It’s not like I have some vested interest in televisions, but going to the Early Television Museum seemed like a perfectly acceptable way to spend a chilly, overcast Sunday in March.
Even if it meant driving 3+ hours to the small town of Hilliard outside of Columbus, OH. Nothing weird about that, or the fact that Henry had to keep putting me and my petulant attitude in check, or the fact that nearly every one of my senses was drop-kicking me straight back into the hands of 2005.
I was just there to see some vintage fucking TV sets. Goddammit.
Our current TV is about three years away from being quite at home here.
Andrea would have hated this place because it was an unguided tour. The aging hippie at the front desk took our donation and was basically like, “I don’t give a shit what you do. Touch whatever you want.” And that is exactly what Chooch did — touched every button on every TV. (OK, I did too.)
I can’t remember the last time Jonny Craig sounded so loud in my head, even around the constant hum and squelch of vintage television.
Some buttons actually were off-limits. Thank god there were cameras in every room to make sure that we didn’t touch anything/anyone we weren’t supposed to be touching.
Oh look! It’s Henry standing amongst televisions from his own era!
“I like your shirt.”
“Thanks, I bought it after you quit talking to me.”
When I was five-years-old, there were only three TV channels and I ate sardines straight from the can! Henry to Chooch, who fucked around with his “new iPhone” all day.
For all my clown-lovahs out there.
World’s first clicker aka remote, I think.
I was worried it wouldn’t be worth it. But it was worth it.
I was so distracted by all the relics from the past, that I forgot to even sign the guest book.