When your wife yells at you:
“Another video game? You bought another video game? We need a new sofa and you bought another fucking video game???”
You hold up your hand, palm out, and in a very calm voice, your best Ted Talk voice, you say:
“It’s for the kids.”
Of course, it’s all bullshit, it’s not for the kids, the kids would not be allowed anywhere near such a video game. But she doesn’t know that so it mollifies her a bit, but not enough. She yells:
“The kids don’t need more video games, that’s all they do all fucking day is play fucking video games! They don’t do sports, they don’t even leave the fucking house unless it’s to go to school and only because if they don’t the school police will knock down the door and haul them away!”
Faced with this irrefutable logic, which also happens to be true, your scheming brain starts working overtime to see what plausible new bullshit you can sling her way. And you have an epiphany, you hit upon a sure-fire, guaranteed-or-your-money-back way to jedi her into believing your blatant lies, you say:
“This one is educational”.
You drop that shit like Obama dropping the mic. It gives her pause. She wants to scratch your eyes out but she can’t because you just dropped the educational bomb, you just invoked the highest deity in the household pantheon. So she pauses, just on the brink of removing your left eyeball. But she’s not stupid and too many years around you have rendered her inmune to your wily ways, she can smell something rotten in the state of Denmark and it smells uncannily like bullshit. Yet, kind soul that she is, she wants to trust you so she asks with extreme suspicion and disbelief:
Aha, now it’s your time to shine, your time to let that silvery, forked tongue fly with its lies and dissension, to spin a web of lies so thick, even Charlotte would get lost in it. But you don’t. Because that would be too much, she would see through it instantly, often less is more, so you say:
“It teaches them all about anatomy”.
She’s not convinced, but she’s losing energy, she’s losing her will to fight, you seize the opportunity and you pounce:
“Anatomy and all about physics, it’s awesome!”
She’s against the ropes, her defence is down, she’s unsure, resolve is leaking out of her like a sieve. You take the knockout punch:
“And besides, it was on sale.”
And, with that, you drive the final nail in the coffin. For nothing, nothing is more sacred to a woman than a sale! A sale is the Unicorn of retail. A sacred and venerable spirit to be adored, that only comes down to bless us once in a blue moon. The only thing more holy and sacred than a sale is a shoe sale.
She retreats, defeated, licking her wounds to fight another day. You’ve won this one, but only barely. Next time it won’t be so easy. But that’s then and this is now. Now you rejoice in your new-found triumph, knowing that you barely escaped with your life and, more important, were able to get away with buying an 18+ video game that is neither educational nor for the kids. In fact, it’s pretty gruesome. The physics and anatomy aluded to in your carefully spun web of horseshit amounts to seeing the damage a bullet does to internal organs in graphic slow motion. Check it out: Sniper Elite
Yes, it’s pretty gruesome, but it’s ok because the enemy are all Nazis, and everyone knows that killing Nazis is the best righteous pastime in the world.