Taking It Back

Man, I am sick of video games. I remember back in the good old days, when everyone's best friends were Soda Poppinsky from Punch Out and Simon from Castlevania, where most males briefly entertained the idea of marrying the Princess from Mario Brothers. Now, it's all Final Fantasy: Trip to the Beauty Parlor and Digimon's Makeover Party. The last time I went to Best Buy, I perused the gaming section. One accessory caught my eye, and reminded me of a little something something from the glory days of Nintendo. Eventually, I found an employee of the joint and said, "Is that like one of those pads they used to give out with the Track and Field game?" "Oh no," he said, "that's a dance pad for a new game." If video games require dance pads now, then let's just go ahead and turn the keys to the country over to the Hillary Duff, because we're all just a bunch of lame little girls.

Where's the soul? Where are the button combos you hit to make someone's pants fall down? Somewhere, we gamers of the world have lost our way, but I will get us back on track. You see, I have come up with the next great game; it will be called: Uncle Coleslaw's Day at the Racetrack. In it, you play the titular character of Uncle Coleslaw. Your day begins as you search for your lucky pair of suspenders (hey, don't forget to check the trashcan!). Once you locate those, you take the bus to go get your racing form, then spend a few hours at the Waffle House picking your ponies. To answer a common question, yes, you will most definitely have to watch out for gravy spills. Then, the game kicks into high gear, as you have to sweet talk the fry cook to get a ride to the track. From there, anything goes. Relish the thrills of being a high roller, or make that goddamn jockey pay by stubbing your cigar out in his eye. Pick your horsies right, and that may be you eating the 10 foot hot dog at the end of the day with the bikini model. If things don't go your way, you'll find yourself crawling around the bleachers, searching the discarded tickets for any winners and weeping uncontrollably into your Diet Pepsi.

Will this game be too real for the youth of America? Yes, most certainly. But if you ask me, they may just need a dose of the gritty face of small stakes gambling. Drastic times call for drastic measures, and drastic measures call for some quality time with Uncle Coleslaw.