Journal Of A Plague Year

I am sick. My throat has swollen shut. My eyes water with compassionate tears.

Most people would blame the steamy cauldron of new germs that is a dorm, or the fact that I've been averaging about 6.5 hours of sleep per night, but not me. I recognize this sickness for what it is: divine judgment. I have sinned, and this is my punishment.

What was my sin, you ask? Gluttony? Lechery? Idolatry? Well, yes to all of the above, but God could overlook all of those. He could not look past, could not forgive my lack of faithfulness...to the Nintendo Wii.


I thought my relationship with my Wii was perfect and pure. We frolicked together in the fields and watched sunsets on the beach. I loved it as it loved me, and no other electronic device could get between us. Until he came along.


Prompted by an evil suggestion from that damned Jordan Stich, I am now seriously considering selling my Wii and games and using the proceeds to purchase an Xbox 360 and Halo 3.

This makes me a bad person. I am contemplating selling my sleek, cool, fun-loving underdog of a Japanese futuristic fun-box for a big clunky monstrosity, manufactured by an evil corporation which will probably use the proceeds from my purchase to oppress some Africans or exploit some orphans or something, all for the sake of a single game.

Yes, I have sinned, and here I invite the whole world to know it, that my shame and punishment might be complete. I have thought the thing, and so am just as damned as if I'd done it already.

I can already picture my break-up speech: Wii baby, it's not you, it's me. You're just too futuristic and revolutionary for me. I'm a simple man with simple alien-killing needs, and you deserve better.


I rightly hate myself for saying this: does anybody wanna buy a Wii, two controllers and nunchucks, wii sports, call of duty 3, twilight princess, and elebits for $350?