No More Acid for the Japanese

I'm just sitting here with my PS2 controller, watching my video game alter ego roll over canned coffees and organ monkeys and toilet paper and croissants and lipsticks and superglue and water pistols and mah-jongg pieces and mice and newspapers and bottles of detergent, and in the back of my head, like a dull pulse, is a constant "What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck."

The game is called Katamari Damacy and it's epic. It's a monument in the history of nonsense, a glorious nod to lysergic acid diethylamide, and it's probably nothing else.

Here is its premise.

You are the son of the King of the Cosmos (let's not even get into how he's dressed). This King has managed to knock all of the stars out of the sky, and you need to replace them. You do this by rolling up stuff with a sticky ball, which the King then shoots into the sky.

That's it, and it's baffling me.

My problem is that I can't really believe that the game exists. The nonsense is astronomical (no bad pun intended) and I can't believe that it could ever be harnessed, coming to life in a little disc. It's making my eyes cross.

I'm about to roll down the biggest fucking pants in the universe with my little sticky psychedelic crisis, and all I can do is hope that, against all odds, it doesn't snowball.