Redefining the definition of High Definition

I'm a bit of a techaholic. I like to get new electronic toys as often as I can and I'll even go without other frivolous purchases like vacations and food in favour of a new laptop or iPod. So when friends come over to my place, they always have a hard time understanding why I still squint to see my 19" Costco Durabrand TV sitting in the corner collecting dust.

I'll admit it - the thing is UGLY. The screen is bowed like the side of a beach ball and, while it has RCA inputs, it will only accept video and mono-audio. Where there would normally be colour-coded jacks for left and right audio channels... I have a solitary gray one that simply says: "audio in."

Now I've heard the excuses from other telecapped people like myself. They most often orbit around the self-righteous contention that they don't watch enough TV to warrant buying a nice one. I'm not like them. I watch a lot of fucking TV. Even if I'm not actually watching TV, it's still on CNN in the background like that noisy friend that spews verbal diarrhea ad nauseam just to avoid the silence.

So when I finally realized I could no longer sit a foot away from the TV for 2 hours just to see where the puck was, I began researching a replacement with all the gusto typically reserved for choosing a university, a spouse or an 8-pack of tall-boys at the LCBO.

What I found is this: LCDs will last longer and outperform a plasma, but you'll spend more money on a smaller size. Plasmas, on the other hand, are the class clown of the flat screen market. If you are going for 'wow factor,' get a plasma. Like this new 103" Panasonic that measures 7.9ft across and weighs just under 500 lbs. Sure it costs more than a VW City Golf with spinning rims and a GPS system. And yes, it may take 6 guys and two cases of beer to get it from the store to the 8x10 bachelor's apartment you had to take just to pay for it. But daaaamn, will it ever kick ass for the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy and that home-made porno you put together in Final Cut with spliced-in clips from National Geographic's special on topless Tanzanian matriarchs.

That said, I'm now whittling down my LCD choices and awaiting the holiday bonus that will allow me to preserve some small shred of self-respect when the Future Shop salesman asks if I'm "looking for anything in particular or just browsing." (You asshole. Let the poor man dream.)

So it is decided that, come New Years Day, I will have a spiffy new 32" LCD TV adorning my wall. Keep your eyes on your inbox friends, I'm going to have a TV-warming party where we can all get together and watch my non-HD (but totally stolen) cable and the wonky cam-rip of Borat I downloaded from the Internet in all 32 inches of its vibrantly-oversized glory.