The rock.

I've been watching some of the Winter Olympics this year. My wife had them on, and we like to see some of the amazing things people can do. I swear, freestyle ski jumps, skeleton sledding, speed skating, and so on -- if you'd never seen anything like it until you were an adult, you wouldn't believe the human body could perform such actions. 

Of course, cheating -- anyone above the age of three could believe that. 

 

It's tempting to pile on Canada because of the apparent dishonor their men's curling team has brought to the nation. Once thou hast let go of thy rock, thou cans't touch it no longer! The Eleventh Commandment, at least in the Olympics. 

One commenter said that in practical play, curling is like golf, in which honor is expected and demonstrated in friendly matches. I play neither sport, but I have always heard that golfers are notoriously untrustworthy. There's more to a lie in golf than the spot of the ball.

For some, the real scandal of curling is that it is an Olympic sport at all. To them, it is like having darts or bowling at the Olympics. 

I don't know. Archery has been a regular Olympic sport since 1972, and what is darts but fun-size archery? Bowling requires more effort than darts, but bowling does not allow sweepers as in curling -- and those sweepers are always out there working like the boss's boss just walked in. In any event, golf has been back in the Olympics since 2016 (after a 112-year absence), so you tell me what counts as a sport.

I still like the pancake test, heard a few years back on a Wall Street Journal podcast: If you can eat a stack of pancakes and go out and not have it affect your play, you are playing a game, not a sport. Golfers, curlers, bowlers, and so on may ask themselves that deep question. 

As for me, a stack of pancakes would make me want to nap, so it would even affect me playing Clue or some Pop-O-Matic game. I guess in the shape I'm in, everything is a sport. 

The rules of the game.

Bernard Suits (1925-2007), a philosopher of sports and games (nice work if you can get it, right?), wrote in 1967 that “playing a game is simply the voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles.” And that's an interesting way to look at it. 

People who play for money, either gamblers or professional athletes, may pooh-pooh such a flowery description. Winning in those instances may yield a gusher of money -- as well as the rush of defeating an opponent -- so their game may hardly seem to be something as ordinary as voluntary attempts vs. unneeded obstacles. I would hesitate to put that description to either Tyson Fury or Oleksandr Usyk, who fought a brutal boxing match last week to decide the first undisputed heavyweight champion in 25 years. Usyk, the winner of a split decision, was unable to speak to the press afterward, as apparently he also won a split jaw. 

And yet Suits is correct all the same. Whether it's a brutal boxing match or a game of Crazy Eights with your kids, no one has to play, but if you do play, you must overcome the obstacles imposed by the rules. If I'm playing poker for funsies, I still can't reach over and grab the deck and find the cards I want. At that point I may be doing something, but I'm not playing poker. The rules are intended to be obstacles to surmount and a definition of victory over them. 

Of course, there are always those who have the attitude that pro sports is war, and all's fair in love and war. It's not cheating if you don't get caught. If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying. 

We love our rascally rogues, but only if they’re our rascally rogues. When the other guys are deflating footballs and stealing signs, we squeal like pigs. It's satisfying to think that the only reason they were winning was their wickedness. 

We instinctively know that if everyone is cheating, the game is ruined. Major League Baseball's steroid scandal shows that. None of those proven juiced-up muscleheads are going to make the Hall of Fame. (On the other hand, steroid use is no impediment to election to the Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame, because that's not a game -- it's theater.)

I want everyone to play by the rules, but that doesn't mean I don't understand the temptation. If I were a player getting my behind handed to me on the field, seeing my dreams of wealth and glory dwindle, and I thought I could get away with some kind of illegal edge, what would I do? I honestly don't know. But I fear what I would do is talk myself into believing everyone else was doing it, so why not?

One last thought: I think it's kind of excellent that a guy who made a living as a philosopher of games was named Suits. Too bad his first name wasn't Dex. 

The S is for Solomon.

Today's topic is: How Captain Marvel was ruined, phase three. By Captain Marvel I mean the one that comes into being when Billy Batson says the magic word Shazam, not the various Captains Marvel that Marvel Comics has coughed up over the years. (That was phase two.)

Captain Marvel's ruination, phase one, was when DC Comics sued Fawcett, claiming that Cap was a rip-off of Superman, and won in 1951. DC later got hold of the Fawcett characters but sat on them for years. Eventually they started publishing new stories featuring the man called by his foes the Big Red Cheese. 

But today I want to discuss how the character was ruined by DC after I stopped being a regular reader of comic books. It ties into to other issues in our so-called culture, trust me. 

First, as you may be aware, the word Shazam is an initialism. It stands for the fabled personalities from whom Captain Marvel gets his superpowers: 

Solomon (wisdom)

Hercules (strength)

Atlas (stamina)

Zeus (sheer all-around power)

Achilles (courage)

Mercury (speed)

We have here a mashup of Greek and Roman names (like Hercules and Mercury rather than the Greek Herakles and Hermes), but that's forgivable. If all Roman names had been used (like Jupiter instead of Zeus) it would have been Shajam, and that sounds pretty bad. But the one figure that is not from myth, Solomon, is Biblical and historical. He really doesn't go with the others. Athena (in Roman, Minerva) would have been a mythical choice for wisdom. But that would have involved an icky girl, and then the magic word would be Ahazam or Mhazam, and those are pretty bad. 

The problem with Captain Marvel is that, while supposedly having the wisdom of Solomon, he's been turned into a dumbbell. 

This all started in the late 1980s, when DC was doing major reboots to its legacy characters. Prior to this point, Billy and Captain Marvel were two distinct characters -- they shared knowledge (when Billy turned into Captain Marvel, Cap knew what was going on), but they referred to each other as separate people even in their thoughts. Not that Billy was not a clever and resourceful boy; he could often accomplish things that big, conspicuous Marvel could not. It was hard to tell where one began and the other ended sometimes, except that Marvel had the attributes of the seven legendary personas, and Billy did not. 

Veteran writer Roy Thomas and his wife Dann decided it would be better if Billy's mind remained in Captain Marvel's body when the magic transformation happened. The problem is, Billy then cannot have the wisdom of Solomon; he only has his own mental capacity. Ditto, to a lesser degree, the courage of Achilles. Ever since, writers of less talent and respect for source material have treated Captain Marvel like a dopey child -- especially in the recent live-action and animated movies. He's essentially a preteen boy in the body of a superpowered man. 

This does not say much for the value of his supposed wisdom. Wisdom is thought of as an attribute or gift, sometimes gotten through hard experience, and distinct from intelligence. Intelligence helps you do math or learn languages; wisdom helps you know why these are good things and what the best means to deploy intellect and other gifts is. In the role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons, Intelligence and Wisdom have always been separate characteristics, and characters who score high in one or the other will pursue different paths.

In the Catholic faith, wisdom is thought of as one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. (The others are understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of God.) In fact, Solomon's own wisdom is definitely recorded as a gift of God. In 1 Kings 5:3, God promises to give King Solomon whatever he asks for. Solomon says: 

You have shown great kindness to your servant, David my father, because he walked before you with fidelity, justice, and an upright heart; and you have continued this great kindness toward him today, giving him a son to sit upon his throne. Now, LORD, my God, you have made me, your servant, king to succeed David my father; but I am a mere youth, not knowing at all how to act—I, your servant, among the people you have chosen, a people so vast that it cannot be numbered or counted. Give your servant, therefore, a listening heart to judge your people and to distinguish between good and evil. For who is able to give judgment for this vast people of yours?

God is pleased by this response, which shows Solomon is pretty wise already. God tells him: 

Because you asked for this—you did not ask for a long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of your enemies—but you asked for discernment to know what is right—I now do as you request. I give you a heart so wise and discerning that there has never been anyone like you until now, nor after you will there be anyone to equal you.

Does that sound like it would result in the mind of a preteen boy? 

That's not the Captain Marvel we had, but that's the Captain Marvel we got now. Much like a lot of things-- newspapers, Congress, universities -- he looks like the same as he once did but is dumber than he used to be.

🗱🗱🗱

Side note: Don't feel too bad for Athena/Minerva. Billy Batson has a sister, Mary Batson, and she was given the power to use the Shazam word to become Mary Marvel. But she does not get her powers from the same personas. At least, when she made her debut in 1942, her powers came from: 

Selena (grace)

Hippolyta (strength)

Ariadne (skill)

Zephyrus (fleetness)

Aurora (beauty)

Minerva (wisdom)

They've changed a little over the years, but M still stands for Minerva, so there's that. For all purposes, she was considered pretty much the girl version from the beginning -- almost but not quite as powerful as Cap himself, regardless of where the powers came from. 

Lurrrrve hotel.

I believe I mentioned a February or two ago that I stopped hanging a big red heart on the front door for Valentine's Day. It just made the place look like a love hotel (say it with your best Barry White voice: Lurrrrve hotel). 

But what does that have to do with this guy?

The great motels that once dotted the fruited plains are largely gone, or turned into senior or welfare housing, or still running as No-Tell Motels, the kind you rent by the hour and hope the germs on the sheets don't kill you. I have a feeling, though, that they may be somewhat nicer in the Eastern World, because of the Love Hotel emoji in all its variations.

And they are exactly the same as our little hourly rentals on the cheatin' side of town -- what they call in the business "short stay" rooms. 

So I'd rather not have the house look like one of these emojis. 

But what does that have to do with Mario?

You may know that Nintendo was founded as a playing card company in 1889, manufacturing the beautiful cards called Hanafuda. The company was very successful. But by the 1950s, company president Hiroshi Yamauchi realized that playing cards were a fading business. This would lead to the company's entry into other games, including video games. It also led to some unsuccessful diversification ventures, like instant rice and a TV network. Also: A Love Hotel! 

As Kotaku.com says, "The location and name of Nintendo's hotel seems lost to the pages of time. Like many of Yamauchi's ventures, the hotel was a failure. According to The History of Nintendo, local newspapers noted that it might have an upside for the married Nintendo president: 'The only benefit Yamauchi might have derived from this is that this time he and his partners don't need to pay for the rooms, and that might in the end constitute a substantial saving.' Yamauchi's reign at Nintendo was marked by his repeated desire to, like any good businessman, find new markets. If the love hotel or the copy machine or even the soup with noodles ventures had worked out, Nintendo would have become a very different company."

But getting back to the Love Hotel emoji -- why do we even have a Love Hotel emoji? As far as I know, it's the only emoji that was created with the intent to be salacious. (The eggplant just started life as an eggplant, I will assume.) Married couples almost never go to rent-a-rooms; why pay rent or the mortgage and not use your own place? The Love Hotel is a curiously provocative symbol in a library of symbols that are silly, stupid, or weird. 

Oh, well. Some guys go to all kinds of trouble to get a date. Who am I to judge what they do when they get one? 

"Hang inna there, baby! I gotta rooma reserveda!"

Sharks, sharps, flats.

We played a lot of card games in my house when I was growing up, and if someone were to have a particularly good run my mother might call him a card shark. Interesting to note that was kind of a misnomer, except it wasn't. 

The term card shark is well-known, and was the name of a popular game show, but it doesn't make much sense. While the term shark is used for someone very driven at work (especially lawyers), we don't usually append the term shark to an activity to show someone is good at it. A good cook is not a kitchen shark; a great writer is not a word shark. But a pool shark is someone really good at pool, and for the same reason as the card shark -- it comes from cheating.  

We're gonna need a bigger pot.

In centuries past, sharks were not considered the magnificent beasts that the aquariums tell us they are now, but rather were considered parasites, ones that fed on others, as with loan sharks. So we might think that a card shark is either a mighty beast or a parasite that lives on smaller prey, but that may not be how the term originated. 

The word sharper as a noun likely came to the English language from the German schärfen, for sharpen, a way of calling someone a cheater, at least according to Grammarist. I suspect it may come from cheaters doctoring card decks by trimming or notching particular cards in a subtle way so they could tell what their opponents were holding. Oddly, I haven't seen that possible explanation online, but we know that deck doctoring is why new cards come in sealed boxes -- to avoid such tricks. 

Over time the card sharp, a kind of odd phrase, seems to have accidentally become card shark. But while the card sharp may be a cheat, a card shark is more often someone who's just really good at card games. (Different dictionaries, however, will define the terms differently.) It has been my experience in the real world that calling someone a card sharp is an accusation of cheating, but calling him a card shark is not. Whether the player is a card sharp or shark, though, he's not someone you want to go up against. Or at least, you'd best be a master at either method of play to go against him. 

Personally, that's why gambling has been the one vice that's had limited attraction for me -- there is no limit to the amount you can lose, and in a short time. What fun is that? I work too hard for my dough.

Role-playing maims.

Speaking of America, I guess there's no more American hero than the Western gunfighter. The period of the Wild West was terribly brief in retrospect, and yet no other specific time and place has caught the imagination of people around the world the way the American West has, from the end of the Civil War to the closing of the frontier in 1890 (with some scattered Western adventures before and after). 

In my more concentrated dorkness days I played a lot of Dungeons & Dragons. You younger fellers may not know that the D&D home company, TSR, had role-playing games in other genres, and my own personal Geek Squad tried a lot of them. Gangbusters was a Roaring 20's adventure; Gamma World was a post-apocalyptic adventure. We enjoyed them, although they were not as much fun -- nor did they offer the kind of playground for wild imagining -- as D&D.

And yes, there was a Western role-playing game. Boot Hill operated the same way as the others -- a game master would set the scene, players would create characters, motivation would be provided, and off you went.  

What I remember best was how great my character looked, and how useless he actually was. By the time his dice-rolled characteristics were determined, I had a lean, mean, blazing-fast gunslinger. Unfortunately, he could not hit the broad side of five barns, stacked or aligned. His aim was terrible. His draw was the fastest in the land, faster than any non-player characters we ever encountered, but once that gun was out of its holster it might as well have been a pickleball paddle for all the good it did in combat. Sure, he might get a lucky hit, but mostly he was great for getting the drop on people, outdrawing them and hoping they wouldn't go for the leg iron.

In real life, in actual gunfights, other cowboys might have been similarly impaired. It's one thing to shoot a can off a fencepost, but another to shoot at moving men who are shooting back when the adrenaline is coming out your hat. In the legendary gunfight at the OK Corral, yes, three of the nine men involved were killed, three others were wounded, and two more ran away. Thirty shots were fired, but the whole thing took only 30 seconds, and they weren't all using pistols. Doc Holliday had a shotgun. A lot of missed targets, I reckon. 

The event has invited all sorts of dramatic interpretation, necessary because the story is so famous but the climactic fight so short. The 1993 film Tombstone is more than two hours long, and you can't have a film that long with a fight that lasts just half a minute. In it, the OK Corral battle runs almost five minutes, according to YouTube. Definitely more guys should have been dead if they'd been blazing away that long. Maybe some horses and chickens, too. 

I'm not sure how I got into this narrative hole today. I was just thinking of my Boot Hill character, who probably died in a gunfight -- I don't recall, but Boot Hill did not offer magical healing like Dungeons & Dragons, so characters tended to not last. I think he could he earned a ballad just for his speed, though.

They called him the Rattler

Faster than light

Quickest with iron

In any gunfight

Nobody would challenge

That brave caballero 

Whose gun was as useless

As a vegetable marrow

No matter the target

He aimed like a wimp

Could hit nothing smaller

Than an inflated blimp

One day an old lady

Called him a bum

For using his rocker

As a place for his gum

Of course he outdrew her

And punctured the air

While her old shaky gun hand

Done parted his hair

We buried the Rattler

In dry desert spot

Faster than lightning

But couldn't hit squat

Fastest gun in Boot Hill. I reckon.

Fun and hatred.

I've heard it attributed to Erma Bombeck -- though I can't track down the quote -- that one should never marry someone until they've played the board game Monopoly together, because that's how you can see the true person within. 

That's pretty good advice. Someone who is cruel and ruthless in meaningless things may be very cruel and very ruthless when it counts. Some women look for that in a man -- a guy who's a killer, who will protect and provide -- only to find out that he will cut them off at the legs when it suits him, too. On the other hand, some women want a nice guy who couldn't care less who wins or loses, and then get furious when he turns out to be a couch potato. 

Monopoly can be illuminating. 

Board games can teach us a lot. One of the reasons that people like myself who love words are so frustrated by Scrabble is that, as my wife noted, it's not really a word game. It's a math game. People with good vocabularies think they have an advantage going in, but the mathemagicians who know how to slay with an X on a triple letter score and always know how many of each letter tile are likely to still be in the bag are the ones who win. They can make up for their lack of words by -- completely within the rules -- hogging the official Scrabble dictionary while they scan their letters. They're not looking to get rid of that Z. They're looking for a way to get set up by you to dump it on the triple word score next time. Because it’s not the killer word that counts, it’s the killer score.

All this is very educational, but for those who really want to know how evil their friends and loved ones can be, I still say that you can't beat Avalon Hill's classic, Diplomacy. It is the king of bad relations. 

1976 edition

Forbes magazine called the game board "the map that ruined a thousand friendships," and I'd say that's being nice. The goal of the game, for up to seven players, each representing a pre-World War I nation, is to take over Europe, which means capturing eighteen of the thirty-four major cities (as supply centers). There are no dice, no cards, just moves and alliances. All moves are written in secret and played simultaneously.

I believe that it is impossible to win this game without screwing someone over. 

There's no way. You can only survive for any time by making alliances, and if your alliance vanquishes the other alliance(s), no one player will yet control enough of the map to win. Someone's gotta go down, and the best way to do it is a surprise attack, when you can mortally wound your former friend and he cannot stop you. We called the game Screw Your Buddy.

I've played the game many times, and it's ugly. It’s the only game I have ever seen end with someone's announced move being "I flip the game board." In this game it's routine. There are no good losers in Diplomacy. There are no good winners. Just sore losers and sore winners. No one's happy.  

It's amazing.

The last time I played, I started out with an ally who said we would experiment with the noble idea that we would be pals straight to the end. Blood oath to not attack each other. I took advantage and made an unusual early aggressive move on an opponent. He didn't like it -- basically, he didn't want me as an ally, he wanted to control my country -- so he immediately stabbed me in the back. I swore the game off after that. The hatred would have made Emperor Palpatine look like Tweety Bird.  

If you want a classic game that tests the mettle of up to seven people, try Diplomacy. Even people who are weak on strategy can do well if they're good on personality. Of course, you may never speak to one another again, but c'est la guerre. 

Boss battle.

You know, every month is like a level in a classic video game. Your little character goes along with his little bundle of tricks, looking to earn points and powerups along the way. As he goes, he must overcome obstacles (work) and combat enemies (bills). Some of the enemies will be mere nuisances, like the water bill, and some will be more serious, like the utility bill at the height of winter or summer. You can get past those, but you have to be careful. You don't want to use up all your power on the little guys, because you know at the end of the level (the month), you have the boss battle waiting. 

Repeat twelve times, and that's the game for the year. If, like a lot of us. December is the month in which you spend the most, consider that the endgame boss battle. Yeah, it's lame to have the same boss to fight every month, and technically those Christmas bills on the credit card will come due in January, but do you want to enjoy a nice metaphor or get into an argument? 

The level/month analogy does make sense, in that a mortgage or rent payment comes at the end of the month and is traditionally the highest monthly bill most of us face. I say traditionally because some people really have a problem with credit card debt, some people are getting murdered by the IRS, some people have teenagers and a phone bill that is mindboggling, and so on. But the roof over your head is supposed to cost 25 to 30% of what you bring home, and if it's more than that, well, welcome to 2023. 

Now, having defended my metaphor, I'll tear it down.

🎮Videogames are fun. People like them because they're challenging. No one likes a bill that's challenging. 

🎮A gamer playing a level that's easy calls it boring. No one calls a month of lighter-than-average bills boring. 

🎮Rich people have accountants pay their bills for them. While the strange phenomenon of watching other people play videogames is indeed a thing, no one pays someone to play Call of Duty because he just can't be bothered to do it himself. 

On the other hand, if paying bills has become too easy -- say, we got a better job -- we take steps to bring the challenge back to it. We buy a house, or a bigger house, or get married, or have a child, or redecorate, or renovate, or buy a boat, or take up cocaine, and next thing you know, paying bills becomes a challenge all over again. I swear, human beings will tolerate almost anything rather than face boredom.

New PilGRIM sequel.

It's been quite some time, but there's a new entry in everyone's favorite bloody massacre of a Thanksgiving XBox game: PilGRIM III! 

Of course it's a fake sequel to the original fake game and the first fake sequel. I almost wish I could try these. I don't usually play violent video games, but I think to get in the spirit of the day it would be worth a try. Pretty sure a zombie turkey would take me out in no time, though.  

But it wouldn't kill my appetite, however gory. As the meme says:

So as for eating, I wish you a very delightful Thanksgiving feast tomorrow, and if you are not American, well, I wish you something to be thankful for even if it's not your holiday. I'll have something for you on the blog Thursday, although I have no idea what. On Friday, probably indigestion.

Endorsement deal!

Welcome, friends, to another little chat with Fred, founder of everyone's favorite cryptocurrency, Fredcoin. Well, anyone who is anyone, that is. 

I'm happy to report that we have an endorsement from very high up--as high as you can get in this country. It is so gratifying to know that people do pay attention, you know? That they do see when you're working hard and doing things right. And here at Fredcoin, we never fail to not do things wrong. That's why, if loving us is wrong, you don't want to be right. Right? 

Anyway, here is the endorsement: 

I would like to thank the late President Woodrow Wilson for endorsing Fredcoin, even though he hated the Constitution more than any other president until the modern era, and even though he is dead. Wilson and I share something in common, in that my image is on Fredcoin, and his was on the famous $100,000 treasury note issued in 1934. 

That puts us both in select company with another famous American, the great Art Linkletter. 

Which will be worth more ultimately, the Fredcoin, the US Treasury Note, or the money from the Game of Life? It's a footrace at this point.

Meanwhile, I am hoping to get the coveted endorsement from Mr. Linkletter, the beloved entertainer who died in 2010. That would really send the value of Fredcoin soaring. Keep your fingers crossed, Fredcoin fans!

The Wordle menace.

Once there was a guy named Wardle who wanted to do something nice for his gal, who loved word games. So he invented a little five-letter word guessing game he called Wordle. 

Well. 

Since then, as you probably know, that little game has become as addictive as crack and as big a fad as the Pet Rock. The brilliant little twist, allowing people to post results of the once-a-day puzzle without giving away the answer, makes it a natural for social media. Now people are playing it all over. Josh Wardle, the inventor, sold it to the New York Times, a former newspaper, for million. It's become hot enough to get lampooned by New Yorker cartoonists. 

But more than that, it's been ripped off mightily. Wardle's idea was not entirely original (see, for example, the TV game show Lingo, which originally aired in 1987), so while the Wordle name and design is trademarkable, the game is not. So now we have Facebook's own Daily Word Puzzle, which is available as a five-, six-, and seven-letter game. 

Then there's WordHurdle, which has five-, six-, and the even tougher four-letter variant. Four-letter words don't run through letters as fast, and there are many four-letter words, so that version is the trickiest. It can inspire you to say your own inappropriate four-letter words. The site also has a game called Phrazle, in which you have to guess an entire phrase.

For a real challenge, there is the evil Antiwordle. In that game you don't win; you just try to stay alive as long as you can by not guessing the right word. The problem is, when you use a letter that isn't in the word you can't use it again; when you use a letter that is in the word, you must use it again; and when you use a letter that's in the word in the right position, you must use it there again. My worst score so far is three; my best is fifteen.

And even that's just the beginning. Quordle has you solve four five-letter Wordle-type word puzzles at the same time using the same letters.

Octordle has you solve eight five-letter word puzzles at the same time using the same letters.

This just opens the door for Hexadecordle, you realize. 

I have only played it once, but there's also Lewdle for dirty words only. (They call their own repository of possible answers the "Dicktionary.")

Words not your bag? Well, there's Nerdle for math kids, or Globle and Worldle for geography fans. By now there's probably Nukedle for atomic weights and Spacedle for constellations and Xdle for algebra and Garble for gibberish. I can't keep up with them all. 

Where will it all end? It'll fade at some point, when the smart kiddies who made Wordle a hit go on to something else. Management at the Times will panic, and in trying to "improve" Wordle will ruin it, just as they did with their newspaper. And then we'll go on to some other damn thing, I guess. 

Wheel of HELL?

If you play a "free" game on the phone or online, you are usually bombarded with ads. As they say, if you didn't pay for the product, then you're the product.  

Most of the ads I see are for other games. I feel somehow if I got a game advertised on another game, and a game advertised on that one, eventually it might lead me to One King Game that rules them all. But more likely it would just lead me back to the first game. It takes about 250 million years to orbit around the galaxy center, though, and it might take me that long to get around to the original game.

Some ads make me wonder just what everyone involved was thinking. Such as this.

The Wheel of Fortune game is definitely related to the popular TV game show; they have the same logo. But while the TV show is a relaxing half hour of puzzles and prizes, this game looks like it's a wheel of fire in some dark section of hell. Explosions and bursts of flame take up the whole 30-second ad. It's like where bad gamblers go when they die.

I haven't seen the TV show in a long time. I'm pretty sure that's not the vibe one gets from that, though.

However, I have been to a few casinos, and I know that they love to have slot machines that are dolled up with pop culture icons of the day, just the way pinball machines used to be. But they have to have that excitement-after-the-dark feel that casinos love. So, wheels of fortune become wheels of flame, I guess. 

As I've noted in this space before, gambling is about the one vice that doesn't tempt me much because I am a skinflint, from a long line of skinflints, and I hate the idea of money flying away, leaving nothing behind. However, I do see the appeal of a fast-moving game with something on the line, so I'm not entirely immune. The other appeal that I understand that many upright folks don't is that seediness, darkness, and decay are not bugs but features for those whose minds bend that way. The grim little bar, the greasy buffet, the sweaty dance floor, the dirty magazine, the disgusting shooting gallery, and yep, the hellish gambling den have a kind of pull that defy good sense and good taste. Therefore, a dark, flaming Wheel of Fortune for a gambling game, rather than the cheerful, sunny TV show, makes a kind of sense.

I don't speak from any moral tower here. It's my good taste or good sense that keeps me from gambling, just my cheapitude, which is a vice all its own. Moral uprightness is trickier than it looks. 

Bad game shows.

I was trading notes on the Globle, the game that does for geography what Wordle does for five-letter words, with my old friends, and the question of Micronesia came up. Country or not? I remembered that it had once been administered by the United States, but has been independent for some time (official since 1990, as it turns out). I remembered that prior to full independence from the United States, there was a syndicated late-night game show that sent its winners on vacation there. I will be doggoned if I can remember or find the name of the show, but Micronesia has stuck with me. 

Anyway, it reminded me that there have been many lame game shows through the years. And yet, I can think of many lamer ones that never got made. Here are a few. 

📺💰📺💰📺💰

Bowling for Flounder

The Bong Show

Name That Rationalist Philosopher

What's In Your Fridge?

Wheel of Mishegoss    

Three Rounds with the Mike Tyson

Snot Potato!

Clinical Study

Eat Your Weight

Russian Roulette

The Recently Divorced Game

Three-Card Monte on Avenue D

Clean That Bathroom!

Girl or Drag Queen?

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Personally, I think I'll buy my own ticket to Micronesia, thanks. If I ever want to go to Micronesia. 

Battleship with Grandma.

 

Fred's Book Club: Ante Up!

Greetings and salutations, and welcome back to our Humpback Writers feature, the Wednesday book feature that asks the musical question, "Why Humpback?" And gives the musical answer, "Because it falls on Hump Day and we thought it was funny at the time."

We've profiled every kind of book on this blog from blank marble notebooks to an encyclopedia, but I don't think we've covered an actual book of rules. Well, if you had that on your bingo card, mark it off!

If you're old enough you may recall people using the phrase "according to Hoyle," and not just in terms of card games. It was another way of saying "this is kosher" or "that's the way I heard it" or other expressions that denote correctness. So who was this Hoyle anyway, and who made him the boss of us?

Edmond Hoyle was a good card player in eighteenth-century London; good enough that he taught upper-class types how to play whist. He published the rules for the game and a treatise on the play, which sold out. Later he wrote books on other card games, backgammon, chess, and even probability theory, which shows he had a keen mathematical mind. Also, a keen marketing mind, since he fought off pirated versions of his books by making his name the one to look for. 

At this late date, the name Hoyle is like the name Webster, in that anyone can use it and it doesn't mean much. Those looking for authenticity in card games and dictionaries need to see editions of Hoyle's older books that have been written and updated in a line of his followers, like Apostolic Succession, and for Merriam-Webster, which company is the true descendent of Nathaniel Webster's. So is my little paperback, er, according to Hoyle?

I think so, or as close as I could get. The title page says it is "Based on the Foundations laid down by Edmond Hoyle," for what that's worth. The first printing of this edition goes back to 1946, which is not a surprise based on the illustrations. 

People in 1946 dressed better to travel by train
than we do now to be buried.

If you want an older version of the book, Mongo and our other friends at Gutenberg have Hoyle's Games Modernized by Professor Hoffmann and Edmond Hoyle, available for free here.

My little paperback is useful, if you want to have the rules handy. If you and your friends enjoy card games, it's best to have one source upon which you can agree. In 255 pages my book has rules for all kinds of card games, as well as chess, Scrabble, dominoes, and so on. They're all very terse and to the point; all forms of Bridge, rules and strategies, are spelled out in 33 pages, but from what I am told, Bridge is also spelled out in a lifetime of frustration and arguments.  

Now here's the story I wanted to tell about this paperback. 

When I was a young baby editor, in the days of buffering and no smartphones, my wife asked me to pick up a Hoyle book because she liked solitaire and playing card games with others. I occasionally had poker nights, so I could use the book too. There was a Barnes & Noble near my office, and the Friday morning of our company picnic, when no one wanted to do any work, I zipped down there and bought the book. It fit nicely in the pocket of my shorts. I figured I'd bring it home that night rather than leave it in the office until Monday.

Hours later, at the picnic, I sat down in the shade to see some of my coworkers playing cards on a bench. It turned out they were playing Hearts, a game I had played many times. Two of the guys (I'll call them Moe and Larry) were tied as the game progressed. Then on one deal, Larry wound up with what seemed like a disastrous hand, being stuck with all the hearts and the Queen of Spades (the black lady version of the game). Moe gloated, but I said, "He shot the moon." Larry smiled and nodded.

"What?" snapped Moe.

"He shot the moon. If you get all the hearts and the queen of spades, it's shooting the moon. He gets 26 points off his total."

"I NEVER HEARD OF THAT! THAT'S RIDICULOUS!"

"Well, I just happen to have Hoyle's book with me..."

I have never seen anyone's eyes bug out bigger than Moe's did as I put the book on the table. "WHO THE FUCK WALKS AROUND WITH HOYLE'S RULES IN HIS POCKET?"

Everyone else fell over laughing. 

The game pretty much came to an end after that. All I can say is, for all the books I've carried around with me all my life, that was the one memorable time when I happened to have exactly right book at the right time. Thank you, Mr. Hoyle!

Know your Cuomos.

Live and let dice.

Some people will know exactly what these are:

And they will probably have a guess why there is no twenty- or eight-sided dice in the set -- because those are probably still in the dice sets belonging to my old friends, decades after the fact.

These four dice were in my first set of dungeon dice, the basic set needed for the Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game. To determine the results of actions in the game, a participant must have a four-sided die, a six, an eight, a ten, a twelve, and a twenty. (It's best to have two tens in case you have to roll a number between 1 and 100; one die is designated the tens and the other the ones. Or you could roll the same ten-sider twice.) I got these from a local toy store, which probably didn't know what the hell the kids were up to now but the older ones wanted these, plus the books for the games and lead figures to paint. The dice came with a red crayon, which was used to rub color into the numbers of the dice. Later in my career I went to the beloved Compleat Strategist on E. 33rd Street, which is still there and still carries a breathtaking array of games and gaming equipment.

There is an etiquette to dice in role-playing games. Messing with a man's personal set of dice is like messing with his car or his gun. Players get very attached to their dice, especially if they were used to make an epic lucky run in a well-remembered game. Then the player will revere the set of dice even if they let him down for weeks and get his or her favorite character killed. They were there for me in the Vault of the Unbegotten, by Crom! Gamers are probably more superstitious about dice than craps players are.

You might borrow a fellow player's dice if yours are on a cold streak, of course, and if you suddenly get a critical hit that turns the party's fortunes around in a desperate battle, you might even want to steal them. Enemies, they say, steal your money; friends steal your books. And your dice.

Once I finally understood what role-playing games are and how they worked, they became my favorite kind of games. I did not and don't much care for board games. In my house, playing a game meant either losing, which was no fun, or winning, and being beaten up for being "smug." (Smugness, I have found, is an easy characteristic to project on anyone who has just beaten you.) Role-playing games were cooperative, meaning the players were usually united in a quest, and no one else in my house was interested in them, which was another plus.

Of course, if you decided to go all Leeroy Jenkins at a delicate spot in the adventure and get the party wiped out, you might be threatened with bodily harm in real life.

I have a lot of affection for those summer afternoons spent rolling dice in parents' basements and rec rooms. I also have a bunch of other dice from other sets in a dice bag -- actually a repurposed velvet jewelry sack -- but the blue set above is always special; my first set. I haven't even played a D&D campaign in eons, but I still use them as randomizers when I can't decide which task on my list of tasks to do first.

Sometimes I tell people I'm a recovering geek, but I'm not sure I ever have recovered. The nerdiness went underground in my twenties but would pop out here and there. Maybe one day I'll start a campaign in the old folks' home. "Okay, players, this one's called 'The Secret Potion of the Senacots, or Questamucil.'"

Get a Clue.

Miss Marple: "Oh, my word, one doesn't often see terrible things like poor Mr. Boddy in such dreadful condition, does one? My word no, no one even seems to know whether the poor gentleman was shot, stabbed, or bludgeoned, or what all. Well, naturally one ought to suspect that nice Miss Scarlet. Oh, dear, yes, it is clear that she and Mr. Boddy were more than just friends, you see. These things do sometimes end poorly. But I wonder if she was in the library at the time? Have you noticed the many candlesticks in there? Quite a few for an electrified manor in a room full of valuable and delicate manuscripts, don't you think?"

Sam Spade: "I don't like that Green guy, and that White lady looks a little too rattled for my money. Something is going on there, but no one's talking. But it's that Plum that looks the most shady. What's he doing in the kitchen all the time? Looking for something? I need to find out what room he's in. I'm sure he's got some connection to the university scandal. He'd probably fold like a cheap suitcase, but I don't want to get into the rough stuff yet. And what was that White lady saying about a missing monkey wrench?"

Sherlock Holmes: "Now look, Watson, we must be careful none of the suspects leaves these premises. I've noted when Miss Peacock arrived in her traveling suit the faint outline of a bicycle clip still in her trouser leg. Indeed, she has some small Tribulus terrestris burrs on her tweed jacket, which would indicate recent travel by that means somewhere far from this location. What I shall do is locate the bicycle and remove the air from its tires. Meanwhile, I request you locate Colonel Mustard and engage him in conversation. He claims service in the Afghan, but I'm certain you can determine if this is true from your own experience in that hostile land. I last saw him in the billiards room, examining the revolvers on the wall. Perhaps you ought to carry your own."

Father Brown: "A man enters a room and no one goes in; the man never exits alive. A very wicked entity has entered this manor, and that entity is devious and diabolical; more so as he or she is desperate. Boddy certainly fit the description himself, as no doubt the police will discover now, but where is the weapon that brought him to his earthly end? A pipe is missing from the kitchen; but more telling is that the wrench that sent it missing is itself missing. This manor is like the man who owned it, shifting and mysterious; but the hall is the least likely place for a wrench or a loose pipe, and I propose that these items then must be found there if either or both were used."

Nero Wolfe: "I do not wish to be involved in this case, and yet it appears once again I have no choice. I should never have left West 35th Street. Archie, you must get your mind off the Scarlet woman and focus on Green. Find his room and see what he has. There was a man named Chartreuse involved in the Founders Bank scandal who disappeared with fifty thousand dollars. As I recall, he matched Green's description. Meanwhile, I shall see what our Professor Plum finds so interesting in the kitchen. No, I am not simply looking for food! What? Plum is in the study now? How did he get there without our seeing him?'

Hercule Poirot: "You see, 'astings, 'ow Mme. Peacock smokes ze cigarette weeth no 'older? I suspect she eez not as 'ow you say 'upper crusty' as she would like one to think, n'est pas? And yet I do not think this make 'er our suspect. Use ze little grey cells, 'astings! M. Boddy, 'e make no noise when 'e is killed, oui? No gunshot is 'eard. No smash, no blood, eh? Ze rope, 'astings! We must find ze rope and see who could have used it to strange our 'ost. Quickly, to ze ballroom!"

Dr. Gideon Fell: "Archons of Athens! What seems to be overlooked in this case, and I do not think it presumptuous of me to say, is that Boddy was found in a room which was locked from the inside, the windows in the same condition. I have on many occasions disproved the idea that one can successfully escape up the chimney in such instances, so how did the killer escape, hm? Once we know that, and find the knife that has gone missing, we shall know the killer."

Little Stiiv (age 10): "It was Colonel Mustard in the Lounge with the Wrench."

All others (looking at cards): "Crap!"

D&D: Virus of the East module.

Dungeon Master: Okay. You have at last found the Secret Storehouse of the Merchant Kings. The weather remains gloomy. There are signs of other life present within the storehouse.

Bob: What kind of signs?

DM: Other carriages, wagons, and beasts of burden in the parking lot.

Sally: We find a place to park the War Wagon.

Jasper: The Valiant!

Bob: By Plymouthe.

Pete: My thief looks around for any vehicles that might contain riches.

DM: (rolls die behind screen) You see a sign on a post that says "Ye Premises Watched by Beholdervision. All Perpetrators of Criminal Activities Shall Be Annihilated."

Bob: Forget it, Pete. We can't take a beholder.

Pete: Could be a bluff.

Sally: We have a mission, Pete. I say let's go inside and get what we need.

Bob: Can your cleric read the scroll again? Jasper, make a list.

Sally: All right:

From Merchant Kings you must acquire

Five items for your mission dire.

A chest of gauntlets sized for all

To stop yon terror's horrid pall.

A bag of webs need for ye cause 

Protection for ye mouth and schnoz. 

For sustenance the pearls of might 

Of pinto, kidney, black and white.

Elixir of cleansing made with booze

To rub ye hands with thus ye use.

A roll of vellum nice and floofie

To clean excreta from ye tushie.

Gather ye stuff to fight the beast

That grips ye town from farthest East.

Jasper: So, gloves, masks, beans, hand sanitizer, and TP. 

Bob: Let's move out. I'll take the front, Pete will watch our backs.

Jasper: I want a cart.

Bob: We don't need a cart. We can carry it.

Jasper: People always say that and then they find a dozen other things they need. 

Sally: Well, we don't want to have to fight while holding a case of beans. Not like we have a Bag of Holding. Are there any carts?

DM: (rolls dice) There's only one nearby. One wheel looks a little wonky. A small party of goblins is eyeing it.

Jasper: I go grab it. 

DM: Okay. (rolls dice.)

Jasper: What? 

DM: Your mage has no gloves. 

Jasper: Damn it! Did I get hit?

DM: You'll find out in an average of five to six days.

Jasper; I won't touch my face! Come on, Allie Kazam's got a huge intelligence.

DM: Okay, make an intelligence roll.

Jasper: (rolls) Son of a bitch!

DM: I'd say you've already stuck your fingers in your nose.

Sally: Why didn't you let me do a Detect Disease, stupid?

Jasper: Crap!

DM: You see a couple of fat orcs coming out of the storehouse, both coughing heavily....

Dog game show.

As my work has dwindled during the current crisis, and the cost of dog treats continues to rise, I was daydreaming about how to get my dogs, Tralfaz and Nipper, to start bringing home the bacon (without eating it all before they got here). Sure, they're cute enough to be in show business, but that requires something called "obedience," so forget that idea. And then I drifted off, thinking....

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Host Bob Animus: Welcome to today's episode of What's That Smell?, the game show for dogs! Can our contestants tell the smell? Let's find out! Who's up first, Johnny?

Johnny: He's a large hairy boy from New York, whose hobbies are eating snacks and looking for places to pee! He's here to try to sniff out some dough -- let's welcome Tralfaz!

Tralfaz: Yay for me.

Johnny: Facing Tralfaz is a ferocious bloodhound from Kentucky, who loves searching for escapees and biting them on the tush! Say hello to Sheba!

Tralfaz: Figures.

Sheba: I am here to win.

Bob: Okay, puppies, you know how this works. I'll give you a clue and you bid on how many sniffs it will take to identify the object. If you're wrong, your opponent can steal. First round is best two of three. Are you ready?

Tralfaz: I guess.

Sheba: I was born for this.

Bob: Here we go! This scent was found at the side of the Garden State Parkway near Watsessing Park. Sheba?

Sheba: I will name that smell in one sniff.

Audience: OoooOOoooo

Bob: All right, Sheba: What's That Smell?

Sheba: SNIFF. Smashed rutabaga!

Bob: That's correct!

Tralfaz: This sucks.

Bob: Get two more right and you'll move on to our second round, Sheba. Our next object was discovered in a drainpipe near Puckaway Lake in Wisconsin. Tralfaz?

Tralfaz: I will name that smell in... three sniffs.

Sheba: I'll do it in two, Bob.

Bob: Oooh, Tralfaz, will you let Sheba try or go for it yourself?

Tralfaz: Grr... I will name that smell in one sniff!

Audience: OooOOO!

Bob: All right, Tralfaz... What's That Smell?

Tralfaz: SNIFFFF. Umm... chipmunk carcass?

Bob: I'm sorry, Tralfaz, but no. Sheba, chance to steal?

Sheba: SNIFF. Poodle scat!

Bob: That is correct!

Tralfaz: Mumble mumble chipmunkinest poodle poop I ever smelled doggone it mumble

Bob: Sheba has a chance to sweep the round! Are you ready?

Sheba: I live to sniff.

Bob: Tralfaz, you'd better jump in here if you have the chance. Our third scent was collected in the middle of the Santa Ana Freeway, a mile south of Anaheim. Sheba?

Sheba: I will name that smell in two sniffs.

Bob: To you, Tralfaz.

Tralfaz: Aw... heckin' heck, I'll try it in one.

Audience: OooOOOoooOOO!

Bob: Okay, Tralfaz! What's That Smell?

Tralfaz: SCHNIFFFFFF! Hmm... Run-over barbacoa taco!

Bob: Oooh, sorry, Tralfaz! Sheba?

Sheba: Sniff. Run-over barbacoa empanada, Bob. With mild sauce. Wimp.

Bob: That's exactly right! Sheba will move on to our second round and get closer to a chance to win ten thousand dollars! I'm sorry, Tralfaz, but thanks for playing.

Tralfaz: Shoulda let Nipper come on this show instead, dagnabbit.

Bob: Of course you'll go home with a copy of the What's That Smell? board game, a case of Turtle Wax, and a five-pound wheel of stinky feet cheese!

Tralfaz: Why would I want to wax a tur -- What? Cheese? Hooray!

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Oh, well. We didn't get them for their money-making ability. Anybody want to buy some stinky cheese?