GOOD

Remember when swinging twenty feet above the ground on a swingset was the ultimate accomplishment in life? Then you grew up and all the sudden things were no fun. Playgrounds disappeared from your lexicon. Work became the consumer of your play. The cracks of sidewalks weren’t cliffs to jump over and escape scary monsters, but rather, a mover of people from Point A to B. There’s a need to make our cities playful again and Hunter Franks' League of Creative Interventionists is on the forefront of that mission. GOOD joined him, urban planner Patrick McDonnell and Women.Design.Build founder Christina Mirando on a Google Hangout about play and here were our key takeaways.

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Love Your Work? Help Crowdsource a Translation for "Arbejdsglæde"

‘Arbejdsglæde’, aside from being utterly unpronounceable for non-Scandinavians, is a wonderful word. Roughly translated, it means ‘to love your...

"Arbejdsglæde," aside from being utterly unpronounceable for non-Scandinavians, is a wonderful word. Roughly translated, it means"to love your work"—or, more literally, to be "work-glad." Amazingly, there is no direct translation for the word arbejdsglæde in the English language.

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How SOPA Would Kill Fun

What we’re facing here is the death of fun, a ban on giggling alone at your desk.


The Stop Online Piracy Act asserts itself so broadly—it aims to regulate everything from counterfeit prescription drugs to intellectual property rights—that it’s difficult to begin to imagine all the ramifications. The only thing I know for sure about SOPA is that it would be a very bad thing for people who frequently use the internet—so, everyone—and that it would sit its big, weighty body on the fragile skeleton of free expression and crush it into a million little splinters. It would inspire fear in everyone who creates content online, even if they’re only doing it for their own Facebook friends, because most of us are ignorantly pirating or consuming pirated best-of clips of Groundskeeper Willie, making the sites we use most liable. YouTube, Twitter, Wikipedia, Google, Wikileaks: What we’re facing here is the death of fun, the end of profound, drool-inducing engrossment in 50 pages of someone’s sporadically-chronicled life, a ban on giggling alone at your desk.

It can hit at any time—checking your email at 10:30 on a Saturday morning or killing 20 minutes before dinner—but it strikes most frequently at night. You open a new tab and wind up here again, a cup of some delicious liquid on the arm of your chair, and think, This is what watching Saturday morning cartoons was like. Mashup videos smell like occupying your own childhood again: that good old brain-churning, zap-eyed wonder at colorful stimuli. David Thorne was right: The internet is a playground, and being entertained by it is an experience that’s difficult to imagine living without.

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