Here's is my Popeye pop culture column from this week's FlipSide.
There's an evil presence lurking in my apartment as we speak, waiting for me to get home this evening. It's a big, black ominous thing that has teased and tortured me, keeping me awake for hours at night when I should've been sleeping. And the worst part? I'm the one who brought it in and gave it a home more than a month ago.
It all began around Christmas when I was fed up with not having an HDTV. I'm a bit of a technophile, and it pained me that while I had a PlayStation 2, Macbook with DVI (high-def capable) output and the finances for digital cable, I still had a junky old standard definition TV.
It was time for an upgrade, so I did some Internet-hunting and found a great deal on a 37-inch Westinghouse. I pulled out the credit card and voilà! A few days later, the delivery man was knocking at my door, dragging a box big enough to sleep in. After single-handedly pulling the behemoth box up a flight of stairs, I unwrapped the monolith of technology and plugged it in. My life hasn't been the same since.
