Have you ever felt the lust for power, the need for control, or the desire to influence? Do you understand the ability to change your world with the single push of a button? Have you ever known the cool confidence of authority weighing in your palm? If so, you can relate to its loss. Tonight the remote control went missing.
There are two types of people in this world, those who are allowed to touch the remote control and those who are not. In my house the remote control is an over complicated piece of equipment. It is that way for a reason. It’s purpose is to discourage the faint of heart, people who are frightened of more than half a dozen buttons in their hand. These people understand on, off, volume and channel. They have no business with the remote control. The remote control is not a simple clicker; it has the ability to alter the media experience to the minutest detail. Subtitles, pause, zoom, angle, mute, sleep, picture in picture, and all with moving hardly a muscle.
My remote control can weild its force over the functions of seven pieces of electronic equipment. It is roughly the size of my forearm, has close to four hundred buttons, is a stlyish silver and has a backlight. This means I can watch TV, play movies, listen to music, operate the blender, close the blinds and orchestrate the comings and goings of small nations, even with the lights off. This is real power. This sort of power should never be lost.
Unlike losing other precious things, such as your offspring, remote controls cannot call for help. They sit and wait under the couch, with the laundry, in the freezer or on top of the toaster oven as you lumber through the house in dismay. Calling to the remote will do you little good. You must remember were you left the power.
You turn the house upside down but to no avail. You know that you can watch your movie without the remote, but the idea sends you into cold sweats. You can walk to the store, but then why do you own a car. You can light a fire to cook, but then what is the oven for? I would rather spend forty-five minutes of utter chaos, tearing the house apart looking for the remote, then a combined total of two minutes over the lenght of the movie to make adjustments to the TV or DVD player by hand. If you don't understand this, you never will. Power corupts, and absolute power is even cooler.
Once the remote is found, life can return to normal. You seem to smile, as your hands are wrapped tightly around your battery-powered security blanket. You can now relax. Once again fate has smiled on you and all is right in the world. It’s nothing abnormal, it’s happening in millions of living rooms across the nation. It’s just yet another power grab.