The Death of Time

To occupy my sick wife's time while I am on campus, I purchased Animal Crossing: City Folk, as I mentioned last time. We played the original game daily for over six months before life drew us in other directions. The town of Dapslihp (have fun figuring out that name) still resides on my GameCube memory card, overgrown with weeds and bearing a memorial to a purple cat named Bob. I cannot bring myself to free up the space; I drew that much of a connection to my little sequences of ones and zeros.

Feeling somewhat like a traitor to my existing and neglected villagers, I created a character in the new town of Newrland. I had forgotten that any Animal Crossing title consumes lives in the course of play; hours slip into oblivion as I wander the fields searching for fossils or the recipient of a gift delivery. This is made even worse by the fact that since I am virtually always the last person to play the game every day, most of the special stuff is already gone. How can I spend so much time catching carp and picking up seashells? What is this insidious hold Nintendo has claimed over my leisure time?

Barely connected to the post title, I played some Tiger Woods golf last night at my brother-in-law's house. I scored a birdie on the very first hole of Pinehurst No. 2, and after that I commenced to drag the good name of Retief Goosen through the mud. I have a hunch the major-winning South African could out-drive a pair of girls not yet in high school. Make no mistake -- I think the analog swing is a vast improvement over the old-timey meter mechanics of previous generations, and I enjoyed playing the game despite my lack of skill.

Game well this holiday weekend, and may that big shadow not be another blasted sea bass.