some fun they're having with short imagined monologues, a wide open, revolving cast project over at mcsweeney's. michael nelson price's recent submission - no son of mine plays oregon trail like that - is a pretty great our-generation-specific piece, and there's loads more. from price's oregon trail:
Can't you see that Oregon Trail is a microcosm of life? I'm sure you've seen my high score on the computer: 8,040 points. Did you know that for years people considered 8,000 points impossible? You don't get a score like that by playing it safe and taking the banker. You get a score like that by selecting the farmer, purchasing only oxen and ammo, setting a "grueling" pace, and feeding your party "bare-bones" rations.
How many gold medals would Michael Phelps have won if all he cared about was making it across the pool? How many championships would Jordan have if all he'd wanted to do was dribble the ball down the court? Sure, you can make it across the country in relative comfort. But let me ask you this: How many spare wagon wheels do you think Michael Phelps takes with him? Why not push a naked, starving family to the brink of collapse and hunt your ass off for food all the way to Oregon? Isn't that what Jordan would do? [continue]
other imagined genius: it was i who flipped over the risk board last night // a pep talk for the new pair of shorts i will wear everyday this summer
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