GTA IV

Here's another anecdote in our car obsessed culture:

As an eleven year old boy, I walked .8 miles to Scotty's yogurt shop on Whitney Ave., put a quarter in a video console, and maneuvered my Pacman around a grid eating yellow dots while avoiding furry monsters.

Today, my eleven year old boy can choose between a $20 dollar hand job or $40 blow job from a prostitute in Grand Theft Auto IV, dome the bitch afterwards with his 9mm, and evade the bacon down Franklin Blvd. in his pimped out '72 Pacer.