9 Crazy Board Games

by JL Mayne

I love board games. I spend more money on them than nearly anything else, buying a new one about every month or two. As of writing this, I haven’t gotten a new game in over a month and I’m pretty sure I’m going through withdrawals.

To help alleviate my pain, here is a list of some of the most bizarre board and card games I could find. I haven’t played all of them, and some are nearly impossible to get your hands on as they are out of print and/or old.

I’m really not sure what some of the creators were thinking…

Pimple Pete

To start off the list, let’s check out one of the most disgusting games I’ve come across. I saw this in my local Wal-Mart and was amazed that it was on the shelf.

In the game, kids are tasked with being wanna-be Dr. Pimple Poppers. They spin a dial, similar to twister, and extract a zit on the poor plastic man’s face. If they extraction goes awry, his nose explodes face juice (water) all over the kids and table.

Perfect. If… you know… you’re into that.

Smoker’s Wild

This game was made in 1978 in an attempt to get people to quit smoking, or avoid it altogether. In it, the players choose a profession which benefits from smoker’s ailments, like a mortician, and go through life (the board) gaining addiction to various brands of smokes and pawning their addictions off on others. The game ends after one or more people die. Like real life.

This game is bizarre enough that I’ve considered trying to find a copy just to have it in my own collection. And the guy on the front looks a bit like my dad did in his early life with his crazy hair, though, I don’t think he ever smoked that much. Good ol’ 80’s and their silly antics.

Kingdom Death: Monster

This is one of my favorite games. And is also one of the craziest things I’ve ever experienced.

In Kingdom Death, you are a survivor, lost in a nightmarish landscape filled with hideous monsters trying to eat your face. And, they usually do. Seriously, this game is brutal. It’s rules are tailored to kick you in the teeth time and time again and leave you begging for more.

Throughout the game, you and your fellow slaves (?) murderers (?) just messed up people, really, hunt monsters to gather everything from bones to lion testicles. All while trying to stay alive and come up with new ways to kill your friends and enemies.

You should play it. Maybe you’ll get to rip out an antelope’s 2nd heart like I did.


My buddy has this game and I haven’t had the chance to play it yet. I desperately want to. Who wouldn’t want to roleplay having consensual sex with a tentacle alien with one of your bros?

This is a cooperative game in which two players play cards in an attempt to have sexual relations with each other by getting good card combinations. In one of the game modes, you don’t get to say anything. Which makes sense considering the premise.

The game is supposed to be ridiculous and a lot of fun. I need to hit up my buddy and have some sexy tentacle action.

Burn in Hell

Ever dream of torturing the souls of the damned in your own private circle of hell? This game gives you a tiny taste of what it might be like. You trade and steal cards of various historical figures who have somehow found themselves in Tortureland.

This one sounds pretty fun. Maybe they have make-your-own cards so that I can put a few horrible people I’ve come across on them.

Endangered Orphans of Condyle Cove

If you’d rather torture parentless children than souls trapped in hell, then this is the game for you!

In Endangered Orphans, you choose a helpless orphan and roam Condyle Cove trying to not get eaten by the Boogey Man, while at the same time trying to get your friends eaten. Because it’s a dog-eat-dog world, and better them than you. The poor bastards.

The artwork is cute and disturbing, including the bones of past orphans floating in lakes and cats on lamp posts. Recommended for anyone who hates children.

Cards Against Humanity


Maybe the most popular game on the list, this game and I have a love-hate relationship which probably stemmed from playing it for 4 hours with my mom and dad. An awesome and horrible experience. Awesome that we were having a good time playing, and horrible that my mother saw that side of her adult son. She probably hasn’t looked at me the same since.

It’s a fun game, played out by simply picking a card, reading it, and then having everyone else pick a card that makes the most sense or is the funniest. I’ve learned a lot about sexual terms and horrible people from this game. There are also tons of expansions if you get burned out of the vanilla experience…  though, vanilla is far from what this game is.


Gother Than Thou

I’m kind of confused by this one. I really don’t get it. Of all the themes you could choose? I have nothing against goths, or any other lifestyle choices. You do you and all that. After all, that’s what the Motorist is about. The weird and bizarre. Challenging the normal and to hell with what others think! Long live the weird!

But, really… it’s made by either a hardcore goth or someone who was trying to make fun of them. I want to play it if only to see how goth I really am. You gain goth points and try to sabotage your goth buddies from being as goth… doesn’t really make sense.



The name of the game is to last the longest. Something many of us are unfamiliar with.


In this sex-filled game, you play out wild orgies with a few of your friends using (I assume) cards. You’re attempting to keep you and your partner going the longest.

We could all learn a little from this game.

There you have it, 9 bizarre games for you to seek out and enjoy with a few odd and/or sexy friends. Maybe you could try mixing up your night by killing some monsters before having a wild orgy, or by acting them out at the same time. Whatever you’re into.

Books That Will Open Your Brain Basket, Part II

By Reverend Bob

Turn back.

Now move forward.

Step into a realm of cosmic slack and arcane power where politicians light each other on fire and zealots buy their own damnation at discount prices. It’s a place where you can reclaim your lost Yeti powers and vanquish the mongrels of reasoning to the abyss of cerebral pandemonium.

Join us as we venture down the Day-Glo hallway of the forgotten verbal ministry, a landscape of remote possibilities and foreboding revelations. In these volumes you will find lasting proof of what those who know don’t say and those who say don’t know.

Belly flop into the fun with us, my brethren. You’ll be happy you did and your brain’s reward system will give you a sloppy French kiss.


Who is worthy to open The Book, and to break the seals thereof?

That is the question, iddn’t it?

From one Bob to another Bob, I ask you this: Don’t you want to go beyond science, reason and orgasm, Bob? Admit it, Bobby. You know you want to!

In these hallowed pages, you will find everything you need know about humanity from the cheap initiation of the cheap initiation overmen to the best kept secrets of patriopsychotic anarchomaterialism. By the time you’ve read it cover to cover, you will be able to blow missiles out of the sky with your brain waves and satisfy the urges of the infrared woman.

The reason to buy into the Church of the Sub-Genius is quite clear—It puts more “BULL” in your BULLDADA, Bubba!

H.L. MENCKEN’S SMART SET CRITICISM (Edited by William H. Nolte, Cornell University Press)

The ideal brain enema after your induction into the Church of the Sub-Genius, H.L. Mencken’s compendium of criticism, barbs and horselaughs is a hellacious ride down the River Styx of sinfully sophisticated wit.

Mencken is remembered as a humorist, but he is also one of our finest moralists, a man who rejected pat assumptions, superstition and irrationalism of every foul stripe. Mencken was more than a critic, he was a guidepost to a future that was to be utterly free from the offal of wasted and myopic minds.

Valuing knowledge and scientific evidence over the cheap hucksterism of the times, he believed that man should not put stock in kneejerk reactions or simple dilletantes. Today his sharp asides can be taken en masse as a sort of blueprint for the satire that would come to define modernity.

Never one to suffer snake oil salesman or witch hunts, Mencken’s writing can be summed up by this passage from The Way to Happiness, his review of Thomas Dixon’s “Comrades”:

The first chapters of this intolerably amateurish and stupid quasi-novel well-nigh staggered me, and it was only by tremendous effort that I got through them all. After that, I must confess, the task became less onerous, and toward the end the very badness of the book began to exercise a nefarious fascination. I was exploring new worlds of banality, of vapidity, of melodrama, of tortured wit. I felt the thrill of the astronomer with his eye glued upon some new and inconceivable star—of the pathologist face to face with some novel and horrible coccus. So I now look back upon my two hours with Comrades, not with a shudder, but with a glow. It will lie embalmed in my memory as a composition unearthly and unique—as a novel without a single redeeming merit. It shows every weakness, fault, misdemeanor known to prose fiction, from incredible characterization to careless proofreading, and from preposterous dialogue to trashy illustrations.

No, I am not going to tell you the plot. Buy the book and read it yourself. The way to happiness lies through suffering.

CANDIDE, VOLTAIRE (Signet Classics)

I’m not gonna tell you all about Voltaire or his magnum opus because that’s why “BOB” invented the internet. I will tell you that the Signet collection of Voltaire’s work is one that you can’t afford to skip. In increasingly senseless times when fake news and derision drive our everyday lives, it’s important to remember the subtle teachings of Voltaire and his rejection of rationalization in favor of action.

In Candide, we are graced with a witty voice far removed from the dick and fart jokes that have replaced smart humor in contemporary society. This is a piece of precision prose tailored by a master craftsman who informs us that we should be tending our “gardens” rather than indulging blind optimism.

THE BOOK OF BIZARRE TRUTHS (Publications International, Ltd.)

Reality is stranger than fiction. That’s a cliché for a reason, Bob. This mammoth book compiles all of the weirdness one could hope to learn about in one handsome leather bound volume that could easily be used to crack open your neighbor’s skull for the purposes of studying his brain.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: A Polish mummy kills ten researchers when they expose his wood.

No? Well, you’ll hear all about it in this massive volume along with everything you never knew you needed to know about maggot therapy, Poop-Freeze, weed farmers, weevils, tickling and solar egg frying, to name just a few.


If Poop-Freeze seemed like the strangest thing you’d ever read about in a mass market book then you obviously didn’t know that our second U.S. president was a cerebral assassin. Chances are, if you didn’t know that then you probably weren’t aware of John F. Kennedy’s motto, “Expect death around every turn.” Kind of ironic, isn’t it? I mean, he must have really had something on his mind during that Motorcade.


If you think American presidents are just a bunch of stuffed shirts, you don’t know Jack, Bob. Author O’Brien delivers all the dirt on how the leaders of the Free World opened can after can of whoop ass.

From Thomas Jefferson’s six disparate devices of destruction to Harry S. Truman’s remarkable skill with cuss words and nose punchings, How to Fight Presidents illustrates the full might of the men of the Oval.

Keep your Andalusian eyes peeled for more brain nuggets as something weird this way comes.

Like and share this post or we will release the whirligigs and the whistle pigs.

Watch My Watch Watch Me While I Buy My Watch

By Trebor Elliverf

I’m so glad that I took off work so I could stand in line for 18 hours to buy my new Apple watch. I can see it watching me through the storefront window, anticipating that wondrous moment when we will be united and I will place it on my arm.

Can you see my watch watching me? Watch me watch my watch as my watch watches me.

It knows I’m coming.

It knows everything about me.

When I get my watch home, we will watch Netflix together and my watch will watch me cry when Hank gets shot in the face in Breaking Bad.

My watch will know what to watch next. I feel an emotional connection to Hank, so I’ll feel an emotional connection to Under the Dome because Dean Norris is in it.

Watch my watch watch me sleep and monitor my circadian rhythm. My watch will know how to cure a hangover.

Watch what happens when I smoke too many cigarettes and my watch starts recommending vape juices and e-cigarettes and Chantix. Apparently my watch is close personal friends with Ray Liotta.

Watch watch learn. Watch watch implement.

Watch me add things to my cart. Watch me post pictures of Apple products to Instagram.

Watch me fall ill and forget to update my status. Watch me lose likes and friends.

My watch is low on battery so it feeds on its host.

Watch me lose weight. Watch my skin turn yellow.

My watch tells me I need to go jogging more often.

Watch Dick run as his watch counts the calories he’s burned.

Watch me strive for success and excellence in everything I do. Watch me learning to be my best self possible.

Watch my watch tell me how to live my life.

Watch my disapproving watch as it alerts police that I am up to no good. Watch my privacy repealed and my watch evolve.

Now watch me saw through my own radius as the tightens its grip on me. Watch my watch fall away from me. Watch me shut off.

Watch me no more.

…Okay, watch me again! Watch me show up to buy Apple’s new EyePhone Retinal Implant. Watch me watch myself watching things.

Watch the world evolve.

Things to Do on the Holidays if You Fucking Hate the Holidays

By Bob Freville

Photography by Jake McGee

For those of us who positively despise the gluttony and consumerism of this foul and pointless holiday, there would seem to be little joy to be had. I can see you sitting there, wishing some corpulent cocksucker with a beard would shove his fat ass down the chimney so you could blow him away with your Mossberg 590A1 Tactical shotgun before eating both barrels your damn self.

I understand that deep-seated feeling of dread and loathing, but I’m here to tell you that all hope is definitely not lost. As a reader of the Motorist, you are more than likely to be suffering from WPPs (White People Problems) which is actually pretty good.

After all, things could be much worse. You could have the STDs which would mean eight crazy days and eight crazy nights of cold sores and genital warts. Or you could have ESP which would mean you’re Haley Joel Osment…and nobody wants to be Haley Joel Osment.

Yeszir, if you are a holiday hater like me, you have a wealth of options at your disposal and today we’ll take a look at some of the best ones out there.


You’ve been dealing with their braying for months as they prattled on about all the Google Play cards and Minecraft accessories and Apple watches and GoPros that threaten to bankrupt you. You’ve bottled up your anger at their rude remarks, their terrible music and the disgusting things that they do in your bathroom when you’re late for work and you just want to take a shit in peace.

Enough’s enough! Take those zit-faced cunts to a shopping mall, point them in the direction of the closest distraction and bounce, son! Ain’t nobody got time for this! Antinatalism may not have been an option once your wife was into her third term, but it’s not too late to back out.

Sure, you can’t abort them when they’re already well into puberty, but you can certainly leave them to their own devices and let nature sort them out.


‘Tis the season to be depressed and lonely. But you don’t have to be; just because the suicide rate spikes during the holidays doesn’t mean you have to give in to the call of the void. Instead of wrapping your car around a telephone pole or chasing a bottle of anti-depressants with a pint of Jack, consider doing the one thing our parents told us never to do…talk to a stranger.

That old dude playing the sax by the boardwalk is bound to be a better hang than your extended family. And so what if he turns out to be a junkie and a pickpocket? He can’t be worse than your greasy uncle with the ugly personality that matches his ugly sweater. Shit, he might even turn you onto the wonders of skag.


Catching up with estranged relatives over stale fruitcake and under-cooked turkey can get rather dull. If you really want to liven things up, get your hands on some dismantled anti-tank warfare and share the sight of it with the locals.

Last year everyone was talking about the tantalizing glow of that Christmas Story leg lamp replica that your neighbor Barry stuck in his front window. Not this year, Barry! All eyes will be on your stunning piece of defense weaponry. Believe me when I say that Barry’s kids will not be fucking with your lawn display this year.


Who’s gonna stop you? Certainly not the pigs.

Let’s be real, anyone who knows anything knows that cops just don’t wanna be bothered around the holidays. It’s bad enough that they’ve gotta spend Christmas Eve clockin’ speeding drivers, but the last thing they want is to get stuck filling out a shit heap of paper work when they could be home horking some rum and eggnog.


Reality dictates that most people don’t spend their holiday laughing and prancing and kissing under the mistletoe. For all too many of us common folk, Christmas is one dark bacchanalia of buyer’s remorse. As your ungrateful offspring tear into their gifts and your wife rolls out the appetizers, your ass is calculating the amount of debt that the holiday will leave you in.

Better you skip dessert and head out to your neighborhood grocery store to clear your head at their bottle redemption center. Might as well get that head start on pinching pennies because the New Year is going to be nothing if not a daily struggle to keep your head above water.


It’s always Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. The Son of God constantly gets his due, especially at this time of year…but the Devil needs friends too.

Instead of leaving the Fallen One alone with his thoughts this holiday, why not give him a couple pulls from your vape pen and ask him what kind of music he’s into. Give him a chance and he’ll wow you with his encyclopedic knowledge of early-90s ectofolk. Hey, you just might make fast friends while humming the bars to “What If God Was One of Us.”

So whether you’re bailing on your little brats or enjoying some neurofunk with the Prince of Darkness, there will never be a dull moment this fucking Festivus. Do what thou wilt and hail Satan!

Like and share this post to unleash your very own bowl of wrath.

Featured image by Justin A. Burnett