I was searching on Amazon for some items. I’m embarrassed to admit what they were. Okay, I’ll say it. I was looking for Pogs. It’s not what you think! I’m not addicted. I just wanted to bolster my collection. After not touching Pogs for the past 15 years, I wanted to teach my students the magic, simplicity, and the amazing art on Pogs. Aerodynamic. Pictures of Spiderman, or Sonic, or even Martin Luther King Jr.* Like milk caps, but without the feel of 1950s post-WWII penny-pinching, steeped in 1990s pop culture.
*Yes, this is an MLK Jr Pog. That I own. Made for the Strom Thurmond racists.
This is when I happened upon a new version of Pogs.
I had so many questions. A Pog drinking game? Why? How? Why a ‘z’ at the end of Pogs? How badly are we pining for nostalgia these days? Besides for the fact you should never NEED a game to drink (Unless you’re in college because college parties are soooo lame but adult parties are soooo much cooler, promise!). The challenges and depression of life itself should be MORE than enough of a reason to drink.
This reminds me of that Jenga drinking game. Or those dice that had sex things written on them. Or Sex Monopoly, a game I just made up where if two people or more landed on ‘Pork Place’ they’d have to sex it up. Board games and childhood games should be stuck in time, left to their pre-adolescent misgivings. Dice should be left for D&D and the craps tables.
I’ll give the creators some credit. Pogs may be the perfect game for children – but it’s also perfect for drunks, the adult equivalent of children. It requires minimal reading, some hand-eye coordination, and persistence.
Hell I’ll make my own drinking/public nuisance Pog game.
- Eat whatever you find under the couch.
- Call up a relative and call them an asshole.
- Drink until you cry. Blood.
- One second of drinking for every thousand dollars in debt you are.
- Tell one person in the room how you REALLY feel about them.
- Call a stranger a racist.
- WILD: Play a drinking game that is inferior to this one (all of them).
That wasn’t so hard. Have fun, you slammer-smashing alchies!