Editor's Note: Since Blogger has been a little bit of a bitch for the last few days, I've more or less forgotten all the posts that I intended to write. So things may be slow going for a bit. No worries, though; what I lack in content I will make up for in subpar quality.
Psychologists often look for subtle clues to pick up various nuances of a person's mental portfolio. And what better way to do this than to observe the actions of everyday mundane behavior? So as a public service, let's take a look at the world's most popular board game and convert it into a psychological test without having to go through all of the trouble to visit a "professional." So let's see: what type of Monopoly piece you select determines what kind of person you are:
Thimble: You value security and safety. By picking the least pointy token--and also with its protective connotations--you reduce the risk of anything going wrong, what with all those stories of back-alley Monopoly tournament bloodbaths you read about in the tabloids. Also, you may be a klepto, since this is the only token you can also actually use in its real-life representation.
Scottie Dog: You are codependent. By bringing along a "companion"--silent and metal as it may be--you rely on her to take you where you want to go, build the dreams you want to dream, and take the fall for you when you go to jail.
Racecar: You crave danger. Race cars are inherently flashy and dangerous machines, and by choosing this you convert a reasonably dry game about money and make it into your own personal race track. As you speed up along the admittedly race track-shaped board, you leave your competitors behind. There are no pit stops, though, so when you crash and burn you have no one to blame but yourself.
Sack of Money: You are under the impression that your high-rolling 13-year-old cousins are playing for real money. You will spend your life largely disappointed in such leaps of faith.
Man On Horseback: You thought we were going to play Risk.
Wheelbarrow: You are a workhorse and value the act of labor. You're playing this game as a facade against the bourgeoisie social model you're forced to accept, but deep down inside this game of greed and corruption properly displays the flaws in the capitalist system. Comrade.
Shoe: You are poor. You don't just live outside of your means, your means now consist of a small pewter fake shoe. You're playing this game grasping at the last few remaining hopes and dreams of becoming a cardboard millionaire.*
Cannon:You eschew the voluntary nature of the free market in favor of military supremacy. By investing your emotional income into a show of intimidation as opposed to the liquidity of congealed labor, you accomplish the same goals with different means. That is, if this was 1955 and not the 21st century. Dinosaur.
Iron: You are a woman.
Top Hat: You are a pretentious, dick-swinging Type A jackass. You think cause you put on the pretense of dressing like a rich boy you actually become one? What, you land on Park Place and suddenly you're the cock of the walk? And not the old-school throwback meaning of the phrase "cock of the walk" but the definition you'll find in the urban dictionary? Jerk.
Battleship: You are going places. Sure, you're conscripted under duress by the governing military authority in your municipality, but you're not patrolling Market Street or the Jaycee meeting. You want to visit exotic locales and mythical peoples, all accompanied by the presence of unstable governments or the vested interest of the United Fruit Company. By seeing and possibly conquering the world, you love adventure and don't mind genocide so much.
Train: When you are offered the easiest path possible, you cast it aside. What good is life if you glide through it unopposed? By taking the rough way--as in, say, selected a massive, expensive, dirty mode of transportation instead of, say, racecars or ships or even shoes--you overcome challenges and build character. You also also likely to be riding with a few thousand tons of coal and scrap waste, because, hey, who the hell rides trains anymore? Hobos, maybe?
Hovercraft: You are from the future. This tells us that they are still manufacturing this stupid game well into the future, and that the one thing you want to do if you go back in time is to spend three hours playing this game only to have your little sister quit halfway through because The Voice is coming on. Why? Why would you do this?
*"Cardboard Millionaire" would make an awesome band name, or possibly a reality television program.It also kind of sounds like a country western song.