I love my iPhone. For the nerds out there, I got an original 2G, then 3GS and now I’m onto the iPhone 4. I seriously am in love with it. When I recently dropped it into water, essentially killing it, I thought I was going to cry. Actually, I may have actually cried but I can recall.. it was just way too emotional. Anyway, it’s been replaced, so I guess you can say that I’ve owned 4 of these things. Obsessed much? In my opinion it’s a healthy one, say compared to being a hooker on crack.
So why have I been recently been trashing it around or violently clasping it in my hands (not, it’s not You Porn)? I’ve been playing this stupidly addictive game, High Noon. Simply put it a old west gun dueling game between you and some other iPhone user. You’re a cowboy, you draw you gun and shoot your opponent. You get better, earn gold, buy better guns and kill (or get killed) more experienced cowboys or girls. I’ve been playing this game for about a month. I think I’ve worked out that I’ve had at least 200 hundred duels and averaged an hour play every day.
Why am I angry? Well, for some reason I really hate getting shot. It’s not like the game is a total immersion experience. How can it be? I’m playing on a screen which is about the size of a deck of cards. Yet, I find myself anxious before the duel.. there is this crazy period of tension before dueling where some crappy, slow drawn out music plays. I take a deep breath (I know, it’s a game, WTF!), then get ready as I know how important the first shot is to determining my fate. Yep, I’m taking this game so seriously and man.. when I lose, I’m very super pissed off. I know it’s irrational and that I should be focusing my anger towards worthy subject matter such as the royal family or why Celine Dion still draws breath but there I am, cursing randomly, often in public when some kid shoots me on my iPhone.
Oh and it gets worse. In the game you can purchase these cheating aids such as flour or chili which these fuckers throw in my face, blinding me so that I can’t shoot, while they’re unloading bullets on me. You have no idea how hyper vigilant this makes me. So much so, that send them a nasty telegram (that’s right, this is how High Noon nerds SMS each other). Here are actual things I’ve sent to my cheating bastard opponents during my fits of anger “Pussies use flour”, “Like cheating you coward”, “If I see you in person, I’m gonna shoot you in the face”. Are these responses to what should be a time-wasting activity.. justified, damn straight they are!!
Strangely though, this abusive messaging took on a dark turn recently. Here’s the scenario, my cowboy is a black man with slightly graying beard with a female japanese name. I duel this guy who cheats (MF!) buy using a rope, which essentially has my bound by my feet, upside down while this arsehole is shooting me in the head. I’m not happy. I telegraph this loser (even though he beat me but then, cheating makes him the loser right, or are we both losers.. anyway..) with my message “You’re a pussy”. By the way, I always find that calling a guy a pussy consistently hits a nerve, while it’s not the most offensive thing to say to another person, it does effectively hurt the male ego. Anyway, he comes back with “FU Nigger”. Wow!!! really, the N word? Time to point out that I’m not black but for some reason get really offended… and then begins a 2 week exchange of the most stereotypical racist comments that I’ve come across. The dialogue then goes something like…
ME. You’re redneck, trailer park, welfare collecting pus bag
HIM. You probably never met your dad and you’re mum gives it up for cash
ME: You should stop molesting your sister and getting your brother to watch
HIM: Got shove fried chicken up your ass
.. and on and on.
It finally ends with his message, “This has to end, seriously I can’t do this anymore”. I respond with “Hey man, I’m not even black but I certainly did learn a lot about you these past 2 weeks hey MF!”
Ok, I know what you’re thinking.. WHY? Yeah, I know after some time I was kind of thinking the same thing. I just kept imagining this guy in his flannel shirt with wifebeater singlet, sitting in his pickup truck, listening to some hillbilly banjo music, with his rifle in the back, and bumper sticker saying something like “If you don’t like it here, get out”. I think I stuck a nerve as I just kept on attacking what I guess was his poor, lower class, white background while he thought he was upsetting a proud man of colour. Funny thing, the only black thing about me is my High Noon cowboy avatar and of course, my soul.
So the lesson here… don’t abuse poor white supremacists with poor vocabulary. I’m so ashamed 🙂