“You sure you got today's codes?”

I didn’t write yesterday. Not for a lack of desire. Mostly for a lack of mental capacity. I spent most of the afternoon in a stupefied catatonic state. Like Jack Nicholson at the end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, I stared blankly at the world, or more specifically my computer monitor. I had a great topic for an entry (Taquitos, Skateboarding, and time to think). But as the drool started to pool on my shirt and in my lap, I figured I’d try and get up and re-gather my thoughts and maybe some energy.

“They was giving me ten thousand watts a day, you know, and I'm hot to trot! The next woman takes me on's gonna light up like a pinball machine and pay off in silver dollars!”

So I went to the break room and sat on the couch and just sort of tried to relax my brain. And by relax my brain I mean fall into a deep, quaking snore and drool soaked sleep. I sat down. Then I slouched a bit to support my head. Then I leaned my head back. Then I shut my eyes. And then I realized I was asleep. That has got to be one of the weirdest feelings. It wasn’t too bad, nobody came in, except for one guy who didn’t notice me and was calling up places to see if they had inflatable hemorrhoid pillows (Ok, so I was a little drowsy and it could have been “therapeutic” pillows, but I image hemorrhoid pillows are quite therapeutic, especially to someone with hemorrhoids). And technically we are supposed to get a 15 minute break at some point during the day. But no matter how ‘legit’ a break or nap is, if your boss comes in on you, you feel like a 13 year old caught looking up “big naked boobs” on the internet. A little frantic and immediately spouting off rationale and subtle explanations for what you are doing. “Oh hey, how’s it going? I’m, uhh, on lunch, so I was just resting here, because it’s my lunch break…until 1:30. I started it at 12:30 and in an hour, at 1:30 it’ll be over...yeah, ya know I think I’ll just go back and work now.” I realized that I was now completely useless at work and decided to just leave a half hour early. The rest of the day was not looking very promising. Things weren’t looking good.

“Just remember, if you hang in there long enough, good things can happen in this world. I mean, look at me”

Things were not looking good, that is, until I went over and played Super Empire Strikes Back on Brit’s Super Nintendo. Sometimes I get tired and bored with playing video games in my apartment all the time. So I go over to my friends’ houses to play sometimes. I love the Super Star Wars series for the SNES. To be honest I really do love just about anything related to star wars, except for conventions of 40 year guys dressed like Stormtroopers and Darth Maul, arguing over the legitimacy of midichlorians and the history of Boba Fett. (I can just smell the pungent odor of Cheetos and Mountain Dew mixed with 3 days of B.O.)

“NO WAY! I will trade you all of my Star Wars guys if it is. Except for Boba Fett. No matter how sure I am, I never risk the Fett man.”

But this time I did something different from the other hundreds of times I played the game…for 10 minutes, gotten frustrated, swore at everyone present, “Hulked out”, ripped my shirt to shreds and went on a green rampage of fury for 2 hours. Actually me “hulking out” mostly consists of me making roaring sounds while pulling my shirt up until people start laughing or I feel totally awkward and embarrassed, or both. Anyway this time I used…(drum roll)…a code. Ok, often these codes which provide invincibility, unlimited ammo, infinite lives, and the ability to score with hundreds of gorgeous women, are called “cheat” codes. I like to call them “Magical make the game more fun and fulfill my gaming fantasies” codes. I beat the game in little over an hour. Actually, I beat the hell out of that game. (Ok, that’s not really swearing because I was…uhh…talking about…exorcising the…demonic possession of the game cartridge through…superior gaming ability…and codes. I.e. beating “the hell” out of it. No seriously, it’s not swearing.) But it’s not like I felt bad. In fact I felt really good.

“I may be bad...but I feel good”

There was a time in my life where if I had taken the requisite 10 or so hours to beat the game under standard procedure, I would have felt “joyful and triumphant,” ready to brag to any who would hear me. But now if I had spent that much time to see a cheesy 16 bit rendering of the last scene of Empire Strikes Back, I think I would have felt really dirty and pathetic. Now with the help of some “magical codes” I only feel pathetic. It took me a good 10 minutes of restarts and attempts before I heard the rewarding voice of Darth Vader tell me “Impressive.” I blushed with embarrassment at the praise of the Dark Lord of the Sith. I punched a hole in the wall…with my head, so that everyone in the room knew that Darth Vader is no liar. There is something empowering about a code. It’s like authorization to ignore the rules and governance of the world of the video game. You can only get hit 15 times before you die. You can only die 3 times. You have to find the power-up to get a better gun. And with the magical pressing of A B Y X A B Y X A B A B Y X X Y A B Y X you can give the middle finger to the rules of the system and say “You know what? No, I don’t think I am going to play by those rules. Kiss off!!” I’m getting shot in the face, doesn’t matter it can’t hurt me. I fell down another cliff, time to teleport. This level is boring, press Start and skip to the next one. Codes aren’t for wusses or people lacking the ability. They are for those that demand reasonable, time efficient triumph and success. Those who want to control their video game destinies, to control their virtual lives. Total control, total victory…totally rad.

Sparks: “You totally rule”
Marduk the Sun God: “I totally already know that.”

…man, life needs some secret cheat codes.