A few weeks ago I posted about a friend who offhandedly commented that I "need a bigger screen" after he had been treated to an evening at Bijou Briggs. I mentioned fuming about his remark throughout the following weekend. At any rate, that blew over. He has since been back to my place and enjoyed still further home-theater fun. But that's not what I came here to talk about. Instead, I want to analyze his thought processes, to probe the mind of someone who appears completely oblivious to home-video and -audio technology. To wit: I'm planning on purchasing a new display for the main system and rotating my WEGA to the bedroom theater. The Toshiba that's working there now would go into elder-statesman status, always on call as a general-purpose backup. So, I will need some help moving all these 180-pound displays around the house. How to compensate my buddy for helping me with the beast-of-burden duties? Well, last December I received a brand-new Panasonic CT-27D12D direct-view set as an office holiday-party gift. It remains in its still-sealed carton to this day, occupying the space underneath my kitchen table. I have no plans for setting up and using the thing. Why not, I thought, give this perfectly good set to my friend? I proposed the idea to him the other night, and he was impressed. But the next day, he calls me up and tells me he won't "really need" the set because he is happy with his twenty-year-old TV. "I don't need a new TV," he concluded. "But, Dave, this is a brand-new unit with both component-video and S-video inputs on back and three color-temperature settings and a lot of flexibility," I responded. Wasted breath. He doesn't know what any of that stuff is. "I like the picture I have," Dave maintained. "Televisions have improved, though, Dave. Even a current, analog-only set like the Panasonic will look much better than your Sylvania." Then Dave, remembering something I had mentioned to him earlier in the week, said, "Jack, you told me that after 2006 I'll need to get a digital settop box in order to see any television at all. Well, why should I take that television when I'll have to get another box to see things on it? I'd just rather get a digital TV when I have to." "Dave, you're not getting it." My tone was getting edgy. "But I don't need another TV," he continued. "You're going to need to buy a settop box anyway for that two-decade-old TV you love so much," I persisted. "And you're certainly not going to be able to connect a DVD player to that antique." "Well, I'm just not ready to get into DVD," he offered. "Why the hell not?" "I just don't want to spend the money. I'm happy with video." ("Video" = VHS.) This guy is a photographer. He knows all about accurate colors. He works with Photoshop. Yet, when it comes to electronics and home-theater, Dave may as well be a candidate for that PBS Manor House "reality" series. Why I like this guy baffles me. Maybe it was all the nights working those rock & roll shows, me with my notepad and penlight and him and his plethora of cameras and associated equipment. Maybe it's all the girlfriend-related issues we endured concurrently. Shared experiences. Good times and bad. All that rot. Yet, Dave is a walking object-lesson for all those of you who express frustration with the indifferent sales staffs at modern A/V chainstores and with video-rental outlets that stock pan-and-scan transfers instead of widescreen ones. The guy simply is indifferent to all this stuff, even to the point of turning down a brand-new Panasonic CT-27D12D still in its box. He's one of those people who cannot see the superiority of DVD. It's wasted on him. But Dave's still helping me with moving all my displays around.