Parents! Co-workers! Luvahs!

Watch for the warning signs of Tetris addiction. Though we are past the crisis stage that sent drooling, brain-fried addicts to hospitals in the late ’90s, many who are still hooked on the game (called on the street by many names including the “Slowly Dropping Dragon” and “Block Party”) wait in dark corners, ready to grab Tetris money from you, or exchange nasty handjobs for “Lines.”

Help a brother out. And IN… to rehab. The warning signs follow:

Hand Cramps

Does Little Johnny have claw-like, crampy hands that are more talon than talented? Does he hate it when you call him “Little Johnny” because his name is actually Timmy? Your child may have The Tetris. Are these misshapen appendages in the mold of slimy lobster-grabbers that would otherwise be holding a Game Boy? You have cause for alarm. Somebody should fucking report you.

Compulsive Arranging

Everyone loves it when the little woman cleans up the underwear and foodstuffs, but have you noticed she’s cleaning up only rectangular, L- or square-shaped items? Does your wife walk right past shirts on the floor on her way to stack shipping boxes against the wall? Who the Hell did you just marry? Were you high? Your wife has the sickness. We may have to put her down. With death. Thank God she wasn’t a grocery bagger or a valet parker.

Tetris Tourette’s

Listen for this sound: “SHIT! No, no, no, no, no FUCK!” That is the haunting squebulation (look it up. It’s a word. Wait, no it’s not.) of the damned. That is a poor fool, Edgar, the nice mailroom intern you just hired, making a bad move and watching his screen fill up with chock-a-block. Don’t look back! He’s gone and there’s nothing you can do for him! Shoot him! Shoot him in the head! Or call us. We are happy to do it for you.

Eyes of Gray

The elderly. How they make us laugh with their chewing. Chew, Grandma, chew! But Grandma has been playing Tetris since before you were born. She was playing it before there even was a Tetris, massaging the laws of time to feed her craven blocklust. Look into her eyes. They have faded to pale silver, having seen all there is to see of this wicked charade called life, which she wasted on the Devil’s Game. How she found time to spit your mother from that vagina we will never know.

Going Russian

We have not mentioned the Russkies till now because it should be obvious that as an American, you should be on the watch for any suspicious signs of Communist activity. But maybe you missed the memo. The memo that was drilled into your yellowing teeth. Tetris escaped from a secret lab in the bowels (literal human bowels) of the Kremlin itself. It is a tool of persuasion and evil. Look into the mirror. Are those red eyes you see? Are you humming the Tetris theme while thinking how great it would be for there to be universal health care? You bastard! You addict! The President has been informed and the missiles are on their way. Happy trails, Comrade. Enjoy our hot nuclear fire!