DVR Etiquette

There was this Wednesday a while back that was a great day for soccer, what with a Premier League fixture and the second leg of the UEFA Cup tie between Everton and Fiorentina. Of course, I was out of town for these events, and needed to TiVo them. Much to my chagrin, neither game taped, due to insufficient space on our DVR box. I looked, and 90% of it was taken up with Reba episodes.

I called in Mads, my Norwegian companion.

"What?"

"Do you know anything about this?"

"Oh, yeah, there was a marathon. I figured I could get all of them at once, and not have to buy them on DVD. I plan on converting them on your DVD burner."

"Dude, we both share this DVR box. You can’t just take up 90% of it for an inordinate amount of time."

"Why can’t I?"

"It’s rude, in the first place."

"How is it rude?"

"How is it rude?"

"Yeah. I mean, the idea of TiVo is so new, there really haven’t been a list of guidelines laid out for DVR etiquette."

He made an excellent point. Too excellent, in fact. I felt like it was my job as a concerned citizen to remedy this issue. I asked Matty, my personal biographer, what he thought.

"Yeah, I was just talking to my buddy Brett about the same thing. He too was suggesting a sort of DVR etiquette."

I took up the torch.

Elements of DVR Etiquette:

RULE 1: DVR space must be allocated equally among all members of the television watching household. If one or more members of said household wish to relinquish some or all of designated space, an arrangement may be made to dole this space out amongst the remaining members in a manner that is fair and equitable.

RULE 1a: Always keep in mind that Hi-Definition programing takes up more space than regular broadcasts. One may only tape a few shows, but each show may take up much more of the allocated space than he or she expects.

RULE 2: If an individual must temporarily exceed his or her space limit, this must be done with the rest of the household’s consent. Once consent is given, the person exceeding the limit must make haste to watch his or her program swiftly and erase it so that the space is returned to the rest of the household.

RULE 3: Sporting events by their very nature exact a heavy toll on a DVR Box: not only do they take up large amounts of space, but the time they tape and the need to extend the designated recording time in case of overtime and whatnot tends to cause conflicts with already scheduled recordings. Sporing events should always be dealt with very carefully.

RULE 4: If two programs are recording at the same time, thus forcing anyone watching television at that moment to watch one or the other, the person watching at that time can cancel one of the recordings to watch his or her own program, especially if no prior arrangement has been made with respect to the two programs being on at the same time. Just because one individual is not present and must tape his or her programs, does not mean the rest of the household has to suffer and not enjoy their own programs.

RULE 5: Finally, when recording The Banana Splits, one must never keep more than two episodes saved on the DVR hard drive at any time.

I presented the rules to Mads, and at first he didn’t accept them. When he saw the Martha Stewart stamp of approval I received after I ran them by her, he was forced to relent. I can now with all assurances say that only 50% of our DVR box is filled with Reba.

The Banana Splits

It's never a good idea. It was never a good idea when I was a teenager or in college; but it's an even poorer idea now in my mid-thirties. Why I still do it is beyond me.

Mads, my Norwegian companion, came home the other night with a bunch of tabs of acid.

"I got a great deal," he said.

I was watching TV with our good buddy Ben, discussing the possibility of him starring in a Daredevil 2. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders.

"What the hell. You only live once, right?"

As acid trips go, it wasn't bad. I was feeling pretty solid, until I was coming down, and I saw all these scary things on the television. There were people in weird animal costumes running around doing silly shit. Their voices were dubbed in a mixing booth somewhere else. The bad laugh track I was hearing made it even harder to deal with.

That's when the racism started. There was a cartoon that made fun of Arabs. Then the people in animal suits went to a Confederate soldiers parade. I cringed as the animals walked around waving Rebel Flags. Finally, there was some serial called Danger Island. It had a character named Chango or something. I was waiting for Al Jolson to dance in in black face, it was so bad.

I was about to lose it entirely, when the next thing I knew, Bob Ross was on the screen painting fluffy white clouds. I couldn't believe it. It must've all been a crazy acid induced dream. I told Mads about it.

"You're a fucking moron. The acid wore off long ago. We were watching The Banana Splits. I saw the whole thing with you."

He must've been fucking with me. Yet, when quizzed, he knew the same minute details of the show I did. I waved my hand in front of me. It looked all right. I shook my head. No trails. I paused.

"Mads, you mean that show was real?"

"That was The Banana Splits. Don't you remember it?"

"No, my mom wouldn't let me watch it growing up."

I thought for a second, and looked around the room. Something was off.

"Hey, have you seen Ben?"