You know what they say: “Deaths always happen in threes.” So it was, recently with three of my longtime audio-video pals. I said goodbye to my compact disc recorder, my DVD recorder, and my cassette player. Cause of death? A combination of outdated parts, and dirty, scratched heads. Sure, I could send them off to some mysterious repair service to be patched and cleaned, but at what cost? As every customer service rep is trained to say, occasionally in English, “It would be cheaper to just buy a new one. And I have a deal for you!”
So, I removed the only parts with any value (the remote control batteries), and thanked my old machines for their service. To be fair, they had high mileage. I started recording music on CDs before it became easier to do on a computer, and I’m still in the midst of a decades-long project to convert my old VHS tapes to DVD, many of which you can see on my “Chattanooga Radio TV” YouTube channel.
I shopped online for replacement devices, found some good buys, and I’m thrilled with the results. My new machines work, for now, anyway. But now comes the messy part.
While disconnecting and reconnecting all the wires and cables that go into the receivers and TV sets, I found myself with a few extras. Some came boxed with the new machines, and some of the older ones can best be described as “Outdated and Useless,” which is a potential title for my autobiography.
As I was throwing these artifacts into an old box that my children will someday open and immediately discard, I realized I may be the reason Radio Shack went out of business. I have most of their inventory.
While rewiring behind the TV set, I found a huge plug, tying up two spaces on my already overcrowded power outlet strip. You know, the one that investigators often refer to as, “cause of fire.”
After tracing its cord through a curled, twisted jungle, I realized it had been connected to absolutely nothing since Frankie Valli was a freshman Four Season. Just like many elderly members of Congress, it had been there for decades, no one paid attention to it, and it didn’t really do anything, so it just stayed there. I thought of all the times I had needed an extra outlet. Of course, I will not throw it away, because surely I own a device that needs it. Something valuable, like an 8-track player.
Actually, a few of those old wires and cables have come in handy on occasion. I have a 90-year-old friend down the street. He’s still a proud VCR owner, and he thinks I’m a genius because I know where all those cables are supposed to go. My reputation will remain intact as long as my repairs are limited to his TV/VCR connections. If he ever needs me to fix his sink or his car, he will be sorely disappointed.
My cord collection ranges from the standard RCA AV cables (good) to the 21st century HDMI (better). I’ve learned that the off-brand five-dollar cables deliver the same colorful picture that the big-name fifty-dollar ones do. I have all sorts of male to female extensions, male to male adapters, female to female couplers, and other controversial combinations.
I have charging cables for cell phones like the kids used on “Saved By The Bell.” I have those wide-mouth computer cables that Bill Gates phased out about ten Windows ago. I have headphone jack adapters from an era in which a “pod” was where a pea resided. If any of these products ever make a comeback, I’m ready. In fact, if I connected all of my cords, cables and wire, and aimed them toward the White House, they would generate enough static electricity to make President Trump’s hair stand on end.
Now that I’ve replaced my dilapidated old machines with smooth-humming new models, what will I do with all of these old connection cables? I hear there’s still a Radio Shack in Sevierville, Tennessee. I have just what they need, and I will make them a sweet deal.
