Fluffy Don't Know Jack

  Sorry, gang, but video games are not an art form.

      If you truly believe they are, please call Purolator and arrange to send me bags of money. In return, I will mail you my old Atari games. I spent countless hours playing Taxi.

      Sadly for your argument, it is an irrefutable fact that Rodin was paid for his sculptures and they fetch many times that price today. Similarly, Cezanne's watercolours had value in their day, and much more so now.

       True art, you see, is a creative product of its time and place, and is of such import and effect that it shimmers with importance through years, decades, centuries, and millenia.

      Today's jaw-dropping video game, by comparison, is merely tomorrow's garage sale item. No matter the breath-taking graphics, steely dialogue, or myriad virtual paths, the video game you so pantingly venerate today will soon be nothing more than a cheesy and dusty discard.

       The video game itself as an art form? Perhaps.

        But video games? No chance in virtual hell.

The End

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