Talking Point: As A Nintendo Fan, Do You Really Need To Play The Virtual Boy?

Oh boy.

It’s Christmas morning, and amidst the thick haze of food already cooking for lunch and the soothing laughter of our children enjoying their new toys, my wife approaches me with a small, square package. I hadn’t seen this under the tree. “That’s your last one,” she says. I instinctively go to shake it – she knows me well enough to catch my wrist. “Don’t do that!” she interjects. Clearly this is an item of some delicacy.

I unwrap it carefully, and as I slip the box free of its decorative coat, I am filled with both giddy elation and a crushing sense of shame: Shame at the sheer averageness of the gifts I have offered her this year compared to the magnificence I hold in my hands; elated, because said magnificence is a boxed, Japanese copy of Mario’s Tennis for the Virtual Boy with manual inside. It’s a Christmas miracle. Eat your heart out, Dickens.

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