I love the fact that despite all of our collective endeavors to grow civilized behavior, despite all of our attempts to subdue the basic primal urges that live within us, or control impulses that would drive us, despite all our protestations to the contrary….we are still not much more evolved than feral animals with base instincts.
Oh sure, you may think that because we wear a suit and tie, or a nice dress with perfectly coiffed hair, or sip a cup of $5.00 coffee from time to time, that we are now civilized, controlled, mature, and enlightened. But we kid ourselves.
Case and Point: Whack-A-Mole.
Now, it’s easy to see why kids love the game. What’s not to love? For the duration of their childhood, kids are commanded not to hit, not to hurt others, not to be loud or aggressive unless in sports…. or unless they are playing Whack-A-Mole. I mean, come on. The entire premise of the game is to see how many moles you can whack on the head with a mallet!
And man is it fun!
But it’s one thing to watch a kid let it loose, to let their savage natures breathe.
It’s quite another to see a grown up do it.
That is the part I love. The next time you are at Hershey Park, or a Carnival, or the Boardwalk in Rehoboth, I urge you to sit back and watch the grown ups play Whack-A-Mole. It’s quite a part different from watching them play any other rip-off carnival game.
You’ll see flailing. You’ll see leaping. You’ll hear growling, yelling, and maybe even cursing. You’ll see a lot of laughing. And when its done, you will observe that the players walk away happier and more relaxed.
Apparently there is something very cathartic to us humans in whacking the crap out of something.
I wish Whack-A-Mole games were as ubiquitous as Starbucks in our society. I guarantee you the number of violent crimes would go down.
And don’t even get me started on the psychological implications of pinatas.