Wii Bii Iidiots.

Been awhile, I know, but industrial strength writer's block, mega apathy, supersized malaise and no life whatsoever will do that. The final ingredient to the mix however, my having one foot on Methusalah's age and the other on a banana peel, plays prominently into this piece. Approaching the "golden years" at the same speed as a runaway freight train, I find myself noticing more and more of God's wit and humor in the practical jokes he plays as we age. "This will be a good one, " it says, and presto, I'm bald! What a kidder that Great I Am is. I mean if he had to make me lose something, why couldn't it be weight?

There have been a couple of incidents in the last several months that have really caused my reflection on the passage of time and its effects on the mind and body. And these are not good reflections. More like fun house reflections. The first of these incidents was when my lovely wife, or as I like to call her, Hecate (look it up, everyone except Sandy that is), decided that We needed a Wii. Now I am way too sophisticated for any wee-wii jokes here, although I could come up with several. Anyway, the reasoning was it could be our Christmas gift to ourselves. We could have saved a lot of trouble pain and money if we just bought dueling pistols.

For the unenlightened, the Wii is an insanely popular video game "experience" made by the good sadists at Nintendo. Wii is not your run of the mill, humdrum, everyday kind of video game, but a system that creates virtual experiences that allow you to physically participate in a variety of activities that are designed to optimize both your gaming enjoyment and the depletion of your bank accounts. In future divorce cases, custody of the Wii will surpass custody of the children in terms of most coveted assets. I can see the lawyer ads now..."Call Dewey, Cheatam and Howe at 1-800-ASSHOLE because we're tough and we'll fight to get your Wii from the rotten son of a buzzard adulter, spouse abuser your married to, all at bargain basement prices."

Anyway, once your have shelled out the kids' college fund for a Wii system, you then can begin consigning your paychecks directly to Nintendo for the privilege of buying the next "big game" they put out, which everyone MUST HAVE, OR ELSE YOU'RE NOT FIT TO LIVE IN CIVILIZED SOCIETY AND ARE LOWER THAN WHALE POOP OR ELSE YOU WOULD NOT DEPRIVE YOUR FAMILY OF THIS UTMOST NECESSITY OF LIFE! Not that I'm bitter.

Now that is all well and good, but they don't make your aware of the Wii side effects which are way worse than any of those chintzy little effects you get from Ambien, like sleep walking, sexual promiscuity or waking up and finding yourself in the hoosgow for breaking into the local Food King and eating the entire frozen pizza section. Wii side effects are much more insidious and debilitating. To start, before you can even begin playing the games, you need to create a cartoon version of yourself (called surprise, a Mii) to represent you in all of your Wii activities. I created what I thought was the perfect Mii and was promptly laughed all the way to Pittsburg by my ruthless and thoughtless family members, most of whom are still hospitalized from the laughing spells they incurred whenever my character came on the screen. And they deserve it. Other than becoming the first laughing stock in your circle of friends, more nasty things will begin to happen. You will decide that you need the Wii Fit system which allows you to not only play fun exercise games, but experience the very real strains, pains and bruises that normally accompany being the running back for the New York Giants, but it has music to accompany all your exercises that will move into your brain and immediately take precedence over all the ridiculous commercial jingles that you once thought you would be hearing in your mind on your deathbed. These songs go straight for the aural jugular and lodge immovably and irrevocably in your spinal cord. I'll tell you this, the first time I catch myself humming out loud the ditty that plays during the aerobic stepping exercise, I am going to wrap my lips around the nearest gas pipe.

Getting back to how aging fits into all of this, it is my understanding that the Wii is now being used as an innovative source of rehab and conditioning for people in nursing homes and as a preventative against the onslaught of aging by those looking to keep young and fit. I am quite sure this is a conspiracy between the Nintendo people and the osteopathic professional associations to increase business.

The other incident could be classified really as several incidents and are due to the fact, as I've said many times, that I didn't learn my lesson in the Marines about not volunteering. The AARP, of which I am now a proud card carrying member, was looking for people to help the elderly, the really elderly, do their upcoming tax returns. Sounds nice doesn't it? Yeah, right!

I called the area coordinator for the Lake County program and he informed me I needed to attend training. Well, how much work could that be, so I said OK. Around Christmas time I get a letter from the guy telling me I had to go to two weeks of all day training and take a certification test to meet IRS (whom I love as much as my own children, maybe more so, hey you never know who might be reading this) regulations.

Anyway, when I showed up for the first class, I found that the average age of my classmates was a tad over 112. At the door they handed out a stack of IRS training material the size of a small skyscraper along with an extra strength truss. Several of the ladies had enlisted the help of a local front end loader. I wish I'd thought of that! The classroom that first week was in a community center I am convinced doubles as an extraordinary rendition site. It was a dungeon, er, I mean basement, with whitewashed brick walls, no windows with a porthole for passing the bread and water to the inmates. Since this was the basement of the building the boiler room of course, was about two feet from the room. Hence another fear of growing old. It had to be about 800 degrees in there and 90 percent of the class kept their winter coats on for the duration of class. I can't wait until I am 80 (God forbid) and I vacation at the beach in a Depends bathing suit and gortex parka. Some image eh? No barfing on my watch, please. I wear a very expensive Timex.

AARP was good enough to supply plenty of hot water for tea, decaf coffee (which is like making love in a canoe) and Dick Cheney autographed Nike defibrillators. I must say that this was the only class I ever participated in with an ambulance on site. Now the instructors were, unbelievable as it sounds, older than the entire class. Combined! This made for some humorous situations involving misunderstanding of what the instructors and the class were saying. For instance:
Student: "What is depreciation?"
Instructor: "Out the door, down the hall on your left. Don't forget to flush."

However, a good time was had by all, and we all agreed to get together next year for a wild party at the Sea of Tranquility Nursing Home, or the next funeral, whichever comes first.
So everyone enjoy your birthdays before they become "How much time have I got left" days. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm bald.

Love
Dad