For a while now I have lusted after digital cable-the Mighty DC-without really understanding much about it. I didn’t have a clue how it worked, for example, or what it cost. In case you don’t either, here are a few answers: digital cable can be smooshed into a tinier stream than an analog signal (which is what most of us have), meaning the Mighty DC can fit many more channels onto the same-size line. And divided among three roommates, it costs only about $3 more per month. Not everyone can get digital cable, though. If you want it, you first have to call your local cable company and find out if your neighborhood is Mighty-DC-ready. Ours is. That’s because our neighborhood is better than yours.
Of course, I didn’t know any of this until I asked Jesse. He had to explain it three times. (The first two times my mind wandered and I thought about crayons.) All I knew about the Mighty DC was what it meant for our lives: more. Dozens more channels. More movies, more sports, more nature. Seven HBOs. One Bravo. One game show network. Four Cinemaxes. (Cinemi?) A second MTV-the chief object of my lust, FYI-and some Canadian knock-off called MuchMusic. No more moments when nothing is on, ever again. But as it turns out, the Mighty DC is so much more. Too much more.
Even before I brought it up that fateful night, I knew Jesse was the key. If I convinced him, Adam would fold like an origami swan. But both of them had serious reservations. Adam, for starters, wasn’t keen on having to memorize triple-digit channel destinations. (Example: the soap opera network, or “SoapNet,” is Ch. 119.) And he threatened to blackball the whole idea if an upgrade reshuffled our current channel line-up, i.e., if ESPN suddenly moved from channel 28 to channel fill-in-the-blank. That’s what happened to a buddy from St. Louis, Adam said, and he wasn’t going to let it happen to him. Jesse, meanwhile, feared for the sanctity of his intricate videotaping apparatus. Our entertainment piazza features two VCRs, a DVD player, stereo Surround Sound and a push-button tuner; Jesse, the apartment MacGyver, has everything rigged so that he can watch one show while taping up to two others. (He really likes television.) If getting the Mighty DC meant Jesse had to choose between “Ed” and “Dawson’s Creek” on Wednesday nights, well, it just wasn’t worth it.
But when the conversation ended with Jesse offering to visit a DC-enabled friend’s apartment to poke around and get some answers, I knew I had him. A week later, all of my roommates’ concerns were allayed. No channel reshuffle, no videotaping side effects. And Adam would just have to get over his fear of three-digit numbers. Jesse announced that he had scheduled The Appointment. Time Warner Cable was coming to our apartment that Saturday afternoon. To end our lives.
At first, it was like a dream. We added another remote control to our coffee table, bringing our total to five. That was fine with us, because multiple remotes are a symbol of power and virility. There was also a poignant moment early on in which Jesse and I sat side-by-side on our futon, him demonstrating for me all of the Mighty DC’s remarkable features. We laughed and laughed.
Digital cable is so generous that it offers not one but two program ID functions. The first, the junior model, labeled “Info” on the remote, displays the program title and description inside a thin, semi-transparent strip along the bottom of the screen. Simple. Cool. Tidy. But the second-oh baby. The ultradeluxe model. It is so splendid it deserves its own name. I call it Gontopolis.
Gontopolis is an entire program guide, sort of like the scrolling TV Guide Channel. But the TV Guide Channel, as we all know, sucks. Because, inevitably, you click over to the Guide just in time to watch the channel you care about slide off the top of the screen. Then you wait several hours for it to crawl back around again. Gontopolis puts you in control. (The name doesn’t mean anything, by the way, it just sounds large and impressive. Say it aloud in a baritone voice. See?) Press the up and down arrows, and you move through the channel roster. Press the right arrow to find out what’s on an hour from now. Gontopolis doesn’t force you to search by channel, either-you can search alphabetically too. Let’s say you’re jonesing for “Law & Order.” You know that, no matter the hour or the day, a rerun is being broadcast somewhere. But where? Search under “L,” and Gontopolis will take you there. But here’s the most wonderful part: the guide fills only the bottom half of the screen. Gontopolis shrinks the program you are watching and preserves it in the top-right corner. So you don’t miss a thing. God bless this beautiful thing.
Do you see the problem emerging? This is what it does, the Mighty DC. It lulls you. Captivates you. Makes you its rube. I fear that I will never read a book again. I fear that I will gradually stop seeing my friends. I fear that my heretofore nonaddictive personality has been confronted with its first truly addictive element and it’s in my living room. There’s more. The ennui of finding nothing good on to watch has been replaced by the clanging anxiety of finding too much. Imagine channel surfing not out of boredom, but of necessity. Trust me, it’s worse. It feels like the Shakes.
I can even sense the Mighty DC starting to tinker with our apartment dynamic, which, for two years now, has been entirely placid. For most roommates, the worst nightmare is coming home and catching one your co-lessees in flagrante with an unidentified houseguest. Not us, not anymore. Our worst nightmare is coming home and catching Jesse watching “Mary Tyler Moore.” (TV Land, channel 085.) He’s also very fond of the “Singers & Standards” channel (Ch. 627)-just a radio station, really, broadcast over a blue screen with song titles. But he’s not the only problem. I know that he is terrified that I will get hooked on ESPN Classics (Ch. 084) and watch the movie “Hoosiers” again, and again, and again.
Whatever happens to us, of course, I will shoulder all the blame. It was my idea to invite the Mighty DC into our apartment. Because of it, our lives are over. And never better.
