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Frank Herbert’s DUNE: The Drinking Game!

Sandworms Love it, Fremen Approve!

Around a year and a half ago, I was out at a local pub with a few friends of mine (Editor’s Note: Just say the writing staff of Nonstop Karate. -Ed.) when we all began reminiscing about the books and movies that truly inspired our childhoods.  Most had been adequately represented in today’s culture by reboots, sequels, prequels, and gritty reimaginings; that is to say, the traditional way to honor anything that was remotely successful or “good” in the past.

One franchise that we realized hadn’t really gotten much attention lately (aside from a tepidly received SyFy channel mini-series) was Frank Herbert’s wildly popular 1965 science fiction series, “Dune”.

So we did the only thing we could think of to rectify the situation. We turned it into a drinking game.

The game you are about to learn about can be quite fun, although to be honest it has only been played once amongst my circle of friends, and even then in a very prototypical form (as in we were inventing it as it was played.) If nothing else, you will get drunk pretending to be an alien worm-riding space baron.

Be aware that this is isn’t one of those terrible “games” where you watch the film adaptation and take a shot every time someone says “spice”.  This is a true gentlemen’s sport with real, complex rules. A game of strategy and nuance. And beers.  Lots of beers.

If you’ve never heard of “Dune” or you don’t like getting wasted with a group of idiots, you should probably just stop reading now.

If you like one or both of those things, read on! Read the rest of this entry


The Bucket List

Let’s finish out the week three-for-three for list entries. Why? Thematically speaking, it’s only right.

Also, lists are really easy to write. Granted, I still ramble like a motherfucker when I make a list, but for some reason, largely psychological, lists are easier.

Not that stringing together bad words in new and fun combinations for the Michael Bay articles is hard, but you get my drift.

Today we’re going to examine all the things I want to do before I die.

Viking Funeral + Open Bar = I Won't Be Going to Hell Alone

Most of them are profoundly stupid.

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People with Whom I Do Not Want to Get Drunk.

Writer’s Block is a bitch, ain’t it?

In celebration of my inability to write, we’re going right back to the well all the way from far flung last week.


Drinking, and I mean the actual ceremony of drinking, calling friends, going out, grabbing a booth or table, setting up shop, and going to work, not sitting in your living room, imbibing alcohol, is a very precise thing.

There are a lot of very important factors to bring into play.

Where are you going? Is this a crawl? A meet and greet? A bullshit session?

Why are we drinking? Is it in celebration? Mourning? Catching up? Trying to meet someone?

Who’s coming? Like it or not, you don’t actually have one giant circle of friends, but, instead, travel amongst many different spheres. Old friends from home, friends you went to school with, people you know from work, from extra-curriculars, etc, they won’t all get along, so you have to make sure you have the proper mix for a good night out.

Last week we examined the dream team I’d want to bring out for a long weekend, now we look at the nightmare squad.

Who? Pete Dunham. Green Street Hooligans.

Wass all 'is 'en?

Green Street Hooligans is a lot like Fight Club, it’s about a boy who goes looking for how to become a man in a world that doesn’t have any use for them, but his search brings him to all the wrong places. They’re both gleeful adolescent fantasies until halfway through the third act when the movies ask “is this really what you want?”
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A List of People and Characters with Whom I’d Like to Get Drunk

Guys, I got annihilated this past weekend. Like, super drunk. I turned into the kind of Matt who likes to yell things at really inappropriate times “like, shut up baby and sit on my face,” “somebody fight me,” and my personal favorite, “I AM FOREVER.”

And it was good. I needed a weekend like that in a really bad way, and I’m suddenly a lot less stressed, but now, incredibly poor until the next paycheck.

However, as a side effect of growing up getting older, my drinking team has dwindled. People are married, or they moved away, or I moved away, or they work more, or what was once funny behavior in college is no longer charming, but kind of annoying, etc.

The point is, I’m putting together a dream team of people, both real and fictional, for the ultimate night spent drinking.

The Brains: Anthony Bourdain

There goes my hero/ watch him as he goes/

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