Irony’s a Southpaw Named Righty

My friend, Kiko, spends up to five hours a day playing Guitar Hero. After five years of this, Kiko has become a master at Guitar Hero. He’s so proud of himself. I was over at his house the other night, and he makes me sit there while he plays, ‘Freebird’ on Guitar Hero. When he finishes, he puts down the plastic guitar with plastic buttons, wipes his brow and asks me what I think. I told him that if he spent five hours a day for five years on the real guitar, he’d be good at that, too. Kiko didn’t like my answer and reminded me I owed him five bucks from ten years ago.

I’m sorry, but, I’m not prepared to celebrate you if you get good at punching buttons really fast. Guitar Hero. Come on. What’s wrong with just guitar?

What’s next, Singer Hero, where you just stand there with a microphone while someone’s recorded voice comes out of the speakers?

Or Drummer Hero, where the drum kit lights up in front of you, making drum sounds and you hit it like whac-a-mole.

How about, Relationship Hero, where you have a viral girlfriend, though, in this case, viral means good, none threatening. You wanna go viral with your viral girlfriend. Be the hero in every relationship, date, Relationship Hero. Where you sit in front of the screen dating your viral girlfriend who cooks dinner that you click to Accept. You push the buttons that light up on her face to always keep her smiling. Later, you can leave the laptop running all night, with the image of her sleeping next to you in bed. Good night Girlfriend Hero! You say after clicking to Accept her Sex Invite.

I saw a guy coming home on the bus, sitting right up at the front, chatting away with the driver. I was just a couple seats back, so I could listen to their comments on everything from the weather, to what’s best to wear in certain weather. The conversation lasted a good ten minutes, till, the man pushed the bell on the pole in front of him, alerting the driver that he would like to get off at the next stop. He rang the bell. The man had been speaking to the other man for at least ten minutes, and he couldn’t work in the words, “Next stop, please,” into their all-consuming dialogue about everything weather? This is what we’ve become, a bunch of button-pushers.


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