Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Death Ray, Part 2

          Well, it finally happened.  Our gigantic 90s Big Screen TV died.  We knew we were living on borrowed time, but kept hoping it would last forever.  Not so.  The 60-inch behemoth finally bit the dust.
          St. Bob dutifully forced himself to go Flat Screen Shopping, which is akin to my being forced to try out a fantastic new restaurant.  Since I have little interest in tweeters, woofers, and other things electronic, I let him make the day of it and soon he was back with a much smaller television and a much crisper image. 
          Not among those mourning the loss of our gigantic old TV was our son, Richie.  You may recall that he’s been waiting for this moment like a cat with a mini-cam on a bird’s nest, eagerly anticipating the first crack in an egg.
          Richie, you remember, wants to make a death ray out of it.  You can read about this insane idea here, which he got from an equally worrisome physicist on the internet.  So it doesn’t take long for Richie to come over and break open the dead TV to remove the filet—a sheet of plastic that magnifies the sun’s rays enough to roast a weenie or anything else in its path.  Here are some lenses he will no doubt repurpose into something explosive
          And here he is with the prized sheet of plastic which will stir envy among all his peers

          And here he is tilting that very plastic to show how one can fry a lawn if fried lawn is your thing.

          I, of course, turned the former TV alcove into a cozy home office with a little wallpaper, some lamps, and a desk stolen out from under St. Bob in another room.
         But best of all, is what I plan to do with the shell of the TV.  Tell me this would not make a PERFECT puppet theatre for my future grandkids!  Some red velvet curtains, some puppets, and away we go!  I can’t wait. 
            Bob thinks this is entirely ridiculous since we have no grandkids and no rumors of grandkids (more ridiculous than a death ray?  I think not) so I’m storing it in the garage.  Next to the baby crib I got last month.  Hope blooms eternal.

You cannot go through life without hope.  Although you can survive quite nicely without a death ray.  And my hope is that you’ll buy my novels, Jungle, Pinholes Into Heaven, and Sisters in the Mix. They are waaay cheaper than a flat screen TV, and you can find them on Kindle and in hard copies at Createspace.  Just saying.


  1. Ha ha! You're lucky that St. Bob lets you store all that stuff! Your office space turned out so pretty!

  2. That's why he gets the Saint status-- ha ha! Glad you like the office nook. Amazing how much room there was, once that TV was moved out!