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UOIIAIU
Any self-respecting geek in his 30s — and, yeah, okay, sure, I’m giving away my demographic a little bit here — has long been an expert in the art of locating a good game room while you’re on the road. When you’re stuck in an international airport waiting a red-eye, there are few better ways to dull the existential pain of life than to blow the hell outta green-blooded aliens in a nice stand-up cabinet edition of Area 51. Or perhaps re-sample the utterly sisyphean delights of Ms. Pac-Man. (Or perhaps muse on the next super-fey comment for your blog. Hey, how about that, asshole? “Sisyphean”? Get over yourself.)
Anyway. While there’s no joy so subtle as a well-stocked game room, the sad fact is most of them are horribly neglected. Many are the times I’ve hopefully wandered into a hotel game room, only to discover a sordid collection of the lamest possible games in existence, like Superman or Altered Beast or whatever. But clearly I’ve never hit the true bottom of the barrel. Over at X-Entertainment, Matt has discovered what is surely “The Worst Game-Room Ever”, complete with pix. I quote:
The evil game room, save for two newer soda machines, doesn’t seem to have had any renovations for nearly a decade. Hasn’t been cleaned, either. In a place like Atlantic City, where every footprint is marked by residual puddle water and dog shit, the fact that the game room hadn’t been vacuumed since 1971 puts it at the mound with one strike already against it.
Make sure you scroll down to see the pictures of the dispensing slot of the ice-cream machine. I still can’t eat.
I'm Clive Thompson, a writer on science, technology, and culture. This blog collects bits of offbeat research I'm running into, and musings thereon.
Currently, I'm a contributing writer for the New York Times Magazine and a columnist for Wired magazine. I also write for Fast Company and Wired magazine's web site, among other places. Email or AOL IM me (pomeranian99) to say hi or send in something strange!
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» visit the Collision Detection archives
September 26, 2008 » 01:57 PM
From an interview with ethnobotanist and anthropologist Wade Davis:
One of the cultures you celebrate in Light at the Edge of the World is the Inuit. What do you most admire about them?
Davis: The Inuit didn’t fear the cold; they took advantage of it. During the 1950s the Canadian government forced the Inuit into settlements. A family from Arctic Bay told me this fantastic story of their grandfather who refused to go. The family, fearful for his life, took away all of his tools and all of his implements, thinking that would force him into the settlement. But instead, he just slipped out of an igloo on a cold Arctic night, pulled down his caribou and sealskin trousers, and defecated into his hand. As the feces began to freeze, he shaped it into the form of an implement. And when the blade started to take shape, he put a spray of saliva along the leading edge to sharpen it. That’s when what they call the “shit knife” took form. He used it to butcher a dog. Skinned the dog with it. Improvised a sled with the dog’s rib cage, and then, using the skin, he harnessed up an adjacent living dog. He put the shit knife in his belt and disappeared into the night.
September 25, 2008 » 11:21 AM
“Video from a camp north of Toronto in December 2005 shows a car spinning around in a nearby, snow-covered parking lot. Prosecutors characterized that as special driver training but the defense, and many outsiders, said it was nothing more than “cutting doughnuts,” a favorite winter pastime of young Canadian motorists.” - A key piece of evidence submitted in the trial of a gang of alleged young Canadian terrorists.
September 24, 2008 » 11:21 PM
“Life imitates art imitating life: just thought a gnat crawling across my monitor was part of a Flash-based ad. I clicked it.” - A Tweet from Bill Braine.
September 24, 2008 » 02:37 PM
“Funniest FB friend request ever: “Twitter friend hoping to get to second base (Facebook!) ;-).”” - A recent Tweet by Pistachio
September 24, 2008 » 12:28 PM
Chinese powdered-milk crisis creates a new market: The return of the wet nurse
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