Oui Wii

I am a latecomer to the world of Wii, my appetite for video games dying with Atari’s passing many years ago. For some reason, if the game’s champions and villains aren’t primitive low-res insects, monsters, or spaceships, they have no appeal to me.

So I was more than a little surprised when a box of Wii showed up at our door several weeks ago. Apparently, a neighbor had hooked my wife on Wii Fit. I set it up and she started Wii-ing like a teenager. It wasn’t long before she convinced me to give it a try.

I have to admit, I was impressed. Wii Fit sized me up immediately, gauging my weight and body mass index the moment I set foot on the Wii Balance Board. I set up a user profile and sampled the Yoga, strength training, and slalom skiing for fun. My praise for Wii notwithstanding, I had a nagging concern that Wii knew just a little too much about me. Among other things, it knew my height, weight, BMI, and the fact that I preferred the female virtual trainer over the male.

As much as I enjoyed my first Wii session, I procrastinated my follow-up. A couple weeks after my first and only Wii workout, my wife mentioned that Wii had been asking about me.

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Yes — Wii asked where you were” my wife replied.

I was astonished. Wii inquiring about my whereabouts seemed like some scary Twilight Zone episode — the kind that would keep you up all night with the covers pulled over your head for extra protection.

My wife continued: “yeah, Wii asked me how you looked too.”

“Seriously?” Now I was convinced she was joking.

“I’m serious! It wanted to know if you looked fit, heavy, etcetera,” she replied.

My wife thought it was funny. I found it disturbing. I considered unplugging Wii, but I instantly flashed on the Zone episode where Telly Savales tries to off the evil “Talky Tina” doll — with fatal consequences for Kojak.

It wasn’t sufficient that Wii had invaded my privacy. That night, it invaded my dreams. In my nightmare, my wife approached me, clearly concerned:

Wife: “Wii asked me to give you a message.”

Mii: “Yes?”

Wife: “Wii says for me to tell you that it only wants what is best for you…that and it wants to borrow the car and your credit card for the weekend.”

Mii: “What?”

Wife: “It says it wants to check out the new Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas.”

Mii: “How am I supposed to workout?”

Wife: “It says it will be staying at the Bellagio under the name ‘D. Moriarty’ — you can workout there.”

Mii: “Absolutely not! First it’s shows on the Strip. Next thing you know we’ll have to mortgage the house to cover Wii’s gambling debts. We have to set boundaries.”

Wife: (looking scared) “Honey, I think we should give Wii what it wants.”

I looked into my wife’s eyes and realized we were in serious trouble.

The moment I handed over my keys and Amex to Wii, I awoke from my nightmare. As if visited by some weird 21st century Dickens ghost, I was delighted to find Wii precisely where I’d left it, and not carousing the Strip. Having realized the error of my ways, I promised to honor Wii Fit in my heart (and abs), and try to keep it all the year. Ever since, my wife and I have both exercised faithfully and are in the best shape of our lives. Wii is very pleased with our progress and I am happy to report that the three of us are living happily together. I have nothing but praise for Wii and I encourage everyone to buy at least one (though Wii says that three or four would be better).

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