My TV Is Smarter Than Your Honor Student

By Lisa

I recently converted to a smartphone, only to find out that I needed a smart TV.

D’oh!

If you recall, I wrote a few years ago about my love affair with my big TV, which at forty-two inches, took up my entire living room.

Not that I was complaining.

I loved its gargantuan screen, which made footballs look as big as watermelons and bachelorettes’ heads the size of hot-air balloons.

Maybe because their heads were full of hot air.

But now my big TV looks tiny, since now there are forty-seven inches, fifty-four inches, and even larger TVs, at a fraction of the price that mine cost.

Yet I remained loyal to my big TV.

I want one marriage that lasts.

I hadn’t even heard of such a thing as a smart TV until somebody mentioned it to me, and I thought they were kidding, then when my other TV died, I replaced it with a smart TV.

I admit, I don’t even know what that meant when I bought it. All I knew was that the price was right, and that they weren’t charging extra for its brainpower.

So I got it home and right off the bat, I knew my new TV was smarter than I am because I couldn’t even understand its remote control. It’s black, and in the center is a little cube called the Smart Cube.

I’m not making this up.

All I’m doing is telling you what my TV tells me to.

If I press the Smart Cube, onto the screen pops something called the Smart Hub.

We get it.

My TV is smart, not humble.

I looked at the array of buttons on the Smart Hub, astounded. They were buttons I’d never seen before on a television, like Shop TV.

Wow.

It’s not a television, it’s a store.

I didn’t push the Shop TV button, for obvious reasons. If I start buying things from my TV, my new address will be the poorhouse.

Which would not be Smart.

Then there’s a button called Social TV, which I gather is for any parties my TV wants to attend or clubs it wants to join.

Like Mensa.

There is even a button for Fitness, which I fully intend to avoid, again for obvious reasons. I pressed it just to let you know what it says, and it contains something called Cardio Blast and Sexy Beach Abs.

Luckily I don’t need either of these things.

My cardio is already blasted.

And I avoid sexy beaches.

Then there’s a button called Schedule Manager, which sounded kind of controlling, but I checked it out. Immediately, a black box popped onto the screen which read, Set the current time and date first.

I found this tone so bossy, I opted out.

Not only that, I couldn’t figure out how to do it.

If this TV is so damn smart, why doesn’t it know the time and date?

I do.

So do you.

We rock!

There’s even a button for a Web Browser, which I pushed and discovered that I could actually go on the computer from my television.

Incredible.

So my new TV is a store, a gym, a secretary, and a computer.

There’s only one thing it isn’t:

A book.

So it’s not that smart, after all.