Review, The Nintendo Wii

When Christmas rolled around, I was going to buy this for myself. I bought a smart phone instead. Now the Wii remains at the periphery of my perception. I have yet to see one in person, except once in the distance in a bar, surrounded by happy drunken twenty somethings. I heard secondhand that the sensor had broken and the bar owner rigged up two candles for the Wii to use to triangulate itself. What a strange contraption. Can you imagine fixing a Playstation 3 with candles? Even pioneers had that shit. If you went back in time and your Wii’s sensor broke, a guy who was driving a horse and buggy past your time machine would have the parts you needed to repair it.
You would still be sad, though, because only Ben Franklin would have the electricity to run it, and he kept it closely guarded in an ornate box with a quill pen and his lucky wig.
I hear about the Wii often. My roommate’s girlfriend got one. Old people are apparently playing them in the nursing homes. Always just in my proximity. Always just at the edge of consciousness, like a persistent memory of a girl whose hand you held in the back of a car and then never saw again.
Even though it is a nationally advertised product with several games made for it already, for me The Wii occupies a borderland, an ethereal in between place, a shadow that tugs at the mind.
Also, I hear that it plays GameCube games.

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