Humor Columnist

HOMEBESTCOLUMNSHUMORARCHIVESCONTACT
 
 HOME

 COLUMNIST

 BEST

 COLUMNS

 ARCHIVES

 HUMOR 

 EDITOR  INFO

 FIREFLIES

 LONDON 

 EGYPT SERIES

 NEW ENGLAND

 FRIENDS

 LINK TO US

 WEB RINGS

 LINKS

 LINK SWAP

 SUBSCRIBE

 CONTACT

Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the Columnists.com, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
Humorists.com
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

    Follow her on 
Facebook and Twitter.


 

Follow me on Facebook 
Sheila Moss


Create Your Badge
Write on my Wall

   
National Society of
Newspaper Columnists

HumorColumnist.com
Online Since 1999

Big Screen Dream Machine....
 


The Big Screen Dream Machine

My honey has a new toy. Itís the ultimate, all time, masculine, state-of-the-art dream machine Ė a big screen TV

It started when the old TV began to fade and lose the color once in a while. There was really nothing wrong with it. All you needed to do was turn it off and back on and it worked as good as new. It probably had another year of two of life. 

But pushing remote control buttons off and on was too much exercise for my honey. Beside, it was "an excuse" for him to go to the electronics store and check out the new stuff. 

I wouldnít go with him. We didnít need anything from the electronics store as far as I was concerned. We already have so many gadgets that we canít figure out which remote control goes to what.

He came home with that Iíve-been-brainwashed-by-a-salesman look on his face. "How would you like to have a TV that hangs on the wall?"

"NO!" I screamed. I thought that was the end of it. I couldnít understand why he blatantly insisted on going back to the electronic store again. Probably wants to give the salesman the bad news in person, I surmised.

Then IT came. IT was half as big as the house. "Good grief! That wonít even fit through the door!" Not to worry, the delivery guys have a shoehorn and Vaseline to squeeze it though the door, if needed.

As they wheeled it in, the floor buckled and furniture slid to the center of the room. I watched as the cat disappeared. 

Grabbing a toppling lamp and holding to the doorframe to avoid slipping into the void, I gasped, "My gosh! Thatís the biggest TV Iíve ever seen!"

"But, you said that you didnít want the kind that hangs on the wall. This is the other one." 

Male logic, Iíll never understand it.

"I donít suppose you would consider returning it," I asked. I need not have bothered asking.

Honey was in a manís world; testosterone had numbed the brain and he was too busy figuring out the buttons on the new remote control to even hear me. He muttered something about having given away the old one already. Men cover their bases, donít they?

Besides having a screen big enough to make a stadium scoreboard jealous, IT has speakers - lots of speakers, front speakers, rear speakers, rattle the windows speakers, shake the roof speakers, and vibrate your eardrums speakers.

"Where are you going to put all those speakers," I foolishly asked.

"Oh, Iíll just hang them from the wall," he said. Of course, silly me, just hang them from the wall. I envisioned all the ugly holes this was going make in my wall and shuttered.

"I think I have some old speakers up in the attic. Maybe I can hook them up too," he speculated.

"Please, NO!" I threw myself in front of the attic door and threatened bodily harm if he even thought about going upstairs. Any more speakers and the house would explode.

We have now put up shelves behind IT to hold all the mysterious black boxes that came with the package: tuner, speakers, subwoofer, DVD and tape players. We have wires running crisscross to speakers on the walls. I feel as if I have died and gone to e-hell.

Watching IT is like setting on the front row at the movies. My eyes water as a bigger than life police car chases bigger than life bad guys across the screen. Itís a womanís worst nightmare and a manís biggest daydream all in one massive manifestation of media.

I watch the walls buckle and ride the shock waves, holding tightly to my sanity as the curtains shred and wallpaper peels.

"Can you turn off some of the speakers?" I scream.

"Iíll need to go to the electronics store first for more cable."

"Youíd better come back with a cable and nothing else," I shout, as I envision him in a hypnotic trace, seduced by electronic gadgets that force themselves upon him with easy payment plans.

So, my honey owns a big screen TV - and IT owns my honey. Wonder how long it will be before they come out with something bigger and better and IT will become obsolete? 

Not soon enough, Iím sure.


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
 
 



Get the
Humor Columnist Newsletter


Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN  37219
E-Mail

AVAILABLE  NOW


E-Mail
Autographed Copy
$5.00 + $4 shipping



Buy it now!
$5.00 + shipping
E-Mail

      home · best . columns · humor · archives · contact  
    © Copyright 1999-2015 Sheila Moss - All rights reserved - © Template by thetemplatestore.com
The copyright for this website and the material on this website are owned by Sheila Moss.
You may request permission to use the copyrighted materials on this website by writing to Sheila Moss.
Use of these copyrighted materials without written permission may result in legal action against you.