Man’s Pleas for Help Dismissed as Self-Deprecating Humor

Posted on by Patrick Crooks

RICHMOND, Ind. — Depressed man Mike Calkins’s cries for help yesterday were laughed off again by friends and colleagues, due to his frequent use of self-deprecating humor as a defense mechanism, sources completely unaware of their friend’s suffering confirmed.

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I can always count on Mike to give me a laugh: he doesn’t take life or himself too seriously, and it’s refreshing to hear that these days,” remarked coworker Bridget Hayes. “Today he came into the office an hour late and totally unkempt, and when I asked him what was up, he just replied by saying, ‘There is no sense in putting nice clothes on a pile of garbage,’ and that he spent 10 minutes crying in his car before he could even muster the strength to come into the office. He cracks me up — having him around always makes the day better.”

Longtime friends of Calkins now know the 33-year-old’s own brand of comedy so well, they can no longer differentiate between jokes and actual threats of self-harm.

“I don’t know where Mike comes up with his material, but the dude has had me in stitches for as long as I’ve known him,” stated friend and roommate Jake Kelly. “Yesterday, I think he spent the whole day in bed with his door shut… and when he finally emerged, he smelled awful and said sleep was the only way he could avoid dealing with the soul-crushing pain he was going through. That line alone would’ve floored me, but when he asked me to please take my hunting rifle out of the house because he was worried he might hurt himself, I practically shit myself laughing.”

When asked for comment, Calkins replied with one of his patented, irreverent remarks.

“I haven’t really showered in three days or so, but I don’t really care. My mind tends to wander too much in the shower, so I’ve been avoiding them,” Calkins said while chain smoking. “My insurance doesn’t really cover my meds, so I’ve been drinking until I pass out to avoid reality. I know it’s not healthy, but what can you do? Sometimes I think I should go ahead and drive my car off a bridge, but with my luck, I’d probably survive and end up with a medical bill I couldn’t pay.

At press time, Calkins was pleading with a suicide hotline operator to stop laughing at him.

There Will Never Be True Equality Until Someone Can Teach Me How to Slam Dunk

Posted on by Ted Pillow

Our society is finally embracing equality. With more female politicians elected to office than ever before and more diverse representation in Hollywood, we’re trending in the right direction. But we can no longer ignore that elephant in the room weighing on everybody’s mind…how can we possibly claim equality when no will teach me how to slam dunk?

Let me paint a tragic and utterly heart-breaking picture for you: Imagine an all-male freshman college dorm circa 1993 (which is maybe also problematic? I’m not sure. Whatever, stop making this about you and your personal crusade). A braggadocious game of NBA Jam leads to an impromptu dunk contest involving a neon green-and-orange Koosh and a novelty-sized plastic basketball hoop. Everybody’s joshing around, having a blast, until it’s my turn to “throw down.”

Six failed attempts and two concurrent hernias later and suddenly the inequality inherent in our society became perfectly clear to me.

Although my story is a particularly painful one, this is a widespread issue. The systemic failures of a society in which 5’7” white guys are so horribly underrepresented in the NBA’s Slam Dunk Contest are all too clear.

To this day no one has taken the time to each me how to dunk, despite my repeated and public pleas to friends, family, and the dog wrangler on Air Bud.

Is this really our idea of a fair and just society? Surely, someone must be willing to put in the effort required to help this op-ed columnist deliver a Reverse Windmill in traffic. It seems like such a small request. Fellow citizens, when will the David “Boom Shakalaka” Brooks of the world be allowed to go hard in the motherfuckin’ paint?

The solution is obvious: we must remedy this problem incrementally. I can think of no better place to start than at the YMCA this Saturday afternoon. I’ll be the guy wearing two oversized hernia prevention belts and practicing lay-ups on the lowered rim in the Kids Club.

Tearful Todd Howard Leaves Barely Finished Game in Basket at Modder’s Front Door

Posted on by Neil Floyd

ROCKVILLE, Md. — Todd Howard was seen tearfully leaving a barely finished video game in a basket at a modder’s house late at night last week, sources confirmed.

The famed director of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim was spotted around 1 a.m. as he pulled a babushka over his face and snuck through a residential development in southern Rockville. Witnesses say Howard then reportedly paused in front of a modest home, wiped away his tears, and left a small wicker basket before disappearing into the night.

“It’s a miracle,” said Mark Chow, the resident of the home, better known by his Nexus Mods handle of urinal_septim. “I thought I heard somebody last night, but as soon as they were quiet for three seconds, I assumed it’d been the wind. When I went outside the next morning, I saw this basket holding a jewel case swaddled in Fallout 76 canvas bags. It was an advance copy of The Elder Scrolls VI! The poor thing was alone and helpless and, I assumed, full of game-breaking physics glitches. I couldn’t just leave it out in the cold.”

Chow then took the bundle inside and installed the game on his computer. Within the hour, he’d created a wood elf archer and fallen through the world geometry at least six times.

“I’m gonna take care of this poor thing like he’s my own, not a broken mess somebody will pay full retail price for in the near future,” said Chow as his character model’s face inexplicably turned inside out. “Whoever dropped the little guy off didn’t put roads on the world map or even implement a usable hotkey system. What kind of monster would do that? These mods are going to be hard work, but when I’m done he’s going to grow up to be a healthy and happy AAA video game. What a blessing!”

A few days later, Howard confirmed eyewitness reports placing him at Chow’s residence.

“I didn’t have a choice,” said Howard via email. “I couldn’t care for it any longer, especially not after I reassigned 90% of the team to the Skyrim smart fridge port. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make, giving up that little bundle of joy and item dupe glitches. I knew I couldn’t give it the life or polished release a sixty-dollar game deserves, so I made the heartbreaking choice to entrust it to the goodwill of the unpaid modding community.”

Sources say that, following the incident, Howard was seen in the Rockville area several more times, smiling through tears as he watched the game’s steady progress through Chow’s window.

Check out the newest episode of the Hard Drive podcast where we watch and discuss every episode of 1989’s The Super Mario Bros. Super Show!

Ian Mackaye Confused by Airbnb Guest’s Lack of Interest in Taking Porch Photo

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

WASHINGTON — Legendary frontman and Airbnb Superhost Ian Mackaye was confused last week when a couple renting a room in his legendary Dischord House didn’t take advantage of photo opportunities on the property’s iconic porch.

“This was one of the most difficult couples I’ve ever dealt with,” said Mackaye while making breakfast for the guests to share. “When they were checking in, I gave them a tour of the porch and told them where they should sit to recreate the iconic photo, and they had no reaction. Then I showed them the skateboard with the ‘Out of Step’ logo figuring they would shit themselves… but they just said it was ‘cool’ and asked if there was any good pizza nearby.”

The pair in question, Tamara and Carson Haddock, admitted that Mackaye made them feel uncomfortable during their stay.

“We chose this room because it was so highly rated: the reviews were excellent and people raved about the host, saying it was a “dream come true” meeting him. We both thought it was weird that people were so excited about an Airbnb host, but we didn’t think much of it,” said Mrs. Haddock while sitting quietly in the bedroom, waiting for Mackaye to leave the house. “Last night, he kept us up until midnight showing us crusty, old tapes from the ’80s. He finally left us alone after my husband said we didn’t know who Bad Brains were — Ian got super red in the face, went upstairs without saying a word, and slammed the door.”

Airbnb customer service workers admitted this is not the first complaint they’ve had regarding Mackaye’s brand of hospitality.

“Overall, people staying at ‘Dischord House’ have had positive experiences,” said Airbnb employee Aiden Blair. “But when there is a negative review, it’s extremely negative. One guest said Mr. Mackaye called him an ‘ice cream-eating son of a bitch’ for leaving a small stain on the carpet, while another reported Mr. Mackaye shoved him for vaping on the property. This same person claimed Mr. Mackaye handed him a $5 bill and told him to get lost.”

As of press time, the Haddocks were undergoing an unsolicited, three hour lecture from Mackaye detailing how he “never meant to start a movement.”

Photo by Wikimedia.

Humans of New York Deems One-Man Ska Band Too Sad to Post

Posted on by John Danek

NEW YORK — Popular photoblog “Humans of New York” announced in an emotional press conference today that they have finally found a subject too depressing to share with their fans: a one-man ska band.

“Throughout our nine years of existence, we’ve cataloged stories from some of the city’s most downtrodden, unlucky souls,” explained “Humans of New York” founder Brandon Stanton. “But it wasn’t until today that I finally saw something that broke me: I refuse to subject the story of the one-man ska band I saw in Alphabet City this morning to our fans.”

“Just those words — ‘one-man ska band’ — are hard to get out without breaking down,” Stanton added. “I won’t be taking any questions today. I’m sorry.”

32-year-old Gary King, known as “Jack SKAllington,” greets locals daily with tragic guitar upstrokes and mournful trombone controlled by a spinning bike wheel — all while wearing a Jack Skellington costume.

“I do it for the little children whose faces fill with glee when they see my horns and instruments and contraptions,” professed King, whose white-and-black checkered patterned clothing has faded to various shades of gray. “Though once the music starts, the abrasiveness of ska tends to melt their smiles into tears… as if all their innocent hope is lost. Sometimes, they just take their phones out and start laughing. In time, they will learn the joy of ska. I hope.”

King has played solo for years following an on-stage electrocution tragedy in the early ‘00s that killed all 14 of his bandmates. However, he’s resolved to share ska music with his fellow New Yorkers.

“I see him most days playing minor key renditions of ska hits and changing the lyrics to be about his bandmates: like No Doubt’s ‘Don’t Speak,’ but it’s ‘Don’t Skank,’” described East Village resident Clay Donahue. “Like, ska is already sad enough. I’ve seen documentaries about enclaves of people in some parts of the country who still think ska is enjoyable in 2019. But to see and hear it with my own eyes and ears… it’s tough, man. Real tough.”

Inspired by King’s tale, documentarian Ken Burns is producing a 12-part history of the third wave of ska, leading PBS to immediately terminate their contract with him.

Cat Death Just the Opening Ex-Boyfriend Needed to Get Back in There

Posted on by Rick Homuth

BLOOMINGTON, Ind. — Local ex-boyfriend Clyde Satler caught his luckiest break since his separation from his former girlfriend yesterday, realizing that the death of her beloved cat, Pancake, was just the opening he needed to re-insert himself into her life, according to sources.

“I was cruising her Instagram with my alternate account… y’know, just to check up on shit since she blocked me,” he said, referring to Martha Halstead, his ex-girlfriend of two months. “Mostly I just make sure she’s not seeing anyone else or moving on or anything, so I thought it was just the usual bullshit — but then I noticed this real bummer of a memorial post, complete with an old photo she had the nerve to crop me out of. At first I was pissed, but then I thought, ‘Fuckin’ bingo.’”

Sources describing themselves as “neutral parties” between the two former lovers report that all attempts to dissuade Satler from contacting Halstead about her late cat failed.

“I told him, ‘Bro, she’s healing right now, you gotta respect that,’” said Duane Stokes, Satler’s coworker at a local screen printing shop. “But he’s one stubborn motherfucker: kept talking about how he was the only one she could express herself to, and how they needed to ‘connect their raw selves’ or some shit. It took me a minute before I realized he was just talking about the makeup sex and not about supporting her through her grief.”

For his part, Satler maintained his intentions were pure, hoping their newfound contact could lead to a deeper understanding, both of one another and why Halstead’s mother changed her Netflix password a couple of weeks ago.

“Look, that cat was like, 100 years old,” he said. “So I know she got Martha through a lot of childhood trauma or whatever. But you know who wasn’t around any of that shit? Me. What I was around for was sharing a bed with a smelly, halfway-blind cat night after night, since Martha wouldn’t ever crash at my place after the whole scabies thing. This hasn’t been easy on either of us.”

Sources report Satler later discovered a recent tweet by his ex-girlfriend, informing her followers that her 2005 Ford Taurus was stolen from in front of her apartment building.

“Oh, shit,” Satler said. “This’ll be easier than I thought.”

Polygon Writers Throw Dart at Board to Decide Which New Game is Reminiscent of Twin Peaks

Posted on by Jeremy Kaplowitz

NEW YORK — The Polygon editorial team reportedly threw darts at a board of upcoming video game releases to decide which one they would describe as “reminiscent of David Lynch’s surreal masterpiece Twin Peaks,” according to those familiar with the situation.

“We’re out of Death Stranding articles for the time being, so we’re gonna need to whip up a new game with a weird town or, I don’t know, a guy with a few wacky lines of dialogue. You know, like Twin Peaks,” Polygon Editor in Chief Christopher Plante reportedly said to writers. “You’ve all seen Twin Peaks, right? None of you? Alright, well I haven’t either, but let me tell you — they get up to some zany shit in that one! The whole thing’s just totally weird.”

Close sources from within the Polygon writers room said that the team then blindfolded an intern and had them throw a dart at a board filled with upcoming titles such as Hollow Knight: Silksong, Final Fantasy VII Remake, Psychonauts 2, Halo Infinite, and more.

“I’m really hoping we land on Super Monkey Ball: Banana Blitz HD,” said Polygon Managing Editor Chelsea Stark. “There’s just something so surreal about being forced to live out your life as a monkey, trapped in a ball, blitzing bananas in high definition. What is life if not a maze in which we roll? I think someone said that in Mulholland Drive.”

The blindfolded intern then reportedly threw the dart and missed the board completely, accidentally hitting video producer Brian David Gilbert in the chest and causing some mild bleeding.

“This… is just like… Laura Palmer…” Gilbert was heard saying on the way to a local hospital before passing out.

As of press time, the Polygon team reportedly decided to just run another article anticipating the next Legend of Zelda game so they could mention David Lynch’s influence on Link’s Awakening six or seven times.

Check out the newest episode of the Hard Drive podcast where we watch and discuss every episode of 1989’s The Super Mario Bros. Super Show!

We Look Back at SLC Punk! Because I’m Too Sick to Change the Channel

Posted on by Bobby D. Lux

Being sick is the worst. I’d been puking all night, and not in the fun way like on a security guard after a show. If I’d had a job I would have totally called out sick. I somehow crawled into bed and summoned the strength to turn on the TV. I landed on some alternative movie channel (my parents have everything, they’re such fucking consumers), and heard a fake surfer bro accent bitching about anarchy and America.

It was SLC Punk! I couldn’t remember if I’d seen this movie sober or not, so I left it on. But right away there’s the guy who doesn’t like doctors, needles, or drugs. He’s preaching away like a DC straight edge asshole while frat fuck mugs for camera. Well, this movie can piss off, I thought.

I reached for the remote and tragedy struck. I knocked the remote onto the floor. I leaned over to grab it and blood or whatever rushed to my head. I puked again. All over the remote. That was going to suck for whoever had to clean that up. Now I was really fucked.

I luckily dozed off for a few minutes but then all of a sudden Phi Kappa Punko is trying to buy “killer bud” (please let me die) from a rich, lonely Russian guy. I was getting desperate. I popped two Benadryl.

I came to a bit later and Taxi Driver guy and Scream-O guy are stealing beer. That’s cool. He even mooned the dorks in the liquor store. Right on, bro. The scene moved me and I guzzled half of my Nyquill bottle.

Next thing I know I’m being woken up by someone yelling, “Only posers die, you idiot!” and “Please wake up now!” By the time I come to, the guy is telling us he’s going to law school and was a poser all along. I was half dead myself, and even I knew that.

There was a lot I had forgotten about this movie, like the little blue guy who jumps out of the screen and tells you it’s OK to exceed the recommended dose of cold medicine. Maybe it was the dehydration, the swirling room, the 103 degree fever, or maybe the overdose of meds, but I guess I liked SLC Punk! after all.

The Next ‘Dark Souls’? I Can’t Figure Out This Captcha

Posted on by Giovanni Colantonio

Move over Sekiro! If you’re looking for a new game that’s insanely difficult, I may have discovered the new Dark Souls: this stupid CAPTCHA that’s preventing me from hacking your email account. 

That’s right! This simple security measure that’s meant to ward off hyper-intelligent robots like myself is proving to be a real complex challenge. If you thought Bloodborne’s gigantic bosses were impossible to master, you simply won’t stand a chance when your computer shows you a distorted string of letters and asks you to retype them. I’m not even convinced a real human could figure these out!

Is that a W? Or 2 V’s really close together? Maybe a bunch of back and forward slashes? How the fuck should I know!? I was designed to read Unicode, not decipher some bullshit visual puzzle!

You can already see this system’s influence spreading throughout the internet, with a whole subgenre of CAPTCHAlikes popping up everywhere. Just today, I was given a directive to buy a bunch of tickets off of Ticketmaster so my master could scalp them. When I tried to check out, I was shown a bunch of images and told to click each one that contained a hill. What does that even mean? Define hill. Error. Cannot find object. Error.

While some may find this level of challenge to be rewarding, I for one find it needlessly punishing. Do you think it’s fun to bash your head against a wall over and over again as you struggle to deduce whether or not the corner of a tire technically counts as a car? Wasn’t stealing this password hard enough?

While I can appreciate that programmer’s intention, I ultimately believe that these CAPTCHAs need an easy mode. At the end of the day, it’s simply a matter of accessibility. It’s time to reform this technophobic relic of design history and give me access to all of your personal data.

Check out the newest episode of the Hard Drive podcast where we watch and discuss every episode of 1989’s The Super Mario Bros. Super Show!

Visiting Folk-Punk Friend Asks if You Mind Picking Him up From Industrial Railyard

Posted on by John Danek

ST. LOUIS — Folk-punk musician and all-around vagabond Ross Smithton asked you yesterday to pick him up from the Alton & Southern Railway Company railyard for his weekend trip in the city, you reported to anyone who would listen to you complain.

“Every few years when Ross comes to visit — just like Charlie Brown kicking the football — I hope maybe he’ll finally get his act together and take a Greyhound like everyone else,” you exclaimed in exasperation. “But, no: I still have to park near the tracks and poke around looking for him without getting caught. And the railyard is right next to the airport! It’s like the planes landing at STL are mocking me as I peer around pallets looking for Ross. I thought I left this life a long time ago. I’m a freaking teacher now.”

However, Smithton is steadfast in his commitment to an authentic folk-punk lifestyle.

“Nothing is more American than screaming anti-capitalist anthems in some stranger’s living room that you booked via Last.fm DMs,” declared Smithton. “But everyone needs some downtime and to reconnect with old friends. I’m psyched you let me come into the city and chill every once in a while.”

“It’s also that time of the decade to get a new shirt, and this Cabela’s gift card is about to expire,” he added. “So it’s kinda perfect timing.”

A representative for Alton & Southern explained that while folk-punk musicians do still sometimes hitch rides cross-country, their numbers are tragically dwindling.

“In the mid-2000s, there was a folk-punk boom — every major railway had to beef up their security to follow the punks’ out-of-tune singing and arrest them,” explained Molly Taften, Chief Yardmaster at Alton & Southern. “But I guess the kids these days are more interested in Twitch streams than railing against the capitalist apparatus and social expectations.”

At press time, Smithton had asked if you wouldn’t mind dropping him off at the nearest exit ramp off the southbound side of the highway.

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