To DStv or not DStv?

2011-08-23 09:40

Apart from the imminent arrival of WWIII, an event according to Chris Moerdyk that will be the most tedious and thoroughly depressing of the World Wars, my most pressing concern at the moment is whether or not I should invest in a DStv decoder.

Of course, assuming that the disgruntled poor shall be clambering over my electrified ramparts in a matter of moments and helping themselves to my goods (note to rampaging hordes: the good wine is in the top cupboard), perhaps I should provide a little less to keep them occupied in my near future of suffering and untold misery.

On the other hand, it would be nice to have something to do while I’m waiting for the end, so it’s an important choice I find myself having to make. Help me South Africa, help me to DStv or not DStv, for that is the eternal question when the only other alternatives are the malfunctioning SABC and the comical, if not always on purpose, etv.

Now, I had DStv in my last place of residence. In fact, I had it in res at varsity and in my digs, but then went without its blessed extraterrestrial signal for around seven years. I can’t say that I missed it much in those barren days, even if it has left me without a working knowledge of many of pop culture’s most revered shows and characters.

I still don’t know if those who were once Lost now are found, or how George Clooney went from ER to the big screen. I read that Ruda Landman was returning to Cart Blanche (who knew she left!) and that Egoli is no longer mutilating ears with its sporadic splashes of English and Afrikaans conversations. The last time I watched the Simpsons they were black and white. On reflection, it looks like I haven’t missed much.

But I find myself yearning for a happier time, when I could plonk down in front of the telly (oh what glorious years were 2009 and 2010 eh Carlo...) and watch back-to-back rugby, cricket, soccer and whatever other sporting distraction presented itself in between the English Premier League fixtures and World Mice Rally Cross in a Maze.

Spending more time at my girlfriend’s home, where my TV lives too, and without the distractions of satellite television, I find that currently I’m being required to perform way too many “hugs”, “cuddles” and the like, and having to take part in something called “conversations”. On Sunday I was driven to six shops before 11:00 in the morning, all to find the “right kind of decorative bowl”. Or something to that effect.

Had my precious DStv been installed, I could have waved her off with a dismissive “watching rugby highlights, then England vs India Test match, then Stoke vs Norwich. It’s a must watch to see how the new boys are doing. Also, they’re replaying the Bok game at 15:00, and I just want to see, for the 17th time, how we beat the All Blacks”.

The thing is, though, while suffering through the agony and indecision or whether the white pillow with red stripes or red pillow with white stripes would look better in the lounge, I couldn’t bring myself to fork out the meagre R500 for a basic decoder.

I had every opportunity to walk out of the store, with decoder in hand, to salvage my Sunday. But I just don’t see the value in it anymore. That’s also R500 I could throw at a poor person, to throw them off my trail during the War.

I love my weekends full of televised sport, and I’d gladly pay R600 a month for 10 sports channels. But not the other gumph (whining chefs with Australian accents? No thanks). Plus, and don’t tell Robyn, I’m rather enjoying our intimate chats and the peace and quiet away from televised buzz.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I need dedicated wall-to-wall coverage of the Swiss Cheese Rolling Challenge and other unlikely sports to put my mind at ease before the world is enflamed with Dreary WWIII (copyright: CM). Help me, TV-loving South Africa. Help me to decide.

To DStv or not DStv. That is the question.

(PS: just teasing Chris. Enjoyed your food-for-thought column yesterday. Just a helluva downer on a Monday, man).  

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