© 2011 Josh creepytime

Communism is gone, and all we have left is the threat of zombie apocalypse.

Pac-Man is life. Your avatar, a voracious happy-faced digital entity, has no goal but to consume as much as possible before death corners him, which is inevitable.  Some players are excellent at avoiding death and accumulating points, others are hopeless, consumed by ghosts as they chase bouncing bananas and pretzels.   Some of us get hopped up on power pellets and go on mad killing sprees, as if our ghostly pursuers could be defeated by a momentary paradigm shift. The ghosts are coming for us all, meanwhile we just keep eating.

I really don’t want to beat this to death, I’m sure that someone else, somewhere has already hammered this point into some kind of autobiographical coming of age novel about the seventies and some significant event that occurred at an arcade of their youth, about how they sold out in the eighties, raised a family in the nineties, and has finally settled into a life of quiet consumption while evading the ghosts of their past.  But this brings me to my real point.

How can we be expected to be passionate about anything anymore?  Life today is about maintaining as much consistency as possible while the four ghosts:  terrorism, addiction, depression, and unemployment chase you from meal to meal.  We need an alien invasion, a world war, a zombie apocalypse, something to change the game.  I am fucking sick of pacman.

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