For those of you who bought multiple consoles with the the primary purpose to sell them at bloated prices, you guys are horrible. As a 34 year old who grew up with the real NES (which was $99.99 at the time, mind you), you people are what is wrong with this country, especially during the holidays. Everyone wants to make money off someone else's misery. In this case, not being able to play the games of our childhood. Sure, we can log into websites, wait frantically for that "Buy Now" button to turn yellow, only after pressing refresh so many times that our fingers are sore and our nerves are shot. But ah...when we finally see that button light up, it is Christmas, alright. Sitting in my pajamas, wiping the sleep out of my eyes with one hand while trying desperately to purchase just one of these bad boys in the hopes of delighting the little girl that has been dormant inside me for all things nostalgic. "They" took away Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and made it some strange CGI monstrosity. What they have done to Strawberry Shortcake is a crime, and don't get me started on what has happened to My Little Pony, which has turned into something disgustingly sexualized and just plain wrong. Where are the other 80s babies? It's unacceptable to have some hipster from Brooklyn making us pay upwards of $300 on Amazon for something that Nintendo should have given us a long time ago. But ahhh...that is where my real anger lies. Nintendo has done to us what is un-American and downright inhumane. They have forced us to turn on each other by dripping these consoles like a runny nose on a cold December morning. What is wrong with you, Nintendo? Surely you knew that these consoles would have caused a major uproar. You knew what you were doing. It's like, you took us out on a first date, turned out to be the tall, handsome guy with a smile that made us say, "Oh my god," and talked with us until 3 in the morning, only to give us an incredible kiss at the end of the evening, making us believe in love again, making our hearts beat with hot red gushing blood, making us stay awake all night so that we were useless the rest of the weekend, and then we never saw you again. You left us breathless with want as we tried in vain to harass the employees of Best Buy, WalMart, Game Stop and Target. These poor employees saw us coming, 30-something year olds, some of us dragging whiny children through the aisles, some of us bleary eyed and slack jawed, clutching bottles of water and our purses like we were in the desert, sweat on our brow as we fought the other disgruntled customers, only to find out that, "Nope, we're sold out. We only received six consoles." And guess who bought those six consoles? The employees of said store. Trying our luck online was no better. We are trapped. If we want to play the games we were brought up on, we are forced to pay gouged-out prices. Otherwise, it's back to other, more modern games via our consoles or Steam. Five year old me is throwing a silent tantrum in my room, upending furniture, screaming into my pillow, tears flowing down the sides of my face as I stare wontonly up at the ceiling. Only this time, I can't blame my mom. I can't blame my little sister. I can't even blame the stupid cartridges that I had to blow into to get to work, as if I was breathing the very lifeforce of my being into them. I blame Nintendo. You guys let us down. BIG TIME. You have an entire task force of people whose job is to anticipate your consumers and the market. You KNEW this would be the must-have item of the season, yet you marched out to the ice cream man, bought 6 Ninja Turtle sherbert popsicles with the gum ball eyes, and gave them to the six brattiest kids you could find, while the rest of us stand on the curb watching them eat those popsicles. Some of us are throwing our grossest Garbage Pail Kid cards at them in the hopes they get a massive paper cut. Some of us are furiously eating Pop Rocks, hoping they'll drop one so we can scoop it up. Some of us are actually bargaining with them, trading all our He-Man and She-Ra and Thundercat action figures, our most prized possessions. And then there are some of us who will mount our Rainbow Brite bikes, give one last long, withering glance, and ride off into the sunset until our moms call us in for dinner.