Wednesday, November 16, 2005

On Pocket-sized Monster Hypocrisy

I have found myself intoxicated by something that can only be described, in following this Journal's established naming convention regarding objects and pastimes considered addictive, low-brow and in some way dirty, as "skag".

But first, some context for you all:

I have a reputation amongst my friends for getting into things long after other people have moved on, resulting at times in outright hypocrisy on my part. Ninja Turtles, Microsoft, Nu-metal; all things that once I laughed at and then eventually adopted whole-heartedly. In almost everything, it seems I have a six-month lag time behind the rest of the world.

Secondly, I once remarked at a Transformers convention about the creepiness of some of the attendees (I know, I know, I was at a toy convention, pot calling the kettle black, what did I expect, etc), their age in particular; quiz masters and fan fiction writers (nothing wrong with that) in their 40s, which meant they must have been at least 20 when Transformers first turned up. So they formed the same bond with the material that I did when I was 5. A stronger bond, if anything. And as I fatefully remarked at the time, it was a bit like me suddenly getting obsessed with Pokemon.

You can see where this is going.

I have in the past mocked the queer popularity of these garishly coloured parables of crossdressing, avarice and animal cruelty. And frankly, I still don't get the cartoon at all, which ruins the otherwise spectacular Toonami lineup of animated DC shows and Samurai Jack. But no one ever told me that the cartoon, or even the trading card game, was not the point. No, the dark heart and foul soul of the movement could be found locked away in the plastic casing of a humble Gameboy cartridge.

Thinking about it, that last bit was a lie. I had been informed of the infernal glory of Pokemon: Blue Edition, by my dear friend and confidente, the ever-perceptive Mr T. In fact, that's where the hypocrisy bit comes in, because I once mocked him for his obvious addiction to it. And recently, he has traded his Gameboy Advance SP to me for a reasonable sum, along with a number of carefully-selected games. So who's laughing now, and who is sitting in his own metaphorical feces in the metaphorical gutter?

Don't cry for me, I'm already dead of Korean MMORPG player-style malnutrition.


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