Angry For Really No Reason

It's no surprise after a childhood of playing videogames, watching professional wrestling, reading comic books, embracing obesity, and wearing sweat pants that I grew up to be such a well rounded and socially adjusted adult. What is surprising is that fifteen years later, the only thing that's really changed about me is I wear a lot less sweat pants and drink much more whiskey. I traded up.

Anyways, earlier tonight I had one of those childhood, nostalgic yearnings. You know the kind. You are sitting there, partaking in some sort of something, and a wave of 'the good old times' hits you. Memories fill your head of times before you realized the seven Dr Peppers you drank each day would go straight to your hips; before you realized the girl you crushed on was way out of your league in third grade then grew up to be a suspected lesbian; and before you realized that Hulk Hogan probably really couldn't beat up the giant black man with one crazy eye.

It happened as I played Punch Out (downloaded for a rip-off but worth it price of $5 on my Wii). Mike Tyson may no longer be in the game (silly rapist), but Soda Pop and King Hippo are, which makes the world okay. And I as I punched Glass Joe to the mat in all my 52 inch opulent, American glory, it occurred to me why nostalgia exists.

Because we know, no matter what, our old favorite videogames, movies, and music are never going to hog tie their wife, smother their mentally handicapped son, and hang themselves with the pullies from their weight machine. That's why.