The Mystical Magic 8-Ball

I don’t know whether any of you also had a Magic 8-Ball when you were a kid, but when I saw one at the Edgewood Towne Centre Giant Eagle recently, I was inspired to pick one up for my 7-year-old. I knew it would amuse him. I did not realize that his amusement with it would be so amusing to me.

According to Tim Walsh, author of The Playmakers: Amazing Origins of Timeless Toys, the supposedly clairvoyant object was originally called the “Syco-Seer” and patented in 1944 by Albert C. Carter of Cincinnati. It wasn’t until 1950, when Brunswick Billiards of Chicago commissioned Alabe Crafts to re-tool the toy in the image of an 8-ball, that the Magic 8-Ball was born.

Steven C. Santy, a student at Purdue University, programmed an online Magic 8-Ball that anyone on the Internet can use for free. Knowing this, I still paid $6.99 for my son to have the actual, tangible, shakable version because the Magic 8-Ball is the kind of toy that never really loses its appeal.

Inside a Magic 8-Ball is a 20-sided die. The possible responses include 10 that essentially mean yes (half that are a strong yes and five that are more tentative), five that are uncertain, and five that mean no. So, if you think the 8-Ball is mostly optimistic, you’re right. WikiPedia asserts that “Using the Coupon collector's problem in probability theory, it can be shown that it takes, on average, 72 questions of the Magic 8-Ball for all 20 of its answers to appear at least once.” (Academia does not accept WikiPedia as a credible source, but this sounded plausible enough to me, so there you go.)

Once I taught my son how to use the Magic 8-Ball, the real fun began.

“Does Daddy have a hairy butt?”

Better not tell you now.

“Does Fletcher (the beagle) have yucky breath?”

Yes – definitely.

“Is my sister about to wake up in a bad mood today?”

Most likely.

The Magic 8-Ball, indeed, seemed to possess certain wisdom. “How does it DO that?” screeched the boy. I found that when I took my turn, my questions were a lot more philosophical and existential. My teenagers’ questions, at an age where they need more validation because they are insecure, mostly had to do with the inclinations of certain members of the opposite sex.  

I would love to make a rude version of the 8-Ball as a gag gift, with responses like, “That’s a sick question I refuse to answer” or “Get a life.” The truth is, you can’t parody something effectively unless it’s already a solid part of our popular culture…and the Magic 8-Ball certainly is.

You might think that having that many more yes answers than no answers is unfair. I would say that this is precisely why the toy has remained so successful over the years. When writing the responses, Carter showed insight into the inherent hopefulness and positive nature of children. They will ask questions they want to hear “yes” to, far more often. It was a genius move.

We adults know it’s just a matter of probability; to my 7-year-old, it’s magic. At some point reality will kick in, and he’ll realize that it’s just a plastic ball with some water, food coloring, and a plastic icosahedron in it. For now, he’ll go on asking it questions about the weather, farts, Pokemon characters, and whether or not he’ll be allowed to have dessert. Will I be the one to spoil his fun and dash his imagination?

Don’t count on it.