You gotta love that domain.
Check it . . . a Venn diagram that has gone viral:
My husband says I’m a nerd-girl. This proves I’m actually a geek, but I think I have some nerd nuances.
I mean, here’s an example of my social ineptitude. It’s not a regular occurence. But when it happens, its eventful.
Charles Darrow is the name we credit for the Monopoly board game. Sometime in the early 1930’s he obtained his patent and Parker Brothers began to produce the game and the rest is history.
Well, revised history, that is. See, I’ve had a quiet admiration for Mr. Darrow – such a simple premise for a game, well-suited for the life and times of the 30’s. It may have been the Depression, but when depressed, what better way to deal with it than to fantasize about being a land-owning tycoon? But he kept obvious current events out of the actual game – and so we have a classic board game that just about every American has played. And more importantly, has bought.
But it turns out that Charles Darrow actually capitalized on a game that had been made 30 years prior by a Quaker woman named Elizabeth Magie. Here’s where the story begins to read like an adventure novel for a geek such as me.
Henry George was the man. Henry George was an unexpected economist and, as John Dewey claims, “It is the thorough fusion of insight into actual facts and forces, with recognition of their bearing upon what makes human life worth living, that constitutes Henry George one of the world’s great social philosophers.”
As far as I am aware, he didn’t have a whole lot of formal education. In fact, a significant amount of his life was in poverty. He was well-traveled, worked primarily as a journeyman printer, but also had a whole slew of jobs – taking whatever he could get when he needed work. He had an incredible eye for the effects ofpolitical and economic dynamics on social systems. Couple this with the fact that he lived in a time where industrial society was progressing rapidly, you have a guy who can give a keen insight into the effects of progress on the poor.
And that’s exactly what he did. His most famous work, Progress and Poverty, was birthed from his observation that the poor in rural areas fared better than the poor in cities. In a nutshell, he noted that the majority of productive labor didn’t benefit from their toil. On the other end of the class spectrum were the landowners and monopolists who were able to extract for themselves the majority of the wealth born from technological advances.
If you’ve taken economics, you’ve heard the concept of economic rent – the difference between what a factor of production (land, labor, capital) costs and what it would cost to remain in use. A simplistic example would be a movie star. They get paid 10 million dollars for a movie, when the would have done it for 2 million (yeah right, but let’s keep going). That star’s economic rent is then 8 million dollars. Henry George submitted that this would be unearned income for the movie star, and as such, could be taxed without affecting the real economy.
Of course, his examples were not movie stars and music celebrities but those who owned the factors of production. In his day and time, the backbone of developing society were the very tangible resources of property, labor, and industrial technology. He observed that not only were the working poor (labor) not being adequatelycompensated for their work, but they also had restricted access to resources. For instance, it costs much more for the poor in a city to obtain groceries than it did for a rural poor family who could at least grow some of their own food. Mr. George’s proposal was that land should become common property and subject to a single (federal) tax that would become the sole source of government revenues, thereby eliminating the taxes that distorted wealth and kept the poor, well, poor.
Sort of a cool idea as the tax revenue would increase with the growth of the economy instead of individual accomplishment.
He published his book in 1879 and it was an instant triumph and the single tax theory entered American economical discourse.
I’d like to do that someday. Not be an economist. I want to publish an instant triumph.
Amen.
But back to the game. Remember Elizabeth Magie? Lizzie Magie was a Quaker and a student of Henry George’s. A few years after his death she created a game to teach Georgist economic theory, particularly single tax theory. She called it The Landlord’s Game and it became a popular folk game in Quaker society.
“A vonderful goot game!”
Wait, that’s Dutch Blitz . . . I love games. Especially the violent war that comes from this good Amish game. At least among my good society.
Back to the story . . .
The Landlord’s Game was the embryonic version of the modern Monopoly game. Ms. Magie obtained her patent in 1904 and the game became a sort of underground classic in the Northeast. It was common for players to personalize the rules and board design. As a result a similar, yet distinct game, Prosperity, was created. In 1924, clever Ms. Magie got a patent for that one, too. The popularity of both games grew . . . and they also continued to morph. Players continued to tweak the rules and some even gained their own patents. ”Monopoly” became the most used term for these clusters of games. In 1932, Dan Laymen obtained a patent for the most common offspring of Landlord’s, calling it Finance because the name “Monopoly” at that time was considered public domain.
Mr. Laymen taught the game to a Ms. Hoskins, and this Ms. Hoskins taught the game to Charles Todd. As it was passed through these few, the game board and rules were refined. Charles Todd added his own polishings, resulting in a brilliant little game. He had an old friend named Charles Darrow. The two Charles’ and their wives came together one night for dinner and a movie. Er, I mean, dinner and a game. The Todds taught the game to the Darrows and the two couples played it most of the night. Mr. Darrow loved it so much he requested a copy of the rules from Mr. Todd . . . and as the legend goes, Mr. Darrow then ended his friendship with Mr. Todd. Was it because he was a cold-hearted thief of ideas? Or was it coincidence that the end of the friendship occurred after Mr. Darrow obtained the rules? Depends on how cynical you are, I guess. I like to believe that Mr. Todd went on to purchase Parker Brothers.
Because that’s who Darrow went to. He had to shift some things and take care of some stale patents on earlier versions of the game, but eventually, the game sold and he was named as its inventor. Sort of. Parker Brothers still spent a few years ensuring they weren’t involved in any sort of copyright infringement. Once they were confident the game was entirely their’s – production took off. Somewhere along the way Hasbro obtained the game. However, that story isn’t nearly as interesting.
Long story, long post . . and if you made it this far, you’ll be glad to know that I have a purpose in telling this tale. Although it is, in the grand scheme of things, a pointless one. But that’s why I have a little corner of the blogosphere . . . to spare my husband.
Monopoly still finds a way to adapt to a rapidly changing society – so we have tourism-centered versions, local and state versions, celebrity versions (my kids love the Disney one, please, someone steal it), and plenty of et ceteras that showcase Americana.
I think I will have to buy this one.
And now . . .
drum roll . . . hold your breath in anticipation, please . . .
Google has Monopoly.
Ok, you knew that. But I’m talking about the actual game. I’m not aware that any patents have exchanged hands, but goodbye board game and hello Monopoly City Streets!
My news is late . . . but seeing as how my following is microscopic, this shouldn’t cause a rift in the atmosphere. The game launched earlier this week . . . and then crashed.
It crashed because there were too many people logging in at once. Google didn’t expect the high volume of traffic and the game crashed. They are fixing it. But did you hear what I said?
Google didn’t expect the high volume of traffic.
That makes me feel better about all the times I’ve been surprised about something I should have known.
Thank you, Google, and I still adore you.
And I will adore this game.
It is live, it is global, and it will beat Facebook’s Farm. Maybe.
Here’s their description from their preview earlier this week:
On the 9th September, a world of property empire building on an unimaginable scale will be launched! A live worldwide game of MONOPOLY using Google Maps as the game board. The goal is simple. Play to beat your friends and the world to become the richest property magnate in existance.
Own any street in the world. Build humble houses, crazy castles and stupendous skyscrapers to collect rent. Use MONOPOLY Chance Cards to sabotage your mates by building Hazards on their streets.
“Richest property magnate in existance”.
I’m sorry, Lizzie Magie. So much for teaching single tax theory.
Sigh.
I’m SO playing this game.
Potter’s Marsh is just outside of Anchorage, in between the Old Seward Highway and the New Seward Highway, right next to the ocean. In the spring, I’d condition myself for summer backpacking by hiking the Old Seward with a fully loaded frame pack. In the winter, I skated on the marsh.
I stumbled across these pictures and got a little sappy-nostalgic.
I can't remember how old I was when they built the boardwalk. High school? The marsh is also a bird sanctuary, as well as attracting all kinds of wildlife.
Methinks that might be salmon . . .
And finally, please click on this last picture and read the article . . . this was my home.
Did you click on it? No??? Then click here.
Ok, sorry, one more picture. The classic Anchorage pic . . .
Simply fabulous. Go ahead, click on the picture. Learn more. Get excited. Buy it.
I’m going to get it as a gift for my Dad and nephew this Christmas. Shhh . . . don’t tell them.
The greatest opportunities in life don’t just land on our desks. Most of the time, they’re created by the pant-soiling decision to put ourselves in a position of only-God-can-help-us danger.
~Ben Arment
For the first time in . . . ever, I sort of miss junior high.
Laundry has never really bothered me before. It’s not something you will ever be done with, it’s always going to be there, and it is not that hard to do it. I mean, I’m a civilized lady. I have a washer and dryer – the only hard part is putting it up.
Dishes are another story. They are my favorite thing not to do.
In college I sort of liked laundry. No one ever did laundry so the laundry room was always empty. I’d truck down the hall with a hamper full of clothes and a backpack full of books and camp out in the laundry room for a couple of hours and study. The machines provided me with white noise, and no one ever thinks of looking for you in the laundry room.
The last few years I’d throw a load in before I left for work, and then throw that load into the dryer when I came home. After dinner, I’d flip on the TV and listen to it while I put the laundry away. Took about 15 minutes to do that, really. But here’s the thing . . . my kids started putting their own clothes up a LONG time ago. Once they figured out where to get clothes to put them on, I knew they were smart enough to be given a garment and put it up. Seriously, they’ve been putting their own clothes up since the age of 2. I’m not going to do any chores I don’t have to. If they know where to get it out, then they know where to put it up. Amen.
Somehow last fall it call came apart. I was pregnant and it was an unexpected shock to my system. I had to confront the fact that I was nearly 10 years older since the last pregnancy. I also had quit working which meant I had all the time in the world . . . which meant the weeks flew by without me having done anything productive. Laundry piled up into monstrous heaps that reeked of feet and old potatoes. I would try to do some, but I would forget I was doing laundry until the washer started swelling with the odor of mildew. There was even a pair of my husband’s pants that could stand up by themselves because of the lack of washing.
I had to enlist a friend to email me daily to remind me to check the washer.
If I did manage to get the clothes washed, the bed became hidden under a pile of clean clothes so high it had its own climate. It put Mt Hood to shame.
Please note: Mt. Hood is a volcano.
Before we went to bed at night we’d transfer the pile to the floor. This pile is where my husband would retrieve any clean clothes he might need.
Lordy lordy, I’m blushing from embarassment.
But no more.
I am determined to not let laundry get out of control anymore. So I started the day by putting a load in the wash. In my second load was a towel that was used this morning. My second load. Which means so far I had not forgotten I was doing laundry. It is a purple bath towel. Let me tell you . . . that towel made it through the wash, the dryer, was folded AND put up all in the same day.
Simply amazing. I hear Heaven applauding. Demons shrieking. My husband grinning.
I have traveled the Middle East alone (not Mid-East, Middle East. You know, ancient lands, holy grounds, people with an inordinate amount of guns and grenades). I have done tidal population mapping off the coast of Oregon. I have done research and experiments on the effects of gibberellin and auxin on the Pisum sativum. I have windowed chicken eggs and drew each stage of embryological growth. I have written about the Catholic missionaries in the tropical islands and how their well-intended attempts at conversion actually ended up birthing Voodoo. I have examined, diagnosed, and treated multiple STD cases. I am certified in trauma and emergency nursing across the lifespan. I have saved lives, I have watched people die. And before I became so great, I burned my thumb badly in a confused attempt to light another joint.
How did I get to the place where a clean purple towel, used, washed and put away in the same day, has become so momentous?
Radioactivity and you? Ahh . . . the good ole' days . . .
