War: What Is It Good For?

Paddy and I will pass the paddle back and forth politely tonight. He has taken the liberty of reinstating a dormant Xbox Live account and purchasing World at War at the local 7-11, thus ushering the two of us into a new kind of hell: a virtual World War II, where tanks, dogs and bloody avatars respawn in a nightmarish loop of destruction and dismemberment.

This is where we are at our best, versus ten to fifteen year old boys. Make no mistake, the fact that they are younger does not mean that they are less experienced. In fact, it's probably the contrary; they're more in tune with a machine like the 360 (the most exciting product on the planet), for technology and human evolution are tied together nowadays. The younger half-generation is not impressed; imagine if instead of Sonic the Hedgehog you got Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 for your 9th birthday. Things would be a little different. This is where he and I become a team. Tonight we'll drink for every 69 or 420 in a handle, for every dog stabbed, for every multiple grenade kill, for every time Kiefer screams something about artillery.

I don't think we'll use the headset tonight, as Paddy pointed out it makes you look like Bill Cower when you're wearing it. It's okay, though, the Xbox is our friend again this evening. After D-day (not June 6, 1944, but the day we lost connectivity with the Playstation Network), we were honorably discharged from COD4, but let's face it: There was no way we would be able to function in society after the things we'd seen. As far as the 360 goes, we haven't had this type of bro-excitement on the Snowblower since back on Huron Street, when I first bought Call of Duty 2, and we'd spike Nazi heads from several hundred meters away with that brutal bolt action rifle, the Lee-Enfield.

These men and women fought bravely so that I could sit and laugh at this ultra-violent game with my buddy. Sad irony!