Thursday, November 27, 2003

'Tis blasphemy!

Have you seen the commercials for this? The game of Twister is now re-packaged to teach kids how to get their groove on. It's like that Japanese arcade game, Dance Dance Revolution, except tackier and with remixed songs by Nick Carter and his brother ... uh ... Little Nick Carter (and by 'remixed', I mean, "just as bad as the original, except the bass is just loud enough to give you erectile dysfunction"). So now, you too can dance, dance, DANCE! your buttocks off on a 3ft by 3ft square in the basement of your recently divorced parent. Who is getting increasingly impatient as he bribes you with Sour Patch Kids and midget horses in the custody battle of the century. Nice. Real nice ...

The point of the original game was, of course, to give you a reason to brush up against your crush, then land on top of him when you do your best London-Bridge-is-Falling-Down/Woman-On-Top impression. Twister Moves totally takes that away. While legs are a-spinnin', and hips are a-shakin', and heads are a-boppin', and hands are a-gropin', the likelihood of being suggestive to Mr. Pubescent goes down 70 points, while the likelihood of getting your face smashed in by a pair of Iversons from last season increases eight fold. So damn you Twister! Damn you to hell for trying to "improve" on the classic reason we go to parties in the first place! Why don't you fuck my soul and feed it to Tammy Faye while you're at it, you corporate bastards!

Oh, and changing the colour of the board from virginal white to menacing black won't get you any new customers. Everyone already knows the people playing these games are whores. I mean, why else would a chick with mangoes end up with double "D" casabas at an after-school get-together? Yeah, to sell her fruit, that's what. And by changing the colour of the mat, parents will now get suspicious:

"I dunno, Donna ... the mat doesn't look too promising. I'm suspicious as to what it's doing here in Merv the Perv's cellar, of all people."

Forget the ass-floss stickin' out of Sherry's low-rise jeans. Don't even bother wondering why Lois has that healthy layer of lipgloss for some good ol' fashioned fly trapping. And you can just ignore the falsie-nipples worn underneath Joanna's semi-sheer bikini. The time has come for parents to realise once and for all that Twister is Satan. Once it leaves the box, your daughter's modesty will too. And as they spread open the plastic sheet, their legs will follow. You have been forewarned ...

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