I invented a new game. It's not copyrighted. It's in the public domain and will remain there. It's not played on a board so you don't need dice or anything like that. You can play it with 2 others but 20 is better. There are no rules per se. You can make up your own rules. It can be fun or it can be disturbing. It depends. It's kind of a mind game. No, it's not "Emotional Blackmail" although that is a fun game to play if you're in a new marriage.
I call this game "I Don't Get...."
This game has a lot to do with context, or who you're playing the game with. For example, if you are dining with your devout Baptist friends and the conversation is getting a bit dull, you might say "I don't get Jesus". That would be a winning hand because it would stimulate more meaningful conversation (or perhaps a lynching).
It's fun to play it with your first marriage partner. The ultimate body check in this context is easy. "I don't get your mother" is always a winning hand. Or how about "I don't get the stubble on your legs"? That's a winning hand also.
See how fun this can be?
So, to sum up, it's all about who you're playing the game with.
If you were to be in a room with Asians or young 25 year olds, you could say, "I don't get Stompin' Tom" and that would be a losing hand. No one would react. However, if you were to say that at a Cape Breton kitchen party, you'd be a winner.
Some topics are simply dead in the water before you even begin. "I don't get... the weather" is just silly. Or "I don't get gleaming hardwood floors" will simply not get any meaningful reaction. However, at a vegan conference, you could win by saying "I don't get quinoa". In a hockey dressing room, you could be a winner by simply saying "I don't get punching a guy in the head".
I've been playing this game for years. My favourite game is one I can play often, particularly at Christmas when I attend a lot of social events with my peers. Imagine a dinner party with 60+ year old couples. Dessert is about to be served. The men have returned from smoking their joints on the back porch. Everyone is in a good mood. The conversation turns to the trip to Machu Picchu or some other godforsaken place, their grand kids, the great time they had at Woodstock (yeah, right!) and their self importance is getting on your nerves. This is the time to strike.
"Well", says Duncan, "I don't get Van Morrison".
A fight ensues. I'm tarred and feathered.
Party over. I win!