it seemed that I was most motivated to pack late at night. At midnight, the channel I got without the box turned to static, and I finally had to break down and use the converter box. There was nothing on, so I put in a DVD for background noise as I continued to pack. When it ended, I almost went to bed, but thought I would see what was on the two channels I can depend on now- ABC and PBS. ABC had a news anchor whose bright pink lipstick blinded me. When chaperoning a trip to Europe two years ago, we were shocked to see Italian prostitutes sitting on lawn chairs to await their customers. They wore less make-up than this clown of a newswoman. I changed to PBS.

What I found on PBS was not intended to be humorous, but I was intrigued in a "this is so stupid I can't look away" kind of way. For those of you who have ever seen the movie Best in Show, this was the ferret version, except it was a documentary. I like ferrets because they're playful, but these people took their ferrets very seriously. They received plaques for certain awards. The plaques were... unusual. There was a little 3D carving of a ferret in the lower left-hand corner, but in the top, it had what appeared to be a carved pot leaf. Maybe it's the teacher in me, always looking for signs of drug symbols on student clothing, that thought this. Maybe it was meant to be something else. Maybe there is some strange connection between marijuana and ferrets. If anyone knows the meaning of this connection, please inform me. I am dying of curiosity. Well, maybe I'm not that curious.

I don't know if the documentary was intended for entertainment or to inform the audience, but I was filled with suspense. No, I was not eagerly waiting to discover whether Oh, You Cheeky Monkey, Loki Motion, or Obsidian Tears (yes, those were real ferret names on the documentary) would win best in show. My suspense, instead, was related to finding out whether or not the ferrets would survive when their excited owners and breeders received certain awards. Some ferrets were squeezed to the chest. Others were in the owners hands, bearing a striking resemblance to those stress balls a person squeezes when feeling anxiety. I feared a forthcoming ferret fatfality. The documentary ended with a woman singing a song to the tune of "Oh Captain, My Captain" in a voice that is far worse than my own (I was actually help back in high school chorus for my inability to hit the right notes or keep a beat). This song, however, went, "Oh ferret, my ferret, gatherer of stuff..." If you are interested in viewing this video, PBS is selling copies.

After Ferrets ended, a documentary about the history of chickens aired. First was a story about a man who loves roosters. This friend of all roosters drove a car, painted in red and white stripes, with a giant rooster head mounted on the top. If Colonel Sanders ever wanted to create his own version of the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile in the guise of a station wagon, this is what he would drive. The man also kept large numbers of roosters on his country farm. With the roosters crowing at all hours, this man was at peace. He loved the sound of crowing roosters. His neighbors did not agree and waged war (one man read Sun Tzu's The Art of War in preparation) upon the rooster farm. They disliked the noise, and rumors abounded that the roosters were kept, not out of love for the animal, but for cockfighting. If you will pardon my pun, they thought it was fowl. The warmongering neighbors won a lawsuit, and the dejected lover of roosters was forced to abandon his rooster farm, despite his belief that if a person does not like the sound of a rooster crowing, he or she has no business living in the country. One's thoughts late at night can sometimes be a bit odd, so I couldn't help but notice that the rooster lover's wife never appeared on the documentary. Had rooster man loved so many roosters that there was no room left in his life for a woman? Or had he been married, only to discover that his nefarious roosters had attacked, maimed, or killed her?

Next on the chicken documentary was a woman who kept a rooster inside as her pet. Cotton Rooster, as he was lovingly called, went swimming with his eccentric red-haired owner, which was usually followed by a bath and blow dryer. Cotton Rooster fully believes that he is human. He does everything a human would do, except use the toilet. For that, he wears a diaper. He goes grocery shopping with his owner, watches television, and enjoys opera. His favorite opera star if Pavarotti. I could not help but wonder how Cotton Rooster really felt about his owner. Although he sat mildly in Mrs. Rooster's arms in the swimming pool and rode quietly in a basket during excursions to the grocery store, and stood watching the TV when Pavarotti came on, perhaps the reality was that he feared angering his owner, who might cook him for Sunday dinner of he did not feign pleasure at the attentions of this woman with poorly-applied blue eyeshadow.

Next was Liza, a hen who was unable to produce fertile eggs. She was a natural born mother and seemed heartbroken that she did not have any chicks to tend to. She attempted to fill the void by mothering other hens' chicks, but she still appeared empty. Finally, she produced several fertile eggs and naturally took to motherhood. Her babies were her life. One day, the farmer looked out the window and saw all of the chickens rushing to the coop. Not Liza. She realized that her babies were left out in the open as a hawk was flying overhead. Not heeding her instinct for self-preservation, Liza covered the chicks with her body just before the hawk swooped down and attacked the selfless mother. The farmer rushed outside, mourning the loss of this selfless hen. He thought her noble and brave, considering that any human mother who risked her life for her children would make headline news. The farmer approached just as Liza moved. It seemed that the hawk had misjudged Liza's size and barely missed. Liza and her babies were safe. The farmer said he would never look at a chicken the same way again. In fact, he says, "I know that I would be honored to be called chicken." I couldn't help but wonder, if he admired her bravery so much, why didn't he go out sooner to try protecting his beloved Liza? Maybe it's because he was chicken.

Another story touched on Valerie, a chicken who was rescued from some ice. The
owner brought her inside and Valerie was quite comfortable. The story of her rescue spread throughout the community and made people happy in a time when the nation was disgusted by the trial of O.J. Simpson on TV. When Valerie was healed, she was returned to the rest of the hens and immediately told the others how nice it was inside. Yes, she TOLD them. The owner had called an animal communicator to speak with Valerie, so they know this to be fact. The animal communicator also asked her if she saw a white light when she was dying and why she returned. As her owner stated, "Valerie realized she was put on this farm not just to lay eggs but to prove to people that with love and with caring, miracles do happen." And to think I always thought chickens were here for my dinner.

Is this the level of television I will now be forced to suffer through? I admit to finding some humor in the strangeness of the programs, but this was hardly quality television. Television viewing opportunities were limited before, but this is ridiculous. All of the commercials, warning us of the impending change to digital TV, have claimed that digital TV is vastly superior to the former system. I beg to differ. I got a few more channels. Also, when watching digital, if the picture is unclear, everything is scrambled. Before, the picture might be a bit fuzzy, but it was still decipherable. Forcing those of us who cannot afford cable to convert to digital television is unfair. Perhaps other people have had better luck with digital TV. Maybe it depends on the TV. Maybe it depends on the location. Either way, consumers should have a choice, before we are stuck watching ridiculous documentaries about ferret shows and the history of chickens.

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