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DIY Big Screen Telly

Posted on October 14, 2009April 10, 2014

I am constantly poking Mrs 6000 in the direction of a big screen telly, but she remains disinterested. That’s because Mrs 6000 doesn’t actually watch a lot of television. She only watches on Friday evenings because there’s some god-awful American programme with a plethora of bimbos throwing themselves at a bloke from Watford.

But I digress. The reason that is what is watched in our household on Friday evenings because there is no footy on. Which brings me to the second reason that Mrs 6k is against the big screen telly idea – that I would end up watching more sport.
This is an utterly ridiculous suggestion. I couldn’t possibly watch more sport than I do now. Unless they start regularly screening football matches on Friday evenings, of course. But if the payoff for a smart new TV was a continuation of Friday nights being crap American telly, even when Brentford v Swansea is on 203, then that’s fine by me.

And then there’s the money. Red wine is an expensive business and when you’ve got to bring up two kids on top of that – well, you can see that there’s not going to be much to spare. And then you have to buy them food as well. And pay for electricity, which is going up again next week/month/year/all of the above. It never ends.
(Incidentally, a big screen telly is pretty power hungry, but I’d be willing to limit the amount of time it was on by switching it off on Friday evenings.)

Of course, there’s actually nothing wrong with the telly we have at the moment. It’s just not very big. And no matter what they say, size is important.

Step forward Brian Micklethwait:

If I want a big screen telly, I move my small screen telly nearer.

Which sounds fine in principle, but it would be a little hypocritical of me to do that, since the kids aren’t allowed close to the TV screen and are constantly being chastised for it, drawn in by the gravitational spell of CBeebies (and not just Sarah-Jane Honeywell, like their dad).

So that leaves only one option, then. Shrink the furniture.

The importance of twitter explained

Posted on June 15, 2009

A common complaint of Twitter users is the assumptions made about Twitter and Twitter users by non-Twitter users.

Twitter does have many different uses depending on what you want to get out of it, whether it is organising get-togethers, discussing or seeking solutions to technical problems, sharing photos and news stories in real time, promoting your blog (apparently, anyway) or business. It isn’t just a little chat service for nerds and geeks. Although, of course, it can do that too if you want it to.

So, before you step forward and slate what you don’t know or don’t understand, try looking at it using Brian Micklethwait’s criteria:

I’ve said it many times before, but it will bear constant repetition. When some new technique of communication is invented or stumbled upon, you should not judge its impact by picking ten uses of it at random, averaging them all out, and saying: Well that’s a load of trivial crap, isn’t it?!? How will “I am just about to make another slice of toast” change the world? The question to ask is: Of all the thousands of uses already being made of this thing, which one is the most significant? And then: Well, is that very significant? If yes, at all, then forget about the toast nonsense.
And the other thing to point out is that, even if you don’t care about some stranger being about to make some toast, there may well be some other strangers out there who do. For them, such twitterings may be very significant. What if the person about to toast suffers from suicidal depression, and his mere willingness to attempt any household task however trivial is a source of rejoicing to all his friends?

But there will always be the haters: those who can’t or don’t want to understand. Simon Heffer of the Telegraph, for example:

One very good reason why I would not join Facebook or Twitter is that I cannot imagine there is a soul anywhere on earth that I am not in touch with in any case who could care less what I am doing at any moment of the day. I cannot believe that anyone should want to spectate the ordinariness of my existence, for I certainly have no wish to spectate anyone else’s.

But then again, Simon Heffer is described in this month’s British GQ as “a pasty faced Billy Bunter figure with a penchant for college ties”.
David Cameron wrote of him, thus:

“The attitude that he personifies – hatred of the modern world – is not just part of the problem. It is the problem.”

Of course, the simple rule for Simon and his type is: If you don’t like it, don’t do it. And stop whining. Yes, you’re going to hear about it in the newspapers and on the TV, but if it really bothers you that much, then skip those stories and read about the war in Afghanistan or the latest goings-on in the World T20.

Or do you really consider yourself so very important that just because you don’t get it, the rest of us aren’t allowed to either?