When I was a kid, my family referred to the TV remote as “the controls.” As in, Hey, pass me the controls! I wanna watch Family Matters ‘cause it’s 1991 and I gotta learn how to do the Urkel.
I’ve never heard anybody else refer to a remote as “the controls.” Course, I’ve never seen a remote like the one we had, either. It was exceptionally wide—about half the width of a computer keyboard, I’d say, only with way more buttons. There were just rows upon rows of buttons, and nobody knew what most of them did. No wonder I never learned the Urkel.
Mind you, I don’t know the purpose of many buttons on my current TV’s remote (“P.SIZE”? “STB GUIDE”? Your guess is as good as mine). But it doesn’t matter because I only use the remote that came with the TV to turn the set on and off and to adjust the volume.
Since my husband and I don’t have cable anymore, we stream all of our televisual content via an Apple device, and it has its own little remote for selecting content, pausing, rewinding, and such. The Apple remote could probably handle turning the set on and off, too, but I still use the other remote for that. I think of it as a vestigial remote.
I wish I could remember when the people in my family stopped using the term “the controls.”
Back then, you had to watch TV episodes when they aired at their regularly scheduled times or else wait for summer reruns. I suppose you could also try to tape the episode for later viewing using your VCR, but for that you had to depend on the VCR’s timer function or a loved one to press the record button in your absence. In my experience, both methods proved unreliable.
Whenever I tried to go the timer route, the end of the show would inevitably get cut off. And whenever I asked my parents to record ALF for me because the show’s time slot conflicted with my stupid violin lesson, they would either forget or have some other excuse, so I finally stopped asking.
I wasn’t even good at the violin. In my hands, the instrument sounded at once screechy and forlorn. Much like how Lucky the cat would probably sound if ALF of Melmac ever got to fulfill his wish to feed upon the poor feline. (I caught the summer reruns.)
Here in the streaming era, you can ostensibly watch episodes of a show whenever you want. But in point of fact you remain at the mercy of your loved ones because they won’t let you watch episodes without them.
If, for instance, I dared to catch up on The White Lotus without waiting for my husband, I’d fare about as well as Lucky amid a gaggle of hungry Melmacians. I’m starting to think this post assumes an unreasonable degree of familiarity with ALF lore on your part.
The only time I get full control of the controls these days is during the Weekend Wind-Down Movie I watch Sunday nights. Yes, of course I came up with a theme song for the ritual. Here are the lyrics:
The weekend's almost over and you've got the Sunday scaries,
Thinking all about the scary Monday necessaries,
But sit right on the couch and put the nagging daily grind down
Time for movie fun — here comes the Sunday Weekend Wind-Down!
And here are the lyrics for the Weekend Wind-Down intermission song:
The movie's halfway over and you need an intermission.
Press pause like when a shop hangs up a sign that says "Gone fishin'."
The snacks are in the kitchen and the bathroom is for peein',
But don't take too much time — we'll soon resume the film we're seein'!
Curiously, this is one weekly event my husband does not mind missing one bit.
Indirect Objects 