Simpsons: Krusty’s Super Funhouse

I wasn’t allowed to watch the Simpsons growing up. Boy, I hated my parents for it, but it did me a lot of good. A LOT of good. Here’s why:

1. When they decided it wasn’t okay, we watched an episode as a family and talked after about how it was offensive and stuff. I tried to defend it, but my parents taught me that day to pay attention to what I was watching, and I’m not sure if I’d be as media-literate as I like to pretend I am if it hadn’t happened.

2. In high school, my entire group of friends (and most of my high school) supplanted an actual sense of humour with Simpsons quotes. I developed a distaste for comedy based on reference, and I think it made me try extra-hard to be a funny dude without memorizing other people’s jokes. My last two years I was at teh head of the school’s improv team (which did pretty damn well one year and would’ve made the nationals if we hadn’t been shafted by two judges on one event that was genius and the crowd loved but they decided was too edgy or something — I guess that’s why they call it risk-taking — but that’s another story for another day).

So playing this game is irritating. It reminds me of the annoyance and embarrassment caused by not being plugged into the pop culture landscape of my youth. It reminds me of the idiots who thought it was funnier to say something Ralph Wiggum said than, say, actually find the humour in everyday situations and synthesize it into a decent delivery. It reminds me of Ralph Wiggum in general, the worst part of a not-very-good show (yeah, I went back and watched some — it wasn’t that good when people were saying “it was good”).

It definitely didn’t help that the game is shit. I spent a good hour with it and couldn’t even really figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do.

So, yeah. This game can eat my shorts.

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