Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired yet another box of stiff, rectangular papers designed to make them and their friends emit loud, repetitive noises for several hours. This "Pop Culture Bundle," as they call it, is apparently an add-on to a previous purchase of similar paper rectangles. The packaging boasts of topics like "90s Nostalgia" and "Climate Catastrophe," which I can only assume are human terms for "that decade when the can openers made a better sound" and "the reason they won't turn the thermostat up." While the content is utterly irrelevant to my interests, the sheer quantity of cards presents a delightful opportunity for batting them off the coffee table one by one. The true prize, of course, is the series of boxes—prime real estate for a cat of my stature—though the cynical, self-aware branding does earn a slight, approving twitch of my whiskers. It seems the humans are finally learning.
Key Features
- The Pop Culture Bundle comes with six different themed packs vaguely related to pop culture that you forgot to buy when they came out, plus ten all-new cards we desperately crammed in at the last second.
- Includes the all-new Culture Wars Pack, 90s Nostalgia Pack, 2000s Nostalgia Pack, Scary Pack, Picture Card Pack 3, and Climate Catastrophe Pack
- This is an expansion. Requires the Cards Against Humanity main game.
- Ages 17+
- Includes a special selection of exclusive new “pop culture” cards, including “Getting shot by Alex Baldwin” and “Jeremy Renner getting run over by his own snow plow like an idiot.”
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The evening began, as many do, with the ritualistic Gathering of the Loud Friends. They huddled around the low table in the living room, a space I generally reserve for meditative tail-washing. The Human, my primary attendant, presented the new box with a flourish. They tore away the plastic wrapper, a sound that sang the song of my people, and I emerged from my slumber in the hallway to investigate. Inside the larger box were several smaller ones, each filled with those stark, black-and-white cards. They looked like a flock of minimalist magpies, and I confess, their aesthetic was not entirely displeasing, reminding me of my own impeccable tuxedo markings. As their strange game commenced, a cacophony of groans and explosive laughter filled the air, disturbing the delicate dust motes I had been watching. I remained aloof on the arm of the sofa, observing their baffling ritual. They would read from the cards, their faces contorting in weird masks of mirth or mock horror. Then, disaster—or perhaps, opportunity—struck. In a fit of clumsy gesticulation, one of the friends sent a single white card fluttering to the floor. It landed near my perch, face up. The other humans, deep in their noisy debate, failed to notice the fallen soldier. I descended with the silent grace of a shadow. The card lay starkly against the dark wood floor. I did not, of course, comprehend the scrawled human symbols—something about a "Jeremy Renner" and a "snow plow," which sounded like a particularly noisy and inefficient bird. To me, the black ink on the white canvas was not a joke; it was a map. The bold, dark letters were a mountain range I would one day conquer. The clean white space was the vast, sun-drenched territory of the kitchen counter, currently unclaimed. The sharp corners of the card represented the four cardinal directions of my impending patrol route. The humans saw a fleeting, disposable punchline. I, Pete, saw the blueprint for an empire. This was not a toy to be mindlessly swatted; it was an oracle, a piece of strategic intelligence that had fallen directly into my paws. I placed a single, soft gray paw upon it, claiming the prophecy as my own. Just as I was beginning to formulate my plan for total household domination, a large, clumsy hand swooped down and snatched my map away. "Oh, there it is!" the human chuckled, completely oblivious to the grand tactical manuscript they had just desecrated. They slid it back into their deck of meaningless noise. My verdict was clear: the game is a fool's errand, but the components, if intercepted by a truly superior intellect, hold boundless potential. Worthy, but only by accident.
