SALT LAKE CITY — Local Metal Singer Caleb Blackburn recently found that the secret to honing his screaming skills is to attempt to have any sort of meaningful interaction in a bar, multiple sources confirmed.
“I need my voice to be in tip-top shape for our band’s upcoming album. We’ve been building a lot of hype in the local scene and there are upwards of 11 people really looking forward to it,” said Blackburn while smoking his fifth cigarette of the morning. “Bars are the perfect environment to really craft my style. Where else do you have to fight so hard just to be audible that it’s almost not worth the $20 dollar drinks and permanent hearing loss? Sound familiar? Yeah, concerts are the exact same thing. It’s like training for a marathon in Nepal.”
Bar frequenter, Dillon McPherson, was impressed by Blackburn’s commitment,
“I think he was hitting on me, or maybe trying to sell me something. I woke up the next morning with his band’s business card, but the card had lipstick on it. I’m not sure what that means,” said McPherson, dialing the number on the card. “Either way, it was so cool how many times he repeated what he was saying after I couldn’t hear him. I think I said ‘What?’ like 50 times, and when I finally gave up and said never mind, he grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me, and his lips read ‘NO, I NEED THIS.’ Not impressive enough to get me to listen to his music, but I admire the effort.”
The bar owner, Daniela Wolf, is just happy to be helping out artists,
“Caleb came over to me to thank me, I think, but I couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying,” said Wolf, or, at least that’s what she tried to say, but she just mouthed the words. I’m pretty sure she just can’t hear anything anymore. “I listened to old Avenged Sevenfold and Pantera as a kid, so my dream was to create a space where people could feel unheard. I feel like I’ve done that here. The amount of people I see leaving here to go have sex with each other without having heard a word of their own conversation is inspiring.”
At press time, ‘Closing Time” was blaring throughout the bar, and Blackburn headed home in an Uber, where the driver wished he would shut up.
Uncle Jack’s swastika tattoo on his neck will only freak out the kids, but it’d make a good impression with the local police force he’d be working with. They’ll mainly want to know if it hurt when he got it, but in a way that asks, “Where can I get one?”
No fully formed adult who cuts the crusts off their sandwiches can convince me that they are capable of functioning in a normal society that has programs meant to deter children from using heroin in fourth grade.
Elliot is a huge dork. Plus he’s rich. No one is going to listen to guys like that, especially not children or other adults. We see right through their bullshit.
Kenny is part of Jack’s white supremacist gang who once talked about the urge to “smack the shit” out of a kid when he sees them wearing a bicycle helmet. Childhood safety is just not front and center for this guy.
Both of her sons use drugs, so she’s not terribly effective at deterring young people from smoking pot and meth. If anything, she inadvertently encourages it just by her presence.
This man is dull as hell. He’s one of those characters on a show who no one bothers to make a “best of” compilation on YouTube. That’s how little impact he had on us. That sort of forgettable quality will carry over into his D.A.R.E. spokesperson duties.
Talking to children about the dangers of drugs is just like being a proprietor of a modestly successful car wash. At least that’s what Bogdan believes. Unfortunately, these kids are going to be bored the entire time, which will only make the drugs sound more appealing.
This guy can’t even handle the news that his daughter died. How is he supposed to deal with the stress of giving a speech to elementary school kids?
The Phoenix meth distributor looks like he listens to Joe Rogan’s podcast, so he’ll mainly talk to the children about DMT. Unfortunately, the kids already heard these stories from the police officers who spoke before him because they also like Joe Rogan. These students really can’t catch a break.
Badger’s cousin operates a towing and vehicle repair service. On the surface that has nothing to do with D.A.R.E. leadership. But if you dig deeper, it still has no similarities. Clovis is out of his element here.
If anyone is going to get through to these kids, it’s not going to be Gretchen. What a narc.
Dr. Delcavoli is Walt’s physician and one of the top 10 oncologists in the US. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have many discernible personality traits. If you’re going to be a part of this program you’re going to need a thing the students can make fun of.
All of the kids, parents, and administrative personnel would unjustifiably detest Skyler for some reason, and they’d unrelentingly talk shit about her online. But she’s just doing her best to keep the program together despite others’ attempts to thwart it from the inside.
Emilio was Jesse’s original partner as a methamphetamine purveyor before Pinkman went with someone a little more his dad’s age. Not sure how Emilio would handle kids, but he didn’t seem to take Jesse’s departure well. You need emotional intelligence to peddle meth and talk to kids about drugs.
Walter Junior goes by Flynn now. It is unclear why someone would go with a worse name as their alias. He can’t be trusted.
Being a member of the cartel means you know a thing or two about drugs. Mainly the enterprise side of it. The kids will inadvertently learn about illegal businesses and he will inspire a handful of budding drug lord entrepreneurs in the process. This is not what the D.A.R.E. program is all about. No one knows for sure what it’s exactly about.
Every garment of clothing Marie wears will be a shade of purple. Even her shoes. This will be distracting. Most of the questions at the end of her presentation will be about her one-note fashion choices. Rightfully so.
Combo thinks this is a pro-drug seminar, so he’ll speak directly to the children about the benefits of meth. While this is effective, it’s not part of the assignment.
Carmen is the principal of a school. Kids are more likely to listen to the janitor of the school than the leader of it. Unless of course you’re a nerd student. In which case, you’re probably never doing drugs anyway.
This guy basically does this kind of thing for fun. However, he’s mainly dealt with adults who are trying to kick drugs to this point. He’ll have a tough road ahead of him if he wants to convince kids to stop using drugs they’re not even taking yet.
Debut albums are tough to be objective about, but if both PP and Kara’s Flowers hopped into a Time Machine and saw where they ended up 2002 and beyond, no one would be missing, amirite? Adam Levine needs to get a tattoo of this album’s cover art on his lower back stat! Anyway, “Phantom Planet Is Missing,” the band’s lone ’90s LP, is a fun listen front to back, and quite impressive because everyone in the band were just kids, but it sadly doesn’t hold up to the rest of their catalog, which isn’t a bad thing, as the band truly progressed and improved! Don’t get down on us for spilling the tea about this disjointed listen that is slightly all over the place, and don’t get down on 1998’s Phantom Planet because they were young and impressionable; to butcher Less Than Jake, “that’s the impression that we get”.
Like we said, debut albums may be tough to be objective about, but comeback albums are even crazier to spout rhetoric about, especially when it is regarding a band’s first LP in twelve years, making said record delay just one year shy of a Bar Mitzvah boy’s lifespan and almost as shy as he is on the dance floor with pungent cocktail shrimp breath. Still, the opening track “BALISONG” is quite a song, and enough of a reason for said LP to be ranked higher than the band’s debut studio album; through the trees, you may soak us in either Gold or Axe rank spank bank Hoobastank body spray for publicly saying such in such an incredible outlet, but like demigod Rivers Cuomo once sang in a posthumous ballad, “You know you’re wrong.” In closing, this album’s cover art is badass, and we don’t know what “ROTK” means.
Fueled by Ramen Records had quite a stronghold on the globe in 2008 with acts like Fall Out Boy, Panic (without an exclamation point) at the Disco, Paramore, and pop punk mainstays Bell Biv DeVoe leading the charge on or around TRL, so it seemed that Phantom Planet was destined for stadiums by signing with said label, but it just wasn’t in the cards for the band, and “Raise the Dead” became their lone FBR release before a hiatus the very year it was released. Pity. As they often do, eventually this record became a cult hit amongst dorks and ultra-dorks alike yearning to do the panic in or outside their great aunt Marla’s basement; yes, all of these dweebs shared the same great aunt and/or a great aunt named Marla. If you want to help this record’s legacy, literally raise the dead and spin it now.
Phantom Planet’s third and self-titled LP without question lost many jabberjaw fans with their new dirty garage influence, but we will die on this hill: This record is one of the more slept-upon records of the aughts. Producer Dave Fridmann, who previously sat behind the boards for four hipster bible albums: Mogwai’s gold-certified “Rock Action,” Sparklehorse’s slowcore classic “It’s a Wonderful Life,” The cool (The) Flaming Lips classic “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots,” and most/least importantly, the soundtrack to “The Passion of the Christ”; Jesus. If you still don’t get why we place this album in such high regard, spin tracks 1-4 right now, and realize that your crappy band could never even. Zombies may have eaten your neighbors and attention span, but PP’s self-titled effort should provide full bellies and Adderall for those focusing on shiny lights.
Before we discuss whether you dumbos believe that “The Guest” is a sophomore slump or comeback of the year, of which you should know the correct answer to, we must say two things: 1) The bassline for “Lonely Day” rivals many James Jamerson basslines, and that is a not hyperbole. 2) The current Phantom Planet lineup which includes Alex “I Was In Donnie Darko” Greenwald on vocals/rhythm guitar/various other stringed and non-stringed instruments, Sam “I Am In Maroon 5” Farrar on the aforementioned bass, Darren “I Am Not Mrs.” Robinson on lead guitar/oohs, and Jeff “Big City Rock In A Bigger City That Has A Lot Of Freeways But Nothing Free” Conrad. Also, “The Guest” is a “play it again” album as a whole sans any “skip it” tracks, and “Tchad” is a weird way to spell a name regardless if it’s for a Blake or not.
If you ever meet someone who says “Hey, want some gum?” and then hands you a tiny nugget of Dubble Bubble then you need to run in the other direction. That person is a psycopath and should be locked up. I’m convinced they stopped making this candy in the 1930s and we as a society are still working our way through the unwanted inventory.
Tootsie Rolls are a classic Halloween candy, and if you love ripping out your fillings while eating something that looks like a tiny nugget of crap then this is for you. Personally, I like candy that tastes good. If any of my kids want to eat this, I won’t stop them, but I might stop showing them affection.
I gave each of my children a half dozen eggs and told them to go to town on anyone handing out candy corn. If I ever met the CEO of Brach’s I’d spit in his face for continuing to manufacture this garbage that adults pretend to enjoy because it reminds them of being a kid. I guess I can’t blame them, I get strangely nostalgic for my childhood anytime the inside of a car smells like stale beer.
There is an old man at the end of our block who gives out Circus Peanuts for Halloween each year. Two years ago his wife died, and he had a falling out with his kids so he’s very lonely. I assume his wife killed herself and the kids stopped calling because he insists on giving Circus Peanuts to kids.
Another candy that was invented before the Industrial Revolution. If you spend your money on this and hand it out to children you should be put on a watchlist. Every Halloween I start a trash can fire in my backyard so I have a place to put any Bit-O-Honey my kids bring home.
Wax Lips are not meant to be eaten, but they still taste better than anything I’ve listed so far. My kids will put these to the side so I won’t have to make up a lie when I end up stealing them, popping one in my mouth, and then staring at myself in the mirror for seven hours until the sun comes up.
Have you ever heard the joyous laugh of children as they share candy and suddenly someone says “Oh pass me a gray one”? No, because nobody has ever enjoyed a Necco Wafer. I assume this is the type of candy they give people being detained at CIA dark sites. Hated since 1847.
Honestly, I’d rather drink a gallon of room-temperature salt water than consume one single piece of salt water taffy. This isn’t Cape Cod in 1915, we have good-tasting candy now, candy that makes me want to lie to my children, candy that demands I neglect sleep and think about where my life went wrong. This is not that candy.
The CEO of the Tootsie Corporation must dabble in illegal arms sales to hostile nations, because there is no way this company should still be in business. If my kids want to a good example of what disappointment actually tastes like then they should dig in.
Remember during the George Floyd protests when random pallets of bricks would show up seemingly out of nowhere, just begging for someone to throw a brick so cops had an excuse to spray people with tear gas? We assume those same people deliver Sixlets to random houses on Halloween in order to bum out children, and the parents of children that want to eat their candy. Sixlets isn’t candy, it’s entrapment.
Another swing and a miss Tootsie Co. I’m pretty sure if you applied a little bit of heat to Dots and melted them down they would make an industrial-strength adhesive. If any of my children showed an affinity for Dots I’d assume they were switched a birth.
Junior Mints seems like a candy invented to trick police into thinking you haven’t been drinking and driving. If you’ve kicked back one too many just pound a box of these and the cop will just think “clearly this guy was just at the dentist.” Just try not to vomit.
The absolute worst chocolate bar to ever be invented. If someone presents you an unwrapped Mounds you might dig in thinking “I can’t wait for some caramel and nougat inside this delicious milk chocolate.” Then BAM, it’s a bunch of fucking coconut that gets stuck in your teeth until you die. I accidentally ate one in a candy-stupor last year and I swear I’m still chewing some.
Only slightly better than the Mounds because the almonds add some texture. I honestly feel deep sorrow for any almond unlucky enough to end up inside an Almond Joy. I’d rather like the bottom of a Dunkin’ Donuts dumpster in August than eat one of these.
These look like the medicine you would take to help stave off Alzheimer’s. My youngest tried eating some of these last year and has had nightmares every single day since. These candies should be made illegal, if we can’t do anything about guns in this country maybe we can do something about Good and Plenty.
Oh nice, it’s the only candy that weird independent gas station on the edge of town sells. You know the place, it’s the gas station with one pump, no exterior lighting, and the oldest living man ever behind the counter. The one where there are all those blank squares on the wall from the recently removed racist signage.
Two years ago my middle son was trading people actual good candy for Smarties. The next day I took him to the doctor and told him what happened and the doctor suggested we euthanize him. I strongly considered it, I really did. I don’t know why he eats this crap. I won’t touch it.
This is candy deconstructed. When you actually see how much sugar you are eating the appeal is gone. I want all that poison hidden away. But there is a small chance I’ll steal a couple of these from my kids and do rails of them off our kitchen table and reminisce about the days I went out and had fun at night.
Fun Dip follows the same principle as Pixy Stix, it’s a bunch of sugar in a sack and you degrade yourself every time you eat it. But Fun Dip also comes with a stick, my ex-wife would actually eat the stick, when I watched her do it I thought to myself “I hope she didn’t pass this poisonous trait to our kids.” The only thing I’ll pass to our kids is crippling anxiety and alcoholism.
The only reason the Tootsie Pop is so high is because the red, and only red, outer shell tastes pretty good. The other flavors can rot in hell, and the dumb owl that tries to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop is a moron. Stay away from the center, it’s crap.
