Nobody's going to take your 52" projection-era behemoth from the curb where you left it, especially once they find out that it has that chucklefuck of a dog from Duck Hunt permanently burned into the screen, permanently mocking the viewer on each channel.
I don't care if it cost $5k in 1987, analog TV has been off the air for three years now. Fuck a converter box, nobody wants to deal with that crap. And if they're poor enough that they have to deal with it? Then they likely don't have the space to house a giant-ass 1980s pantydropper anyhow. End the delusion and recycle that shit before the fall rains deposit ten pounds of water inside it, and I have to complain to the city about how you can't part with the memory of that one time twenty-five years ago when that chick seemed impressed by the size of your major appliance (but ended up leaving when she found out you didn't have any coke, let alone know anyone who sold it).
Get the best of the Mercury each week in your inbox!