I Don't Play Your Game

     I'm so glad this isn't a fad anymore.  

October 1, 2007

By Tom Ackerman

I hate The Game.  If you’ve heard of The Game, then you just lost.  For you see, that is the one and only rule of The Game; when you think about The Game, you lose The Game.  Thus at meals and around campus you may sometimes hear someone say “Oh damnit, I just lost The Game.”  And everyone within earshot who knows about The Game must also declare that they too have just lost The Game.  Then everyone laughs heartily as if they take some sort of pleasure from their communal failure.

            I hate The Game.  To me it is not funny.  To me it invokes undertones of Catholicism’s guilt obsession and Orwell’s dystopian laws.  I don’t understand how such a sadistic competition could be continually funny to anyone.  Perhaps chronic winners would find it amusing in a quaint sort of way.  “Oh hey, I just lost The Game, haha, luckily I win at everything that matters.”  Unfortunately, I am not a winner, for the most part, I am a loser (during volleyball in 7^th grade, I was voted the least-athletic human being on the planet after knocking the ball into the canal on two separate occasions). As such, I do not find The Game to be humorous; instead it slowly destroys my spirit.  For you see, thinking is supposed to be one of the few things I’m good at, thus I find the concept of losing by thinking to be unrelentingly depressing.  I can’t “practice” The Game, I can’t “strategize”.  Because doing so would entail me losing.

            Perhaps it is this paradox that people find so comical about The Game.  In my experiences though, such paradoxes are funny once at most and monumentally tragic on all other occasions.

            I hate The Game.  SO SCREW THE GAME!  I propose a new Game.  In The New Game, there is but one rule: If you think about The Game, you win The Game.  From now on, people will declare joyously “I just won The Game!”  And everyone in the area will jump up and proclaim “We just won The Game!”  Then these winners will embrace their fellow winners in the sweet comradeship of victory.  The truly great thing my version of The Game is that everyone can win.

            Of course, since I created the game, I win longer and harder and better than all of you.  I’ve been winning The Game the whole time that I’ve been writing this, and even before that I was winning, winning The Game almost nonstop.  I was winning and winning and winning and found the glorious delight of winning.  I have to keep winning.  Winning The Game.  Must think, think of The Game.  Guess what I got tattooed on each forearm; “The Game”.  Just so I’m always winning, winning, thinking, winning, winning The Game.  You can try to beat me, but you won’t. I’m always winning The Game, and winning is sweet.  Obsession? Obsession you say? Obsessors win, they win The Game!  You know what I just renamed my dog? Victory.  My new favorite book?  Invitation to the Game.  Must win! Always win! Win The Game!  Here I go I’m winning, I’m winning right now, don’t even try to stop me, I’m winning the game, I don’t even go to classes anymore, they prevent me from winning with all their thoughts, thoughts not about The Game, but I have to think about The Game to keep on winning, must win, must win The Game.  Don’t talk to me if I’m winning, winning The Game, and I’m always winning, you can talk to me about The Game, just know that I’m winning more than you, I want it more, it’s mine, my win, my game, winwinwin.  Stop losing at your loser game, come with me and win my winner game and win with me and win and taste the taste of conquest forever on your lips, but know that I, I have already won.

     So, this column came from a heated conversation I had with some friends.  By all accounts, the in-person performance of the rant was superior.  I think most readers found this article somewhat baffling.  But I really do hate The Game.

     My grandmother read this column (kids, if you ever write a humor column, don't tell your family about it).  She said, very apologetically, that she didn't really get it, but she was proud of me anyway.  I felt so bad.  But not actually bad enough to start writing columns that grandmas would love and relate to.  

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