I got a Nintendo DS some time ago, because I read or saw some news report stating that people in my age group are urged to play video games to help maintain mental sharpness and reflexes.

Since I’m all for the kind of health treatments that involve me having fun, I’ve been increasingly involving myself in the world of handheld gaming, both as a hobby and as a way to keep sharp.

My only problem lately is that I’ve had the overwhelming urge to wear a single, spangled glove. Also, I swear that as I walk down the sidewalk, the tiles of concrete are actually lighting up for me. And getting into the shower is not just a simple step but a dramatic kick and step.

And what is causing these strange feelings?

I’m developing an obsession for The Michael Jackson Experience, a video game for the DS. At first, being an old-school gamer from the days of the original Nintendo system, I was hesitant to buy the game at all, because I couldn’t figure out exactly how the music of a legendary pop mega-star could be used for video game. However it was done, I figured, would be stupid and something of an insult to the music of an artist who had a lot to do with shaping my formative years.

Against my better judgment, I purchased the game, anyway, because I figured at least I could enjoy the music of the king of pop on my DS until I got sick of it and traded it in. But as I’ve worked my way through a few songs like “Billie Jean,” “Bad” and “Heal the World,” I’ve discovered that I simply can’t stop ‘til I get enough of this game.

I justify this new obsession by reminding myself that I am doing wonders for my mental sharpness and reflexes. But the more I look at the man in the mirror, the more I realize the way this game makes me feel.

The Michael Jackson Experience is not just a game, it is in fact an experience that transforms me into M.J. himself. So rather than beating myself up about how I just can’t stop loving this game, I accept that it is human nature to give in to such a stimulating experience.

My concern is that I will fall too deeply into the abyss of The Michael Jackson Experience. So I am counting on you good people of Suffolk to help me with yet another vice: keeping me from falling head over glittery socks for one thriller of a video game.

If you should see me biting my bottom lip and moving my head rhythmically as I’m standing in line at the store, give me a little tap to snap me out of it. If I should mention that I long for my bald head to again be plentiful with hair, solely for the purpose of growing a nice juicy, Jheri curl, find a nice stick and slap me with it.

And for goodness sakes, if you should see me out in public with a red multi-zippered jacket, with Macauley Culkin on one arm and a monkey named Bubbles wrapped around my neck, please contact the nearest addiction prevention center, or perhaps Quincy Jones.

Be sure to tell them that, in my attempts to stay sharp in my advancing years, I was spun, kicked and moonwalked into the sad trap of The Michael Jackson experience.