August 29, 2007.  Since we're going to be getting a new widescreem, high-definition TV when our family room is renovated (see the August 15 entry), I've been doing research, and we're looking around.  The set we're going to be replacing is an almost seven-year-old 43-inch "projection" TV (a CRT) that I've come to refer to as "The Hulk."  It has served us well, but it's half as deep as it is wide.  When we bought it, we could not accommodate a bigger screen because of the amount of space that the older sets took up.  Nowadays, a 42- or 43-inch screen isn't considered especially large, and the sets are much slimmer.

We're finding a confusing array of choices.  First are the DLP (Digital Light Processing)sets.  These sets come in many different screen sizes, but once you get into the large-screen (50 inches or more) sets, they are still rather bulky.  Compared to other types, DLP gives more screen size for the dollar, so I originally thought that this was the way to go.

We have a problem, however.  The place where we want to put the TV – indeed, the only logical place – won't accommodate a large-screen DLP and all our components.  They could be placed in a stand with the TV on top, but I couldn't get at the hookups (as I sometimes need to do) without moving something that weighs a ton.  On the other hand, we have a wide shelf along that wall – one that would support a skinnier TV, allowing us to house the components in an independent cabinet in front of and beneath a TV set.

It would be the ideal configuration.  The wall could accommodate a TV with a 60-inch screen or larger (that's a diagonal measurement of five feet, folks), and I could mess with all the components to my heart's content.  I had to reluctantly admit that the only way this could be done was with an LCD or plasma TV.  Even those with humongous screens are only six inches deep, even less.  Many can be wall-mounted, though I'm wary of that because I'm not sure of the integrity of the wall in question (as in many older, modest suburban homes, our family room is a converted garage).

That, unfortunately, means considering something that would cost half again or twice as much as a DLP for the same size screen.  And I'm thinking big – at least 50 inches, preferably more.  One reason we upgraded to a 43-inch set years ago was that we had gradually built up a five-speaker audio system, and watching TV on a smaller set with theater-quality sound was more than a little incongruous.  Another is that our main use of TV is to watch DVD movies, which are designed for a big screen.  Now we're in the midst of the high-def revolution, so that even standard broadcasts are being geared not only to a wide screen (13:9 ratio) but a big screen.

To make a long story a little shorter, a trip to the store convinced us that DLP sets, though they are less expensive and yield excellent pictures, are simply too bulky for us.  My wife put it bluntly:  "We'd be trading one hulk for another."  It took only a few minutes to conclude that we had to go with a flat screen LCD or plasma set.

We were fortunate to get a very helpful and knowledgeable clerk at the store, even though we made it clear that we weren't buying yet.  That's essential because the technology in the new TVs can be complex.  Gone are the days when one carried home a relatively small set, took it out of the box, and just plugged it in.

We learned that LCD is very good but not as good as plasma.  Using a demo DVD, the representative showed us that LCD tends to blur somewhat on action shots, whereas plasma stays focused.  Some brands of LCD (notably Sharp and Sony) seemed less prone to this fault, but they all had it.  Another variable is that, if one is in the market for a really big screen (50 inches or above), LCD offers few options.  LCD is – except for a few brands and models – limited to sets below 50 inches (though I understand that larger LCD sets are coming).  Plasma, on the other hand, starts at 42 inches and works up.

One concern I had about plasma was that I've heard rumors that these sets don't last long.  However, the clerk told us that statistics to date show that the life expectancy of a plasma set is anout a third longer than that of an LCD set.  Anyway, even the most pessimistic rumors I've heard calculate that a plasma TV bought today will last around ten years.  In technological time, that's a lifetime.  As I said to my wife:  "Look around – how many appliances that we have in the house are more than ten years old?"  The answer is that almost none are.  OK, we have a few old items that are that old and are still in working order, but they are stashed in a back room unused.  We do have an older 29-inch TV that my wife watches occasionally for standard broadcasts, but it hasn't been used much since we acquired the widescreen set in the family room six or seven years ago.  And as for that, our widescreen set is so bulky that we're literally giving it away to make room for the new set.  It's already a relic because technology has advanced so far and so fast that hardly anybody wants it.  Who knows where technology will be ten years from now?  A paper-thin TV screen that hangs on the wall and rolls down like an old slide- or movie-projection screen, with the circuitry packaged in the rodlike container that houses the screen?

Anyway, our tentative plan is to go with a 58-inch Panasonic plasma set and then immediately convert our standard DirecTV satellite service to high-definition.  Whatever we do, I'll be reporting the outcome here.

September 2, 2007.   The great TV debate has been settled.  To take advantage of a limited-time coupon, we made our selection yesterday, even though the set won't be delivered and installed until after our renovations are done toward the end of this month.  We settled on the 58-inch, high-def Panasonic plasma TV.  We also purchased a high-def satellite receiver box with DVR and have arranged to have a new high-def dish put up before the TV arrives.

Although I'm accustomed to hooking up my own audio system (albeit with a certain amount of swearing), high-definition technology is a bit intimidating.  Therefore, we've paid the premium to the store to have the new equipment installed, configured, and calibrated.  We "broke the bank" anyway on the TV.  What's a few hundred more dollars?

Indeed, I'm usually a confirmed do-it-yourself person regarding A/V systems (and have even helped friends with theirs), but, when I'm spending big bucks to enhance my entertainment, I don't relish having to endure all the glitches that occur when I'm in charge.  On something like this, I believe that turning it over to the real experts and backing up the process with a service contract is worth the expense.  That way all problems become the store's problems, not mine.

Anyway, that should make the folks at the store happy.  I read recently in a New York Times article that retailers are not making much of a profit on big-screen TVs because prices are dropping constantly.  (Indeed, the salesman at the store told us to keep watching prices because we have a 60-day price guarantee and can get a refund of the difference if the price of our TV drops within 60 days, which he thinks it very well may.)  Because the profit margin is so low, the retailers are depending heavily on extra services and protection plans to improve their margin.
 
Indeed, if you are considering an upgrade on your TV, it's a buyer's market right now.  Even better, if you can wait longer than we have (i.e., until after the holidays), the experts are predicting huge bargains at the beginning of 2008, with 42-inch (the most popular size) high-def sets going for as low as $600.

September 10, 2007.  Aargh!  Sometimes software suppliers drive me to distraction.  I use a program from Webroot for blocking spyware and adware (it's called Spy Sweeper).  The program itself does its job fairly well.  However, there's an icon that is supposed to go on the system tray in Windows, and this icon is essential for managing the program.  For example, it's the only way to temporarily disable Spy Sweeper.

Since I installed Spy Sweeper three months ago, that icon has come and gone randomly for no apparent reason.  It is not "hidden"; it just doesn't appear, though it will reappear in another session as mysteriously as it disappeared.

The way one is supposed to get "help" from Webroot/Spy Sweeper is to submit an online "support ticket."  I have done so, over and over again, for three months.  Their "experts" have offered various "solutions," all of which I have tried.  I have, on their advice, uninstalled and reinstalled the program at least a half dozen times.  I have attempted to follow other instructions, even though the instructions at one time contradict those at another.  Nothing has permanently corrected the problem.  Judging from these unsatisfactory results and the contradictions in their "solutions," I've concluded that they haven't a clue and are just guessing.

The latest support ticket instructed me to change certain settings in Windows.  However, when I attempted to do that, one of the settings could not be changed.  "Access denied," it said.  This is, by the way, the second time Webroot suggested this solution and the second time that I've responded that Windows will not permit me to make the change.  Their entire response is:  "This would indicate that a preference within Windows is blocking this from being changed."

Aargh!  There is no word about what that preference might be.  There is no hint of how to resolve the matter if I cannot make the suggested change.  In short, this is not a solution but an evasion.  It plays the card that software manufacturers use all too often:  "It's not our product; it's something else – interference by another program, a Windows issue (call Microsoft, why don't you?), the way you're using our product, sun spots maybe."

I've given up on Webroot, though I will keep annoying them with "support tickets."  In nine months, my subscription will expire, and I won't renew.  Instead, I'll purchase and install a competitor's program.  It may not be any better, and the support may be just as bad – but at least I won't be supporting the same set of unhelpful idiots. 

Sept. 11, 2007.  I am not one for observing the anniversaries of tragic or sad events.  I couldn't tell you the date on which either of my parents died.  Yet two dates are burned into my memory – the day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated (Nov. 22, 1963) and the day the twin towers of the Trade Center collapsed after terrorists flew jets into them.  That, as virtually everyone recalls, was six years ago today, September 11, 2001.

I can recall exactly where I was when I heard the news, and I can remember large parts of that day, even though I personally knew no one who worked in or near the Trade Center.  Indeed, it was a long time after that before I even met anyone who was directly and personally affected – beyond the general shock that we all experienced.

I had just arrived at my office in Princeton, NJ, and was skimming the day's e-mail, when there was considerable chatter in the hall.  I got the first news that a plane had hit one of the towers.  Soon I had the radio on in my office and was getting more details, though they were sketchy at first.  A few minutes later, my wife phoned me from the Trenton Times newspaper where she worked to tell me what had happened.  I told her I knew and was following developments on the radio.

Bit by bit the details emerged:  a second plane had hit the second tower . . . it was a coordinated terrorist attack . . . nobody knew how many planes were aloft targeting sites in the US . . . the Pentagon had been hit . . . and so on.  I tried to follow the radio reports and also to somehow get some work done.  The enormity of the situation hadn't sunk in yet.  The office was suddenly very quiet, and I realized that most of the employees must be on the second floor, where one of the other tenants in the building had a large-screen TV set.  I decided to go up and see for myself.

I sat on the floor amid a crowd of people all equally in a state of utter disbelief, long enough to see the first tower collapse.  I did not stay any longer; somehow I couldn't.  Sitting in the midst of a crowd and watching, as it happened, an event that I knew must have snuffed out the lives of hundreds of thousands of people made me uneasy.  On the way back down to my office, I passed a young woman on our staff.  She was crying uncontrollably.  We said nothing to each other.  What was there to say?

When I got back to my office, I talked with some employees who had been trying to contact New York because they had friends or clients who worked in the Trade Center or nearby.  They had not gotten through.  The rest of the morning is rather much a blank.  I know I was torn between getting all the information I could and trying to shut it out of my mind entirely.

Shortly before lunchtime, an announcement came over the PA system that any employees who wanted to go home or elsewhere to be with family could do so.  I stayed.  I knew that my wife, since she worked for a newspaper, would still be at her office.  I didn't want to go home to an empty house.  I wasn't going around the office participating in the little clutches of employees discussing the horror of the day, but I knew I didn't want to be alone.

At lunchtime, I stepped out of the building and looked in the direction of New York City, sixty miles away.  It was a beautiful day, with an almost completely cloudless sky.  I thought I might see smoke, but of course it was too far.  Everything felt unreal.  In an odd way, the tranquility of that fall day and the chaos that I knew was occurring beyond the horizon were equally unreal.

By early afternoon, the office was nearly empty.  I decided I might as well be alone at home as there.  The traffic was quite light on my fifteen-mile drive home, but the sense of unreality lingered.  Other drivers were, like me, going about their business as if it were a normal day, though I knew that everyone I saw on the road was probably thinking about the same thing.

Back at our house (my wife was, as I expected, still at the newspaper), I turned on the TV.  A few minutes after I turned it on, it showed the now famous video of the plane hitting the first tower and the fireball that followed.  I couldn't watch any more.  I turned the TV off and sat on the sofa, bawling like a baby.