Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Tuesday I post a new column.
Never mind World of Warcraft and Halo 3. If parents are going to complain about young people playing games 16 hours per day, they need to take a hard look at the games they grew up with. Do you know how fucking long it takes to play Monopoly? Most people can pay off a car loan in the time it takes to finish a game.
I started a game of Monopoly on Friday. It’s now Monday morning and the game hasn’t ended yet. It has consumed my entire weekend, made me exhausted at work today, and left me completely unable to concentrate on my job. It’s like heroin. “God this is horrible, but I can’t let that insufferable fuckface Steve win.”
If World of Warcraft were causing this, I could at least justify it by claiming video games are a trendy thing to do. But wasting an entire weekend playing a board game? What am I, Gerald Ford’s mother-in-law? Why don’t I just join a knitting group or become one of those people who attends city council meetings because they’re lonely. With the rate of dorkiness I’m achieving, I might as well give up sex and booze in favor of Jesus.
Like that’s going to happen. Booze and I have been happily married for 28 years.
Monopoly is an idiotic game. I have hotels on the purple and orange properties, and Steve has hotels on the blue and light blue properties. Steve owns all the utilities, but I own all the railroads. We move around the board endlessly, with neither of us ever getting richer or poorer. It’s as depressing as real life.
Sweet pickled Christ! Do you see what’s happening here? I just spent an entire paragraph of this column describing my Monopoly game. I’ve morphed into one of those jug-eared octogenarians who bores everyone they meet without realizing it. I should just complete the transformation by riding city buses all day, blathering endlessly about imaginary medical problems.
And I’m getting worse. Last night I prayed to God for Steve to die in a car accident. “Make him pay, Lord,” I said. “Make him pay for not trading me Marvin Gardens. Make his face look like New Jersey!” This is the sort of thinking I’ve been driven to. I’m not concerned that I’m wishing death upon a friend – I do that all the time – I’m upset that I’m once again thinking about Monopoly. Shouldn’t I be thinking about boobs or something?
But it’s not just a mental thing. There are also physical health risks associated with playing Monopoly. The game is made by Hasbro, a company that specializes in producing Chinese toys with lead in them. Lead is bad for children. Too much exposure to it makes kids grow up to be Reader Weekly columnists.
Seriously though, Hasbro’s awesome. I hope they place ads in this newspaper. Big full-page ads for lead.
I need to end this Monopoly game tonight. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t desire to play the game, I desire to finish it so I’ll never have to play it again. All I can think about is the sweet release I’ll feel when this horrible experience is over.
Parents should feel fortunate that their kids have fun games. Back in Monopoly’s heyday, you played it once, it took you fourteen days to finish, and the thought of playing it again made you want to die. But playing Halo 3 all day doesn’t give kids time to wish for death. It’s better to have a fat kid who plays games than a dead kid who no longer qualifies as a tax write-off. Right?