Voodoo Time Dot Com

I went out and bought The Sims - Deluxe Edition a couple days ago for my PC. I figured I already have enough fighting and killing games, so something a bit more pacifistic in nature might be a nice change of pace. If you’re not familiar with the game, it’s basically about making a little virtual person (called, appropriately enough, a “sim”), giving him/her somewhere to live, and micromanaging his/her life. You control when your little virtual people eat, sleep, bathe, and even go to the bathroom. You wake them up for work in the morning and make sure they aren’t late for the carpool. You make them clean their house. You can buy them new furniture or redecorate their house. You can even control their social calendar and bring other little virtual people over for virtual dinner parties.

About two hours into this, I realized I had been suckered. I was sitting at the computer playing a game in which I had to do all the things I hate doing in real life! I was making a little computer person make his bed, take out the trash, water plants, and wash dishes. How is this fun? What is there about this to enjoy? In fact, a full Sim day lasts about 15 minutes of real time. So in two hours, I had already done some eight days worth of housework. In real life, it takes me well over eight days to do eight days worth of housework.

This whole idea has become so odd to me, that I’ve come up with my own term for it - retroescapism. Escapism is a sort of pejorative term for that attraction we sometimes have towards the romantic, the fantastic, the extraordinary. As we enter our third “TV Generation”, escapism is more a part of daily life than ever before. There seems to be a neo-escapist movement - retroescapism - attempting to escape traditional escapism. Instead of reverting back to reality, retroescapists end up simulating reality instead.

Evidence of this irony is all over. AOL’s biggest hit was the instant chat. Though by no means exclusive to AOL, they were able to get people to pay over $20 per month to sit around at home alone and talk to other people over the Internet. If you just step outside once in a while you could do this for free. And what of reality TV? Somehow, watching people interact on TV has become more entertaining than interacting with people in one’s own home. Even more ironically, it has become fashionable to invite people over just to sit and watch these shows together.

And, lest you think these are fringe movements, let me share the numbers. Reality television programs consistently rate very high. “Survivor” was #1 during both of its first two seasons. “Big Brother” continues to be a phenomenon all across Europe. AOL, with advertisements emphasizing its online “chat” features, is the number one Internet service provider (ISP) in the world. The Sims is the number one best-selling computer game of all time.

Speaking of The Sims, we are mere months away from an online, multiplayer version of the game. In The Sims Online a player will be able to make his/her own little sim and live online with other people’s sims. It’s going to be great! I mean, you could talk to other sims, invite other sims over for dinner, have friendships and love affairs. It’ll be totally like real life! The critics are ecstatic.

They say we’ve never seen anything like this before.

First I laughed. Then I thought they just might be right.

Bye for now.

My paranormally hypersensitive readers have no doubt noticed that things have gone a bit weird since Saturday. You see, all attempts at communication are going to hell in a handbasket for the next few weeks as the planet Mercury enters a retrograde period in our nighttime sky.

According to Dr. Manny Stahrs, chair of the Voodootime Institute’s Department of Astrology, “Planet Mercury is highly influential in matters of communication, technology, and a bunch of other crap. As Mercury moves backwards through the sky, you’ve maybe noticed that your computer is not working correctly. Or perhaps you can’t understand what your boss is asking you to do. Maybe your children and pets are not obeying you.” When asked how this was different from every other day of the year, Dr. Stahrs declined comment, citing an urgent and sudden need to visit the men’s room.

After this discussion, I started talking to myself. “Myself,” I began, “how is it that the movement of a tiny planet with a mean distance to Earth of some 150 million kilometers (approx. 93 million miles) can affect my communication with others? Well, because the planet Mercury was named after the Roman messenger god who was, incidentally, named Mercury. The Greeks knew him as Hermes. Mercury had winged sandals that he used to fly great distances to deliver messages to the gods. He is not to be confused with Sciaticus who delivered massages to the gods.

Since Mercury was the Roman god of communication, and the planet closest to the Sun is called Mercury, then it follows logically that said planet holds some dominion over communication throughout the solar system. Personally, I find that hard to swallow, but I cannot fully discount this theory as baseless. After all, I am seeing a disquieting trend this week at work. People keep calling me with computer problems, but I can’t understand a word they’re saying. Then when I tell them how to fix it, they disobey me.

Incidentally, this blog entry isn’t coming along so great either - Mercury in retrograde or writer’s block?

Anyway, I believe that a solution already exists for use in these troubled times. Think about this. What do English-speaking people do when we encounter someone who does not understand us? We speak s-l-o-w-l-y and LOUDLY and with extravagant hand gestures. So until October 6, it behooves all of us to walk around like we’re touring Istanbul or someplace. I’m not sure if wearing a Hawaiian shirt and dress socks with sandals helps, but it’s certainly worth a try. If you go that route, be sure to send pictures.

B-Y-E  F-O-R  N-O-W.

There is a time in my past that I don’t often share with others. It was a time when my life was ruled by a chemical substance so insidiously charming that I never noticed it was taking over my life until it was too late. Lord knows I tried to quit. How many times did I swear to leave it alone? How many sleepless nights did I spend wondering why I just couldn’t stop? I couldn’t escape it. It seemed anywhere I went, there it was - so easy, so cheap. How can you possibly end an addiction when everyone around you is doing it? How can you ever escape?

With time, I did escape. I was doing it less and less. I understood that my body really did not need it afterall. I had let myself become a slave to the high it gave me - a high I didn’t really ever need. I understood this. I let it go.

But caffeine is a cruel and jealous mistress. She knows how to make you feel good. You want her, and she knows it. She’s everywhere. She’s watching you. She smolders languorously in simmering coffee pots, tickling your nostrils with her irresistible perfume. She courses through your veins long after the taste of chocolate has left your tongue. She smiles playfully in her icy cans and bottles, refreshing and invigorating you as she bites your tongue with her effervescence. Refuse her, and she waits patiently. She knows you’ll be back. Even as your head aches, and you decend into a listless half-death, she waits. You will be back. They always come back.

I went back. Morning came too early that day; the summer sun pouring into my half-opened eyes, stabbing at my frozen mind like an ice-pick. I had to find something to put me right. If I was ever to make it through the morning, I would need some help.

She looked different, but I recognized her immediately; a little flashier, a little thinner, and I dare say a little sexier. I spun her around to look at her. She said she’d changed. That much I could tell. She’d changed her name, she told me, she sometimes went by Guarana now. She fed me some line about the mountains of Brazil, but I wasn’t really listening. I wanted her already, and she knew it. It was going to cost more this time, she warned, but she’d stick around longer. As a bonus, she’d bring along some amino acid called Taurine - a little lagniappe for old times’ sake.

To make a long story short, I did it, and it was great. So is the shame. She did it to me again, damn it. My friends say I don’t need her. They say she’s bad for me. It’s always so easy to say things like that from the outside looking in. But they’re right. Someday soon I’ll leave her again. It will hurt me, but she won’t care. She’s got better clients than me anyway.

Tomorrow I leave her.

Or maybe Tuesday.