Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with a small, brightly colored box full of what she calls "Incredibly Pointless Trivia." From my superior vantage point, I can deduce that this is yet another human ritual designed to generate loud noises and distracting hand gestures. It is a collection of cards with useless facts, organized into nonsensical categories to maximize their confusion. While the concept of "pointlessness" is a philosophy I can generally get behind, the execution seems to involve far too much shouting and not nearly enough napping. The primary appeal, of course, is the box itself, which appears to be a respectable size for a contemplative sit. The cards, being small and lightweight, hold some promise for being batted under the heaviest piece of furniture in the room. The "game," however, is a certified waste of my time.
Key Features
- How to Play: Trivia should be fun–not feel like a homework assignment. That’s why this Incredibly Pointless Trivia set by Brass Monkey is filled with some of the most pointless knowledge we could find…and even better, you’ll choose your questions from a bunch of misleading categories. For example: ‘Poison Control.’ Those are questions about either Bret Michaels or arsenic, by the way.
- Package Includes: Includes 200 unique trivia questions to test your random pointless knowledge (to say the least); each question is grouped in an entertainingly-misleading category to keep everyone guessing–literally. Comes with an instruction sheet that explains 3 different ways to play (depending on how smart you think you are). Collect them all to build the world's most useless trivia library.
- Perfect for parties: Brass Monkey’s “Incredibly Pointless Trivia Card Game Set” is the perfect party game to make sure everyone has a great time, bring it to your next college dorm game night, happy hour, or even bachelor/bachelorette party and see for yourself.
- Gift Ideas: Ideal gift for birthdays, graduation, holiday gifts, and Christmas
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The evening began, as many do, with an assault on the senses. The doorbell chimed, and a herd of my human's friends thundered in, their booming voices shattering the perfect, nap-conducive silence. They brought with them a new box, a garish thing labeled "Brass Monkey." I watched from my perch on the arm of the sofa, my tail twitching in mild irritation as my human unwrapped it. "Incredibly Pointless Trivia," she announced. The name was redundant. Was there any other kind? They began their strange ritual, pulling out the little cards and shouting questions at each other. The noise level escalated. "Is it Bret Michaels or arsenic?" one of them shrieked with a level of glee usually reserved for finding a forgotten treat in a coat pocket. The absurdity of it all was breathtaking. These creatures, who hold the keys to the pantry and the power of the can opener, were spending their precious time debating knowledge that would never help them locate the best sunbeam or predict the arrival of the food bowl. I groomed a pristine white paw, feigning indifference, but my eyes were narrowed, observing their foolish spectacle. Then, a moment of opportunity. In a fit of laughter, one of the larger, clumsier humans fumbled a card, and it fluttered to the floor like a wounded bird. It landed silently on the rug, a stark contrast to the cacophony around it. While they bickered over something called a "spork," I descended from the sofa with the liquid grace of smoke. I padded over to the fallen card. It was my prize now. I nudged it with my nose. It smelled of cardboard and blissful ignorance. A gentle tap with my paw sent it skittering across the hardwood floor, a far more engaging game than the one they were playing. I stalked my prey, batting it into a corner, then under the edge of the rug. This was a game of skill, stealth, and tactile satisfaction. The humans were oblivious, lost in their world of pointless facts. When their game was finally over and they packed the remaining cards away, they left the empty box on the coffee table. Later, when the house was mine once more, I inspected my true reward. I stepped into the box, turned around three times, and settled into a perfect, snug loaf. The cards were mildly amusing diversions, but the box... the box was sublime. The Brass Monkey brand, in its infinite human foolishness, had accidentally created the perfect napping vessel. A worthy acquisition, indeed.
