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A Word On Monopoly. I hate it. I can't work it out, I am not competitive and I would much rather waive the rents so that the other players will love me. I can't see why anyone would want 3 houses when 2 would do, and as for hotels, what a lot of extra hassle. Think of all the housework. 13 Year Old Son gave me a small tutorial which went in one ear and out the other. He told me of the probabilities of the dice landing on this space or that, of the necessity of planning your acquisitions and how to make the dice fall in doubles not singles. "Yes, but, " I said. "What is it all for?" "Why Mother," he said with a cheeky grin and a quick back flip, "it is to destroy your opponent." Aaah. That is why I don't get it. I want to help my opponent, and take it very personally when they charge me a rent I can't afford. So. I started to cheat. 13 Year Old Son saw it, took it all in and made an instant executive decision, and decided to help me cheat. At that point, he had hotels all over London and 25 million pounds. I owned some Utilities and had 500 thousand pounds, and although I thought that under the circumsances I was rich beyond imaginings, and was beginning to plan a long holiday in the Mediterranean, I knew that I was going to be fleeced by 13 Year Old Son sooner or later, and forced to live the life of a Pauper and the game would be over.