Frozen on Wheel of Fortune

The other day my tv was frozen on Wheel of Fortune.  I couldn’t get it to change channels.  I tried the remote – feet up on the coffee table, lounging back on a nice, fat pillow, ice cream melting in a bowl by my side – pointing the remote and repeatedly pressing the channel button.  Nothing.  I stared at the remote, then pointed it and pushed again.  Nothing.  I remembered all the various stories I’d heard about pointing into one’s open mouth, or pointing it at the opposite wall – tried it all.  Nothing.  I shook it and tried again.  Nothing.  Giving up on the channel change, I tried just shutting it off.  Power button on the remote.  Nothing.  Disgusted, I tried the volume up button.  That worked.  Ok.  Volume down.  That DIDN’T work.  Volume up?  Yes.  Now it was quite loud.  But nothing else on the remote worked. I shook it again, and pressed the various buttons in turn.  Nothing.

With a deep, gusty sigh, I lifted my feet off the coffee table and prepared to approach the tv – something I had not done for perhaps years.  But the sound was so overwhelming now that I was quite annoyed.  I stood carefully, letting my stiff hip joints adjust slowly to the change of position.  Nothing left to do but go up to the thing.   So I moved toward it, only to discover that there were no buttons or knobs at all on it.  No frickin’ way to change the channel on the tv.  Could it be true?  I peered at the edge around the screen.  Nothing.  Then I remembered the cable box and looked over at it.  Lots of cute little lights, but no buttons.  Not even a power button.  How could that be?  I snatched up the remote, held it right up to the tv and pressed the buttons.  Nothing.  Then to the cable box.  Nothing.  Bugger!  So I smacked the cable box smartly, then tried again.  There was a brief sound of static, then a new voice from the tv:

“Please cease your attempts to change the channel.  It has been determined by your government, based on scientific studies, that watching Wheel of Fortune improves your health and well-being.  You are therefore required to watch at least 3 hours of Wheel of Fortune each day.  Resume your seat, and pay attention.”

A bit more static, and the show came back on.  I looked at the remote, looked around at the room, looked at the tv.  One of the new features of my cable subscription?  I’d never really watched Wheel of Fortune before.  Could it be good for my health?  I backed away from the tv slowly, toward the couch.

“And eat your ice cream.”  The voice cut across the game show’s announcer.  I sat down and did as I was told.