Salon.com > Todd Levin

Charles Atlas will make a man of you!

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 10:30:00 +0000

When Nintendo introduced the Wii Fit, most of its media coverage could be reduced to a loud, desperate cry for help: "Is this how we'll finally stop being so fat all the time?" When Ellen DeGeneres demonstrated its exercise benefits on her daytime talk show, then rolled out a skid of Wii Fits, one for every member of her largely female and over-40-and-lovin'-it studio audience, the reaction was so tearfully ecstatic that it was easy to forget this was just a video game and not the second coming of Fen-phen.

My own friends -- people who seemed almost morally opposed to fitness -- were drinking the Wii Kool-Aid, too. One male friend boasted, "I'm even doing yoga now, thanks to the Wii" -- a claim that sounds uncomfortably similar to, "My sex life has really improved, thanks to this new electric vagina."

Video-game-as-exercise-solution might seem like a needlessly complicated way of achieving a simple desired effect. But the hype and hope behind the Wii Fit corresponds nicely with the entire exercise and fitness industry, which seems predicated upon the idea that the only thing more satisfying than stating self-improvement goals is creating pricey obstacles for achieving them.

Dear Diary

Fri, 10 Dec 1999 17:00:00 +0000

Dec. 10, 1999

"I dunno ... I'm just a little weird today."
-- Oct. 18 Diaryland entry from "faded_mind"
While the Web seems to be slowly collapsing into a small, well-publicized group of uniform, corporate-sponsored networks (Snap, Go Networks, Lycos), online diaries have survived on the outside, occupying that Internet space where a level ground for publishing still exists. Minimal design skills are required; all you need is a healthy obsession and a modest amount of disk space on someone's Internet server. Online diaries are of course inconsistent in their quality, but they're also unrelenting in their honesty. If the bigger sites are starting to resemble major television networks, complete with the accompanying "same crap, different channel" feeling, online diaries are holding their position as the public-access programming of the Web.
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Joining the mod squad

Mon, 11 Jan 1999 20:00:00 +0000

You know you have a problem with something when you are willing to lie to enjoy it. For instance: On a recent Saturday afternoon, when my girlfriend asked what my plans were for the day, I grimaced and complained that my faultless self-discipline demanded that I spend a rare free weekend afternoon at home, working on some writing. A perfect lie -- untraceable and, indirectly, even ennobling.

In reality, I was headed downtown with my Sony PlayStation tucked furtively into my backpack between a change of clothes, destined for Manhattan's Chinatown. I was going to do something I had been told I should have done a long time ago. As I entered the nameless shop and slid the console across the counter, the clerk and I exchanged only four words in total. Me: "Mod chip." Him: "Cash only."

While there is an enormous market of gadgets for serious gamers -- from game-specific driving control pads to tricked-out gaming chairs with sperm-count-jeopardizing bass speakers positioned not coincidentally between the player's legs -- the most desirable piece of hardware for the PlayStation doesn't come blister-packed on friendly retail shelves. The mod chip, which has been around almost as long as the PlayStation itself, is a small piece of hardware. When soldered on the motherboard of your PlayStation, it overrides the "territory blocks" Sony Computer Entertainment imposes on all PlayStation units, effectively rendering your local unit "universal."