Yesterday, I was in EB Games with Erin. She wanted to but some WWII-interactive-super-intensively-violent- Nazi Zombie-shoot’em up video game in HD graphics.
Okay, I’ll confess, I don’t know what the hell she was buying. I can say with absolute certainty that it wasn’t Pac-Man; or even the less misogynistic Ms. Pac-Man. Anybody remember Mappy? Man, I was Da Boss at Mappy. One quarter did me forty minutes. I could run to the mall at lunch hour, shove a sandwich and juice pack down my throat along the way, play Mappy for 40 minutes and then boot it back to Junior High with about five minutes to spare.
Yes, I had the world on a string. I was a nerd, but I had the world on a string. One of my best friends in Jr. High, who was arguably a bigger nerd that I, had beaten the world record at Pac Man. And whilst other guys flirted with the little girls in the halls, we would breathlessly tell each other of our video game exploits.
Ever watch Big Bang Theory? Same thing. Except I am most definitely NOT a math whiz.
Yes, dearest reader, I was a nerd. But I was saved when I simultaneously discovered alcohol and women.
Good for me.
An interesting side note on Math: when I entered University, there was a this calculus (I think) course called Math 1010. It had something like a 35% fail rate. Anyway, since you couldn’t even discern my pupils in my first year’s student i.d, it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone that I got a 30% math grade that semester. I did better the second semester, I got a 35.
And so, the 3rd time around I was actually able to tutor some people just before the exam. They all passed… I got 40%.
When I attempted to enroll in Math 1010 a third time, the clerk at administration informed me that I had been placed on Academic Alert, which meant that if failed anything else, I would be expelled.
“I don’t care.” I insisted “I wanna take it!”
“In the name God… why?” She asked.
I had a one word answer “Spite.”
And so, I took Math 1010 a fourth time and got a 65%.
Lol, then I took Math 1011 and got a 60%.
So there!!! Good for me!
(It’s healthy to give yourself compliments, you know.)
Whoa…. I got a little off-target there.
I want to return to EB Games where Erin was about to buy the super violent and graphic apocalyptic-meltdown of a video game.
Get this; there was a Parental 17 sticker on the damn thing.
I was legally required to take Erin’s money from Erin’s hand and place it in the hand of the clerk. Then receive the game and change from the clerk and hand it back to Erin.
Jesus.
When the clerk (who looked to be between 6 and 15 MONTHS older than Erin explained the law to me, I rolled my eyes, swore (just a little and real low, I promise). I then turned to Erin and asked in my deepest ‘Father from Leave it to Beaver’ voice, “Erin, are you confident that this game will not corrupt your innocence and sensibilities?”
Erin gave me an expression that could only be described as mortified-outraged-disgust. Then her eyes took on that wicked twinkle of enlightenment as she asks “You’re being facetious, aren’t ya?”
LOL…. good girl.
However, the whole incident had got me to thinking of all the inane, insane and hypocritical laws and rules and regulations that have proliferated throughout our society like a sweeping horde of dandelions.
Within the province of Newfoundland & Labrador, Canada, you can…..
Operate a potentially lethal weapon like a car, but not vote, join the army or work for EB Games.
Hmm… in fact, I’m not even sure if you’re allowed to screw.
Now, at eighteen you can take part in the electoral process, drive, work at EB Games, watch a naughty movie and kill and die for your country. But you can’t have a beer.
I think you’re allowed to screw. So that’s good news, eh?
Just think…
You can quit your job at EB Games, drive to a brothel and/or your girlfriend/boyfriend’s house (but first, drop in somewhere to vote) and lose your cherry whilst listening to the expletive lyrics of Eminem before shipping off to war in the morning.
Sounds like a great night. But ya gotta do it sober.
Yessir, we’ve certainly managed to legislate our youth into line.
I feel better. How about you?
Poppa Paul
p.s.
I almost forgot to give a big thumbs up to the heroic American border guards who confiscated a family’s sinister supply of Kinder chocolate eggs. Apparently, small American children can choke on the toys in each egg. So there ya go… Homeland Security saves the day. I know that here in Canada, you can’t walk down the street without tripping over all the dead children with Kinder Egg chocolate on their mouths.
Terrible Times, indeed.
Chow.
Jennifer Connolly
Excellent!