The Worst Board Game of All Time

Since then, it's been proven that Police Academy's Michael Winslow was not behind her making it only sound like she was saying the n-word and being attacked by a helicopter. So she's spent a couple weeks apologizing. From what I understand, she was trying to make a philosophical point about how faggy it is that she's not allowed to be racist. On Larry King she explained that she wasn't "DISSING" anyone. I know what you're thinking, Anyone with that level of mastery over the Black language can't possibly be a racist! Case closed. Except Dr. Laura said "dissing" in the same way someone might fuck a jar of pickles in an unlocked room--very nervously, with a pained look on her face and certain what she was doing was wrong. Dr. Laura speaks Ebonics like a douchebag ordering a burrito in Spanish.

Every white person thinks they're the magic one who gets to say racial epithets. We're a very insecure people and it makes us feel like a part of the group when you give us permission to be racist. But you can't just jump right in. For example, if someone asks me why I seem to date mostly black girls, I don't scream, "Because they're scared of ghosts and can't hold down a job!" I have to start off by saying something about my own people like, "Because white women have mustaches" or "Clapping to the downbeat causes AIDS." After 30 minutes of that, maybe then I can finally say, "Because black women make flattering, Chewbacca-like sounds in bed." But never, ever do I get to say the n-word. I thought white people finally learned that when it cost us Dave Chappelle.

The outburst has ruined Dr. Laura's radio career, but more importantly it has ruined board game night at my house. You see, my top hobby is owning stupid shit and for many years I've enjoyed The Official Dr. Laura Board Game. But now after this n-word business, a session of The Dr. Laura Board Game sounds like Dog the Bounty Hunter reading the comments under every YouTube video with black people in it.

This category is why every game of The Dr. Laura Board Game ends in a confused fist fight. When you roll NAG, each player takes turns responding to the dilemma on a card by pretending to be Dr. Laura. Warning: You should always check the area behind you for black people before attempting this. Then everyone votes on who sounds the most like the racist radio host. Here's the problem: Even your stupidest friend will soon realize that Dr. Laura's only consistent personality trait is Bitch, so after a couple rounds the game becomes a contest of who can say the most horrible things.

Now remember, on NAG it's our job match Dr. Laura's answer as closely as possible. Here's mine:

Dear Angela,

Did you seriously call me, Dr. Laura, to get permission to be a passive aggressive bitch? You might as well ask if it's OK to use your father's phone number as your stripper name. Go ahead, but there are better, more direct ways at getting back at him. If you're going to use dad's wedding as a platform for your anti-wedding gift stance, then make them a photo scrapbook of your favorite abortions and black eyes. Or maybe you could let the guy get married without having to deal with his whore daughter's drama for just one single day?

How'd we do?

I'm not sure how you answered, but the real Dr. Laura said to buy them a modest gift. I almost certainly missed harder than you did. So this round goes to you: one point.

Our next category is PREACH. In PREACH, we don't have to pretend to be Dr. Laura. We just answer as if we had our own radio talk show and hope our advice is "as good" as Dr. Laura's. We fail if our advice is "not as good." Here we go:

Dear Caller,

If she's making fun of your clothes, her family probably has more money than yours. That means that it will be more socially damaging if you were to, for example, go to her house and have a public, roaring shit on her front steps. Her parents will have an awesome time explaining that at the Rotary Club. And what's your enemy going to do to retaliate? Shit on your steps back? Who would notice another pile of human shit in that toilet your white trash family calls a front yard? Then get a T-shirt made with her picture on it that says, "This bitch's face was mangled in a tampon factory and all I got was this lousy T-shirt."

How'd we do?

Dr. Laura suggested that the caller shrug his or her shoulders and say, "Sorry about that." That's a lot like giving a bully a hand-written letter that says, "You were right to identify me as a victim." So even though I think this was supposed to be impossible, I'm giving my insane defecation scheme a rating of "better" than Dr. Laura's advice, so I move ahead six spaces. I'm pretty sure you just told the caller to choke the girl, so you don't go anywhere.

Our next category is PREACH again. So no n-words.

Dear Caller,

You told your boyfriend you were going to leave him over casual marijuana use? What a tragedy for him. I hope his drug dealer knows some uptight judgmental prudes he can hook him up with. Lady, if you're upset about him occasionally smoking marijuana, you probably think adventurous sex is doing it when it's not his birthday. You spend an hour every day complaining that he's not a unicorn. The only reason he keeps trying to finger your dry, sexless mound is because it's the only time you don't talk about cat names. You are so frigid that your vagina has 20 different words for "snow" and all of them are blood-curdling screams.

How'd we do?

Well, Dr. Laura says the drug abusing boyfriend has been dishonest for too long and has no character. She didn't really give any advice, but I guess neither did I. So by default, I'll consider my advice to be "as good" as Dr. Laura's this time. I imagine anything you said had to be better than patting a controlling bitch on the back for taking her boyfriend's only happiness away, so you get two points.

Our next category is NAG. So we pretend to be Dr. Laura again. Get started by shouting a few racial slurs at the screen.

Dear Michelle,

If you're failing with your husband and your life, you will probably fail as a mother. Are you sure you're even pregnant? You sound like the kind of person who might accidentally swallow a basketball and jump to conclusions. Listen to you: Every single line sounds like a crying baby left in a parking lot. The fact that your husband could maintain an erection during that tells me something: crying babies arouse him. So yes. You're stuck like that. You're the kind of person who would interrupt her own fake suicide to complain about the cost of razor blades, Real Talk.

How'd we do?

Dr. Laura told the lady she was stupid and that she should try church because "religion can have a very elevating impact." I wasn't even close. One point for you.

The next category is PREACH, so answer as yourself.

Dear Caller,

I say have whatever fun you can before your girlfriend realizes she's a lesbian. And then maybe get your head fitted for a helmet, because you're unsafely stupid. You called a religiously moralist radio host to ask if she liked the idea of you sticking your dong in your girlfriend's lesbian fling? Did you think she was going to give you some Bible quote about an ass-to-ass dildo, call you an n-word, and send you on your way?

How'd we do?

She absolutely didn't give a Bible quote about an ass-to-ass dildo. So I move back four squares and you get two points.

You're doing very well. I'm starting to think you might be the real Dr. Laura. Our next category is NAG, so we're once again pretending to be Dr. Laura in our response. Or at least I am.

Dear Denise,

Karate senseis can't help their dripping sexuality. When you summon ancient powers, a lot of that mystical energy is going to accumulate in the loins. You're lucky your seven-year-old son isn't pregnant. Let me tell you a story, my n-word, of when I, Dr. Laura, was young. I was 78, in a field of cherry blossom trees. The chopping sounds of karate loggers filled the air. The sensei inside of me grunted, nnnhhh, as his pelvic fireball blasted through my cervical mucus plug. Parts of me were everywhere, quivering in the night as each attempted to regenerate into my body's chosen form. The villagers thought fire could stop it. They were wrong. So you don't fucking tell me about karate, Denise.

How'd we do?

Dr. Laura advised that the caller pull their kid out of karate class and tell the karate instructor that he's "rude, crude and exhibits low-life behavior." That's a great idea, Dr. Laura. Just wildly speculate on who's responsible for your kid's G-rated potty mouth and then confront a master of karate about it. What's with white people and their ridiculous inability to sense danger?

Hold on a second--KARATE BONUS! I'm still not quite sure on how the rules of this game work, but we both move ahead to the semi-final space!

In this final round, we once again get NAG. So with your best Dr. Laura impression, respond to this caller's dilemma.

Dear Jan,

Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

How'd we do?

Sorry, I sort of forgot what we were doing for a second. Let me see... okay, wow, Dr. Laura advised not only that Jan should tell her husband's wife that she's also her husband's wife, but to provide the paper work that proves it. Dr. Laura says, and I quote again, "Show her your marriage certificate and no divorce papers." Right, because if your husband's ex-wife runs up to you with their old marriage certificate in one hand and nothing in the other, that's a conversation you're going to finish. What a crazy bitch. Does Dr. Laura construct her advice backwards from domestic violence crime scenes?

I obviously get no points because I was laughing, which means: