Mega Man
Ah, Mega Man. How far you have fallen since your heyday on Nintendo’s NES system. I used to watch you battle blocks of primary colors with small balls of other primary colors while melodic three chord tones sang your praises from my T.V. speaker.
Now I watch you douchebag.
Oh, Mega Man, tell me it isn’t true. Tell me that your “Behind the Music” cliche fall from grace after the Playstation was released didn’t lead you to this sorry state you now find yourself in. Cashing in on your late 80s fame and hoping you can still get the occasional hottie like The Feldman or The Haim.
Say it ain’t so, Mega Man.
You were glorious in your prime. A digital pixelated killing machine. And now you are scrote. And with it, another hero of my childhood dies. Like Alan Thicke and Screech, you are my post-modern media saturated Rosebud sled. I weep for you Mega Man, because I weep for my lost childhood.
