Last night, I discovered that the game that I've spent the past three-quarters of a year playing no longer runs. I popped it into the tray and a message appeared on my Xbox, "Could Not Read Disk." Considering, I had poured almost 100 hours into the single-player campaign, spec ops co-operative missions and multiplayer modes, you would think I'd be angry.  Surprisingly, that's not the case. In fact, I'm strangely relieved. I no longer feel the calling of new camos and perks. What had turned into a full fledged addiction is out of my life and I have no intention of bringing it back. I could easily spend five dollars at the local Blockbuster to use their disk-repair service, but I don't think I will. Instead, I urge my fellow "bros" to join me outside. Play some baseball, skip some rope. It's time to take back our lives from Modern Warfare. I mean, at least until next week when I get bored again.