A wire is still a wire
The verdict was in. After a careful analysis, son #2 announced that the intermittent state of our home entertainment centre had nothing to do with his earlier “re-cabling” efforts, where wires are randomly plugged into sockets in the hope of miracles. Instead, we really did have a faulty composite cable that should be replaced at the earliest occasion. It’s the weekend, and the box stores are waiting for me to balance their bottom line. Off to the shops we go.
Now, a wire is a wire. Preferably made from metal, although recent telephone cords prove otherwise. In the case of audio/visual cables, the integral coloured ends are better than gobs of plasticine for sorting out what goes where. Wires also should be longer than necessary to avoid that “stretched” appearance. I know what I want, and I know where to get it: we’re headed back to the Future.
My bad. Since the corporation has become a dealer for plasma (think crack for the home), the whole price point has taken a shift upwards. I wanted a four foot cord with three connectors on each end, to connect my $69.95 DVD player to my old, non-plasma TV set. They had cables, at the tagged value of $191.99 for the set. And they don’t bargain, or barter, or take old cables in trade. They do finance at an exhorbitant APR which is only right given the way their prices are set. No sale today.
Next door, give or take a parking lot or two, is Wallie’s. In passing, why didn’t the man name it Sammie’s? I haven’t travelled to any part of the world that has crowded conditions, but this place might suffice as a training ground should I need to improve my shoulder-to-shoulder skills. They, too, sell stuff. They haven’t caught the price bug though. I was able to find a three connector composite cable for $8.97 (I guess the Monster logo must have indecent rules on how the price must be elevated). That, a roll of Mentos and the obligatory share of my everything to the government and my shopping was done.
Moral here: a wire is still a wire.
