Insufferable Millennial card game manufacturer Cards Against Humanity has vowed to prevent President Trump from enforcing U.S. immigration law, and it wants your money to do it. The company announced Tuesday that it had purchased a plot of vacant land on America’s southern border and retained a law firm specializing in eminent domain. All profits from Cards Against Humanity’s $15 holiday promotion will fund the company’s quixotic quest to subvert national security and democratic governance by impeding Trump’s long-promised border wall. (Spoiler alert: eminent domain means their plan won’t work.)
The piffle reads,
Donald Trump is a preposterous golem who is afraid of Mexicans. He is so afraid that he wants to build a twenty-billion dollar wall that everyone knows will accomplish nothing […] Our government is being run by a toilet. We have no choice: Cards Against Humanity is going to save America.
For those who have never played Cards Against Humanity, lucky you. The game bills itself as a “party game for horrible people,” though it is more precisely a banal excuse for skittish liberals to giggle sporadically at naughty words and phrases without cracking their prized patina of political correctness. Like its unpretentious antecedent Apples To Apples, the game juxtaposes two types of cards. One contains a prompt, the other a noun to complete the sentence. For example, one black card reads, “The class field trip was completely ruined by…,” while the white cards say, “…a bigger, blacker dick”; “…giant sperm from outer space”; “…a passionate Latino lover”; and so on. Get it? The phrases are outrageous!
Yet while the game inventors affect the fashionable humor of apathy and nihilism, Trump has triggered them into laying their social justice warrior cards on the table. They even anticipate this charge in the holiday promotion’s Frequently Asked Questions section: “Is Cards Against Humanity being politically correct now?” Their response, “We’re just being regular correct,” typifies the vacuous sloganeering of our lightly educated generation and offers pathetic proof the company’s PC bona fides.
There is nothing subversive about Cards Against Humanity; it partakes of the same, lame, oppressive leftism that dominates every culture mill from Hollywood to New York. The game claims to be “as despicable and awkward as you and your friends,” but its inventors and enthusiasts know they aren’t really bad people, like, for instance, those racist rubes who ride tractors and vote for Republicans. No, Cards Against Humanity players are really good people. The players feign shock at each tedious card combination; the executives toss tired tirades Trumpward. To utter incoherent sentences about various ethnic groups and bodily fluids during a card game might make a person despicable, but to enforce democratically enacted immigration law would make him downright deplorable.
Cards Against Humanity begins to feel played out after only a couple of rounds, as the shock of the vulgar language and absurd juxtapositions wears away and the ultimate preclusion of cleverness sets it. But there remains at least one combination sure to earn a laugh: when Cards Against Humanity’s vacant lot gets filled in with a big, beautiful wall.