The Lovely Day of St. Valentines

St. Valentine’s Day is upon us once again. Now, almost everyone will agree that if you have a girlfriend this particular holiday is a great thing. You get a nice romantic night out, some smooching and a little bit of joy added to your life. Sans significant other, you’ll probably end up sitting at home alone in the dark watching depressing movies and crying yourself to sleep while the rest of the world laughs at your pitiful existence. Well, I defy this! Why should you spend your hard-earned money on roses that will die within a week? Why should you search the stores for chocolate that will only get your girlfriend to ponder the notions of her obesity, asking you the most loaded of questions, “Am I fat?” Why should you buy a stuffed animal that will only get its head ripped off when you break up?

I say forget all that stuff. If you don’t have someone this year, buy yourself a Dreamcast. If you don’t think that will help any, I submit to you the reasons why a Dreamcast is better than a girlfriend on Valentine’s Day.

The Dreamcast is cost effective. You shell out a few hundred bucks for the system and another hundred or so for some games. Those games will give you hours, nay, years of enjoyment. In the end, they pay for themselves. A girlfriend needs constant upkeep, not to mention reassurance and attention. Face it, the only names your girlfriend wants to hear whispered in her ears are those of dead presidents: Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, Grant, Cleveland …

To “turn on” a woman friend requires, shall we say, effort. Women need flowers, whispers of kindness, gifts and all that other mushy stuff that no guys really like to do — or are even suited to perform. If women don’t get that, they get cranky and take it out on you, which in turn makes you cranky. Who needs that? To turn on The Dreamcast only takes a second. Push a button and there it is, all ready to go. And even if you leave it off for months at a time, as soon as you push that button, it’s all set.

Since the dawn of time, men have been trying to figure out women. That’s like trying to calculate pi out to its final digit. It can’t be done. The Dreamcast is easy. Plug in the connections where they’re supposed to go; give it some juice; and it’s all ready. If something goes wrong, just jiggle the wires or, if all else fails, bring it in for repairs. (Women, oddly, tend to take offense when you tell them they’re broken.)

It would be nice if girlfriends came with personality chips that you could plug in whenever you wanted something different. They don’t. Dreamcasts do. If you don’t like one game, you pop it out and put in another. You can’t lend your girlfriends out. Well, some people do, but that’s not nice and again, girlfriends tend not to be fans of this. Dreamcasts, on the other hand, you can lend out. Your friends can use the system to their hearts content or until you storm over to their house and steal it back. Either way, both of you are happy.

Sometimes silence can be your best friend. Say you’re up late playing your Dreamcast, and you don’t want your parents to know. You hit that options button and mute everything. No one is the wiser. You can’t do this to your girlfriend when she gets riled up. Women do have something of an option button, but it’s not advisable to use it. The options are Loud and Really Loud.

When you have played all you want on the Dreamcast, and you don’t ever want to see it again, you can give it away, sell it or trash it. Not so with girlfriends. You can’t sell them (or at least you can’t get caught selling them). You can try giving them away, but that rarely works. And trashing them — well, that’s not a good thing. They’ll come back with a vengeance and wreak havoc in your life.

Now I know if there’s any women reading this, they are probably sharpening up their stakes and calling the Imagine Media offices to find out where I live. I’d like all the women out there to know that this was all in jest. I appreciate women. I’m one of the biggest fans of the female species. And I know that Dreamcasts can never totally replace women because there is one important job that only a true woman can perform for us. Who else would get us food and drinks when we tell them to? As unfortunate as it is, the Dreamcast isn’t quite up to that level yet.

So, all you guys out there without any girlfriends this Valentine’s Day — don’t feel bad. Go home, turn on your Dreamcast and play all the games you want. Your Dreamcast will treat you well. I, on the other hand, will be buying a plane ticket to somewhere far, far away.

Happy St. Valentine’s Day.

After this column, Mike fully expects to spend the rest of his life cold and alone hiding from all the women he’s offended. Sometimes silence can be your best friend. Say you’re up late playing your Dreamcast, and you don’t want your parents to know. You hit that options button and mute everything. No one is the wiser. You can’t do this to your girlfriend when she gets riled up. Women do have something of an option button, but it’s not advisable to use it. The options are Loud and Really Loud.

When you have played all you want on the Dreamcast, and you don’t ever want to see it again, you can give it away, sell it or trash it. Not so with girlfriends. You can’t sell them (or at least you can’t get caught selling them). You can try giving them away, but that rarely works. And trashing them — well, that’s not a good thing. They’ll come back with a vengeance and wreak havoc in your life.

Now I know if there’s any women reading this, they are probably sharpening up their stakes and calling the Imagine Media offices to find out where I live. I’d like all the women out there to know that this was all in jest. I appreciate women. I’m one of the biggest fans of the female species. And I know that Dreamcasts can never totally replace women because there is one important job that only a true woman can perform for us. Who else would get us food and drinks when we tell them to? As unfortunate as it is, the Dreamcast isn’t quite up to that level yet.

So, all you guys out there without any girlfriends this Valentine’s Day — don’t feel bad. Go home, turn on your Dreamcast and play all the games you want. Your Dreamcast will treat you well. I, on the other hand, will be buying a plane ticket to somewhere far, far away.

Happy St. Valentine’s Day.

After this column, Mike fully expects to spend the rest of his life cold and alone hiding from all the women he’s offended.

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