Quite possibly. They’ve certainly become a male status symbol. I first noticed this at a dinner party when all the men went missing. Following the “ooh-aaah” sounds, I found them in the lounge room, crowded around the new giant plasma TV. It wasn’t even switched on. They were just ooh-ing at the sheer manly size of the screen and slapping its proud owner on the back.
It reminded me of when girls gather around a woman with a new baby or a pair of impressive new shoes.
And just like men can’t speak shoe and think we’re idiots for wanting to accumulate so many, most women don’t get the plasma obsession. “I couldn’t care less about the size of the TV, what’s the big deal?” wonders one girlfriend. “Is it just about size, or is it also about width and picture quality? And what’s a rear-projection – are men proud of that too?”
Good questions. Personally, I like a big screen because I’m a bit short-sighted but I don’t understand what plasma actually is and please don’t tell me because I don’t care.
Neither do many other women. “The only up-side I can see to having a wall-mounted plasma is that it would stop my 18 month old son from kissing the tele,” notes another girlfriend. “He especially likes the cast of Neighbours and does some serious tongue action on Harold Bishop’s face. I hate to think of the radiation he is absorbing through his mouth.”
Among the guys I know, my electrician friend Gary appears to be a lonely male voice of dissent. He calls plasma-obsessed men Tele Tuggers. “My mates will embrace and high five each other when they discover someone has joined the plasma club; ‘oh, we must come around and see it’ they rave. They’re plasma tragics.”
Then there’s the implicit prejudice against those with regular TVs and even non-wall mounted plasmas. “When I told one of my clients that it wasn’t possible to conceal the power and aerial cables and that he would be best keeping it on a stand on the floor, he went into a deep depression,” adds Gary who recently declined the opportunity to buy a wholesale plasma cheaply through a friend. “Three things I will never own in life: a jet ski, a leaf blower and a plasma TV.”
My own home theatre experience has been typical of many couples: man fervently desires plasma and spends many months hunting down best possible deal. When plasma-prey is finally sighted and killed at Harvey Norman, it’s dragged back to the cave by triumphant man who waits for oooh-aaah accolades from woman. Woman gives large box in living room disinterested glance and wanders off. Man proudly assembles plasma and over ensuing months, repeats process with surround sound speakers. Woman hates surround sound. Complains it’s too loud and is disconcerted by feeling of being inside TV. Keeps looking over shoulder nervously during movies to see if bird//space-ship/crazed killer is actually behind her in house because that’s what it sounds like. Man bitterly mutters words like “killjoy” and longs for company of other men who can truly appreciate his plasma genius.
The worst part about home theatres is the remote controls. There are many. They mock me. I hate them.
Men have always sought to dominate the remote. But as TVs and home theatres become more complex, many women have been rendered impotent when it comes to remote controlling. Fighting for control of the remote is now futile because once I get it, I can’t work it. It may as well be a baguette.
Am I the only one who needs the phone to turn on the TV? As in: “It’s me. Look, how do I make this damn television work – no, DO NOT tell me it’s simple because it so bloody isn’t and I’m sick of not being able to watch TV when you’re not here AND I HATE THIS STUPID TV AND I’M GOING TO SMASH IT WITH THE STUPID REMOTE!”
Switching on my television now requires pressing five buttons on three different remotes. Inexplicably, switching it off requires six buttons on two different remotes. See? Simple.
So how did the plasma become linked to male status? One friend has this theory: “I guess plasmas can be a competitive item for men because, let’s face it, not all of them can afford the flash car or a flash house, yet for a few lazy thousand bucks, they can razzle dazzle their mates and make them envious.”
Indeed, when I ask my girlfriends what precipitated their partners buying plasma the answer is always the same: ‘one of his mates got one’.
Not that I’m mocking men for coveting thy neighbour’s plasma. It’s no different to the way some women envy other women’s weight, wardrobes or relationships. Neither gender can claim superiority on this front.
Interestingly, plasma envy has yet to penetrate the country. Tele tuggers are predominantly city creatures. This was confirmed by my farmer friend, Pete who admitted “I don’t care about big TVs but I am a little envious of people with more cows than me. Yes, very envious actually.”
Top Comments
My Plasma tele takes my attention away from the usual mundane things like babysitting, listening to my wife whinge, no sex , and calls from the bank regarding my late mortgage payments because my wife wanted to live in the Eastern Suburbs. I dont want much out of life, but give me my beer and the footy, and have I commited a crime. I dont look like craig wing, but hey I am happy in front of the plasma..funny that no one ever asks me that...while I watch tv...but maybe its just that.... someone doesnt want to see me happy...mmm where was that add in the Wentworth Courier about a place where they always " love you "
I have lost count of the number of times i have been invited to a friends house to watch sport on their massive tellies (telly kinda rhymes with something else guys have). But one thing remains. No matter how big the telly is, no matter how tinny bruce macavanies voice sounds coming at you from ninteen different directions, the result never changes! I drew far more pleasure listening to Manchester United play on the radio when i was a teen than i ever have actually watching them in high definition sound and colour.
They are our toys though. The gadgets, tvs etc... When we were growing up we played with fantasy toys. Transformers would never be real, he-man was clearly an in the closet gay chappy but could kick some serious arse and gi joe would be a muslims worst nightmare. And so our predilection for such toys continues... "watch my telly TRANSFORM into an entertainment system..." "i have been to the gym, look how big i am" and " i have joined the army, to fight for justice"... The old addage of 'show me the child and ill show you the man' seems to seep through all aspects of male adult life... 'show me the toy and ill show you the man' seems to me to be even more relevant.
To look at girl toys, the barbies, my little ponies, sylvanian families etc it seems as if women were only ever set up to be in the nurturing, motherly roles. Playing with a doll house? That house becomes real years down the track. Dolls become real babies.
So it seems that girls toys eventually become realities, there seems to be less of a fantasy element to them. If this is the case then women will never understand properly why men do indeed love their 'toys' so much.
Everything you accumulate is done so as to get back to the comfort you felt as a child...
What worries me though, what are the adults who played with pokemon and dragon ball z going to be like!!! We cant just have men meeting on street corners to see which one is the most ADD... And its probably best not to think about the repurcussions of brats dolls!
ollie