Little bit of a silly idea (ok, I'll admit: a rather large bit of a silly idea) I had last night after some events. Here we go... --- If your label is to be believed, you were born on May 25th 2007, in a nondescript Chinese factory. Undoubtedly you were one of hundreds, if not thousands, of boxes to come off that factory line on that day. But you were the one to come to me. In 2007 (or was in 2008?), I was a small boy in a rural elementary school. But at home, we had become tired. That is to say, tired of the constant abuse from those known as Pegasus, from whom we had no choice but to derive our Dish Network programming through. Or did we have a choice? Yes, oh yes, we did. On one otherwise normal day, while I was busy elsewhere -- learning multiplication tables -- a humble man came to our abode in a white van bearing blue livery instead of the red we had become accustomed to. Within this van was the equipment to save us from our previous equine tyrany. And of this equipment, you were the crowning jewel, to be placed atop the living room television. As I would find upon my arrival home later that day, you were not as I would expect. You were not a drab gray box pulled straight from the era of grunge as your predecessor upon that rear projection throne was. You were a bright silver color, with inviting blue lights adorning your face. The many pieces of paper left behind by the man detailed all that you could do for us, well beyond what we had before. "We can record one TV show, while watching another?" Bright times had come. Though the initial excitement would soon wear off, you would not. Many hours would be spent by each or all of us viewing the media you delivered to us. Much of that media would find its way onto your at the time vast storage. Many seasons of college football have been watched in front of your blue glowing lights. You really were really a centerpiece to bring a family together. As time still wears on, changes happen all around you. The rear projection TV you sat upon and the DVD and VCR players which flanked you were succeeded by a wall mounted LED TV, Blu-ray player, and XBMC box. One of your own kin (of family HR21) was installed, lived its whole life, and died just a few meters from you. The family in front of you grew from one with small children to one with each child in college and high school respectively. And the chrome wore off you as well. No, I do not speak literally, though your spinning parts do grind rather loudly at times. Your storage has been long since filled too. But no, it's not you, it's us. You see, numerous successors of your own heritage have come to market, with abilities well beyond your own. Those known as Genie have tempted us many a time. We have had many occurrences where you may have been at long last laid to rest. But you endured gracefully, so you have remained upon your perch, the aging king of our living room. That is, until this past night. I had retreated from my ever appealing Personal Computer, to come under your blue glow and haze yet again. Except, you would not awaken from slumber, no matter how many prodding of your remote and of your face occurred. A few times, your lights would come on, but no life was there. The lights were on, but clearly nobody was home. The hidden red button under one of your silver face flaps was pressed. You made noise, meekly brought your power light to a dim glow, and then winked out again. It was at this point that I was sure that your life had met its end. After 10 years of serving your kingdom, and watching all around you change, that you had finally met eternal rest. I was about to remove and reseat your power cord as one last effort to bring you back to life. My hand was on that cord, when suddenly a blue light had appeared above you, in my peripheral vision. On the television screen, laid a few words: Hello. Your DIRECTV receiver is starting up. --- Everything in this story is entirely true, through obviously dramatized. Our DirecTV HR20-700 receiver, ten years and two months on from its assembly date, continues to serve our household. These things were really built to last.