Dear White, Egg-Laying Angry Bird

You SHOULD look embarrassedYou worthless piece of shit, you. You have one job to do: to lay an explosive egg when I tap on the screen. That’s it. One job. And, lately, you have been failing at that far too often for my tastes. Indeed, if you were an egg-laying hen–if I owned egg-laying hens–I would have killed you and thrown you in a gumbo long ago based on your unreliable production.

Does this happen with Yellow Bird, or Black Bomb Bird or Blue Glass-Bashing Bird(s)? No. Never. Even your more-useless brethren, the Boomerang Toucan, performs every time I tap the screen that second time.

So what, exactly, is your deal? Do you not feel like laying? Perhaps your egg is fertilized and you don’t want to lose your child? Tough titties! You’re on a suicide mission to begin with, so don’t give me any lip. Hell, it’s not like your precious explosive egg is all that useful. It doesn’t do much but make noise. Your spent, eggless body, on the other hand, makes for an effective brick-and-wood bashing projectile.

BUT I CAN’T GET THAT UNLESS YOU LAY THE DAMN EGG WHEN I TAP THE SCREEN.

You’re attention to this matter would be greatly appreciated.

Respectfully,

Ken Wheaton

p.s. Please excuse the coarse language, but the game does awaken a passion inside of me not seen since the original Pitfall Harry.

Up Next on Intervention: Ken Wheaton

I blame my stepsister for this. She’s the one who started it. She’s the one who said, “Go ahead. Try it. It’s free.”

I’d resisted earlier attempts from others to try it. Besides, they were simply a bunch of addicted chuckleheads themselves, the sort of people who spend hours on Twitter talking about social media talking about marketing and engaging–obviously the sorts who had no personal lives worth mentioning, whose interior landscapes were empty voids waiting to be occupied by anything.

But my stepsister got me.
Continue reading “Up Next on Intervention: Ken Wheaton”