CHICAGO — Local pooch Hamburger is reportedly hiding under his home’s kitchen table from Fourth of July fireworks, not due to fear of the sound, but because of the jingoistic, colonial mindset that they represent, skeptical sources confirmed.
“The state of our nation’s affairs is absolutely abhorrent,” said the four-year-old rescue before pausing to bark at a squirrel and stare into the distance for 30 seconds. “How can we stand by and wave little flags of Stars and Stripes that were made in factories overseas by underpaid workers as we continue to funnel billions into our military, deny our citizens their basic rights, and raise kids full of so much hatred and vitriol for one another? I can’t celebrate this country and neither should you. Good boys stand against fascism in all forms.”
Hamburger’s owner, Kevin deLoane, reaffirmed the dog’s political activism.
“I thought he just hated fireworks because they are so fucking annoying and they scare the crap out of him when he’s trying to nap, but this seems to be a deeper issue,” said deLoane. “Last week he chewed up mail from the Clinton foundation, bit our neighbor with the thin blue line sticker on his car, and spent ten minutes aggressively barking at the American flag outside the post office. The most troubling thing now though is he won’t poop unless it’s on a well-manicured lawn with Trump or Biden sign. And when he finally does poop he stares at the sign and unleashes powerful turds that I need more than one bag to clean up.”
John Peterson, the neighbor who was bitten by Hamburger last week believes the dog needs proper training to learn to love this country.
“That dog is out of control. I know for a fact he was brought up here from Mexico illegally by a local dog rescue, so if Hamburger doesn’t like America he can leave. Kevin needs to raise a more patriotic dog. If you can’t depend on a dog to defend this country, then it won’t defend your home,” said Peterson while walking his Rottweiler named. “Tank here knows what this country represents. He only marks his territory on a strip of grass that looks like Puerto Rico. But these coddled dogs can’t handle when their treats aren’t organic, or when people only celebrate the greatest day of the year.”
Following the rise of opinionated dogs, TNT Fireworks is reportedly piloting a firework that emits a frequency that only certain dogs can hear called “The Quake Maker Dog Whistle.”
Front Bottoms fans freely admit the music sucks, but they’re probably not joking about this particular record. Although “Going Grey” is a solid effort overall, its over-polished production and repetitive song structures are at odds with TFB’s usual scruffiness and dynamism. The cleaner vocals throughout often fall flat, since Brian’s singing is best when he embraces his complete inability to sing. However, for all the online bitching, this album is replete with the group’s signature wry charms, and many of the tracks have become setlist staples. You can bet that the people who still make angry posts about “Going Grey” on Reddit are also singing along to every word of those songs at shows.
“Theresa” is the third entry in the beloved “Grandma Series” of EPs, where the boys release studio versions of select songs from their pre-label albums (which, get the fuck out of here, we are not ranking), and each one is named after the band’s grandmothers. This is the weakest of those EPs so far, but it still slaps harder than our grandmas slapped our parents growing up. Putting this fantastic record so low hurts me more than it hurts you, but the other two Grandma EPs have six tracks apiece, including one new song for both, while “Theresa” doesn’t have a cool new bonus song. Grandmas shouldn’t skimp on cookies or EP tracks — that’s a slappable offense.
Here we have the Front Butts’ latest dropping — er, album drop. As always, the band shifts their style up without sacrificing the impressionistic storytelling and unpretentious vulnerability that made them darlings of the fourth-wave emo era (whatever the fuck that is). Brian dials up the Auto-Tune past 11 to “DANGER: T-PAIN” levels at times here, including in the jarring opening track “Emotional,” which foreshadows both the bold innovations and old comforts that await. This is their weirdest release, and though it’s not their absolute strongest, it proves they can keep things fresh and freaky. But even in their more eclectic incarnation today, these Jersey boys are still making some of the best Midwest emo music.
Reader, I am not even looking up the years for all these releases, even the piddly little EPs, because “TFB facts” takes up room in my brain over things like “mom’s birth year.” Is that sad? I hope it is sad, and I hope you like sad, because sad is what you’re getting with this deliciously dreary Grandma EP, which offers hazy reimaginings of among their best pre-label songs. “Ann” is notable for its distinct stylistic departure, with its washed-out, almost shoegaze atmosphere that seemed to signal an exciting new direction for the band, except that they never bothered to try it again.
During those desperate early COVID days, Front Bottoms fans were starving for new music. A fuckin’ Christian rock album would have sufficed (though one can easily imagine Brian talk-singing some shit like “I’m a communion wafer, that you dropped on the floor last summer…turns out we both need JEeeeSus”). Thankfully, the boys made an exceptional, godless record that somehow pleased everybody (except people with actual good taste in music). “In Sickness” showcased the band’s heightened sophistication both sonically and lyrically, including profundities such as “Yeah I know that I look like a jerk, like a jerk” repeated literally 16 times in one song. Ultimately, TFB proved they could successfully bring their sound into a more mature phase, at least to the extent possible for a group who based their name on a British euphemism for “vagina.”
Depending on who you ask, “Back on Top” either falls under “classic” Front Bottoms territory, or it’s the point where they sold out by graduating past “New Jersey basement band” status. But c’mon, Brian was about 26 when making this record, so he was probably losing his parents’ health insurance while being in a motorcycle gang, eschewing the concept of jobs, and having a self-destructive meltdown (that is, if we take his lyrics here at face value, which we should). So, you can’t get mad at Brian (aka Steven) for selling out, especially since the result was this wonderfully boisterous album that marked a more polished and expansive pivot for the band. Distinguished by an irresistible buoyancy, plus many of their catchiest hooks and most memorable TFB-isms, “Back on Top” is something you can enjoy while dancing, sobbing, fucking, and/or cruising down the Garden State Parkway. We’d call it a classic.
And now we have an undisputed classic, because this is when only 0.001% of people had still ever heard of the Front Bottoms, versus the intolerable 0.0013% after they signed to Fueled by Ramen. It’s also universally beloved because every song on this sprightly EP, the first in the Grandma Series, is just so damn good (you could even say “so cool” or “SO punk.”). Maybe it’s just the obsessive fanbase, but it’s amazing how TFB’s EPs are just as popular as their main offerings, often even more so. “Rose” is a folk punk masterwork that has stood the test of time — unlike grandmas, who time will always beat in the end.
Look, roughly half the fanbase thinks this should be first, while the other half would put self-titled (or the “Noodle Monster” YouTube video). Ranking this at number two was indeed a tough choice, but make no mistake — this album fucks. Brian and Mat channel their folk punk and emo roots into a louder, more anthemic mode, revealing their ambition to be a Band That Matters. With high-flying tracks like the superlatively popular “Twin Sized Mattress,” you can tell they’re swinging for the fences on this one (albeit in a kind of Little League fashion, given the niche domain of music we’re dealing with here). “Talon” perhaps best exemplifies the contradictions and contrasting qualities that drive TFB’s magnetism: upbeat misery, abject goofiness mixed with gut-wrenching sincerity, and a broad narrative scope that appeals to youths and adults alike. It’s OK to be a fan of theirs over 30…right?
TFB’s true strength lies in their intimacy. Their music feels like late-night conversations with friends, especially when they’re about the crossroads we face in love, work, school, or deciding whether to take another edible. This special quality is conveyed most intensely in the band’s self-titled studio debut. They had yet to transcend their Jersey confines, but that hunger and rawness underpins the album’s potency. And like a good edible, its deceitfully simple surface masks its potential to completely fuck you up. Uncomplicated acoustic arrangements and poorly played trumpets might not sound great on paper, and it definitely doesn’t sound good in reality…for most. But for certain sad souls who can hear the record’s genius hidden in dog-whistle frequencies, this hallowed soundtrack of woundedness penetrates the deepest recesses of our silly little hearts.
Contrary to how he’s represented in the media, Mayhem is actually a caring husband who loves his wife deeply and would be pretty bummed to see her in a coma. Mayhem would spend as much time as he could reading to his wife, going through old photos, and talking about the good times they shared together. This rough ‘n’ tumble mascot wouldn’t pull the plug on his comatose wife at all, letting her reach a natural conclusion instead.
You know that guy on your block who just goes back inside his house after witnessing a hit and run? That pretty much sums up the original Allstate guy. This smooth-talking staple of insurance advertising has a simple mantra: mind your damn business. That’s why when his wife falls comatose, he’ll simply let it be and keep doing his thing, like the cool cat he is.
Everyone’s favorite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed neighborhood girl has actually been thinking about taking a human life for a while – but given her stature in the media, she obviously has to play it cool. After a well-crafted PR campaign where she somberly talks about the benefits of Progressive life insurance, Flo will have an ’oopsie-daisies’ and pull that plug so hard it snaps.
Everyone remembers Erin Esurance, right? The Esurance special agent mascot from the early 2000s who was taken off air because teenagers on 4chan kept making really weird art of her? Well, she settled down following her departure from the public eye, but found herself missing the adrenaline rush of covert insurance operations. She’ll find it very hard to resist pulling that plug and making a daring escape in the middle of the night.
If you know anything about ducks it’s that they’re some of nature’s most loyal creatures. But in the insurance game, tough business decisions have to be made. Within two weeks, the Aflac Duck is pulling the plug and cashing that life insurance check.
Despite his put-together demeanor, Professor Burke has actually been cheating on his wife with a rotating cast of sex workers since they’ve been married. He’ll probably see this situation as the perfect opportunity to avoid a messy divorce and move to Thailand for a fresh start.
Snoopy has proven time and time again that he really doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself (and maybe that stupid bird-for-brains he hangs around). He’d pull the plug as soon as it becomes a minor inconvenience that disrupts his napping schedule.
Since that Gecko entered the picture, the Caveman has spent his free time browsing “soy-based medicine” recipes and talking about George Soros a lot online. He’d insist that life support actually weakens the body’s immune system and pull the plug while blaming the doctor’s “toxic chakras and shit”.
Lying behind Jake’s signature khakis is an insatiable thirst to take part in human suffering. Ever since Cool Jake got to go to the Kids’ Choice Awards, this one has struggled with intrusive thoughts of sadism. That’s why he plans to edge himself by slowly pulling the plug in and out of the wall until completion.
This suave newcomer to the insurance scene believes in beauty through chaos. He wants to watch the world burn and always has some kerosene tucked away in his emu pouch. He’ll pull the plug without hesitation, but could be delayed because he doesn’t have hands.
Doug has no spine and blindly follows where LiMu Emu leads. LiMu Emu could walk this guy around hot pavement on a leash and he’d kiss his clawed feet. As the old saying goes, “If LiMu Emu pulls the plug, the next to follow is Mister Doug”.
The Gecko doesn’t have bad intentions. However, this is a creature who loves his naughty little games. After the first few days, Gecko might think he can get a few laughs by pretending to pull the plug. Unfortunately, the plug will likely get stuck to his webbed fingers and slip out of the outlet in a freak accident of sorts. He won’t be very pleased with this outcome, but he also won’t have a grieving period of more than a few weeks before he’s back to his usual yapping about bundling home and auto.
When someone blows up as quickly as the new Jake From State Farm, they begin to lose patience in other areas of life. After just over an hour of sitting on his phone in the ICU, Jake will want to get on with his life so he can start dating a WNBA star or something.
While Flo’s newest sidekick isn’t as death-obsessed as she is, that doesn’t mean the plug isn’t coming out. Jamie’s a young guy who isn’t done living out the wild years of his youth, and this party animal would much rather be doing poppers behind T.J. Maxx than sitting in a boring hospital. He’ll make sure this whole ordeal is over before the molly kicks in.
The General doesn’t quite view the value of life the same since that summer in Cambodia. Pulling the plug on his wife of 50 years would come just as naturally as chewing gum for this seasoned mascot.
He’s a foreigner, so he’s disqualified. If he could run he would crush it, but he can’t.
The Swedish Chef is not an immigrant, he’s just incoherently drunk all the time. He’s no more intelligible than Biden but at least when he spews gibberish he does it with the sense of confidence and professionalism his years of functional alcohol abuse afford him.
Almost a lateral move, the dude is old. He still has command of his faculties and he isn’t a Nazi, which makes him a better fit than both men currently competing for the job, but only by a little. In a year or two he’ll start sundowning like the rest of them.
Or like, any chicken really. People really hate Biden and Trump, honestly, we like her odds.
Floyd zones out as much as Biden but at least when he comes to you get cool drug stories and not the same 4 talking points regurgitated from the napkin he’s been staring at all day.
He’s amicable, high-energy, and racially ambiguous. Trump’s going to hit him hard on the “failure” of “Muppets Tonight” but with a respectable 7.7 on IMDB, he should be able to work through it.
We all know Sam the Eagle is a rank-and-file conservative. You could argue that makes him the candidate most likely to win as he would draw both Democrats and Republicans on the fence about Trump, but at what cost? It would sort of be like voting for Vader over Palpatine.
Sure, he’s a child, but he’s been a child since the ’70s so legally we’re pretty sure he can run. Conservatives like to say they do what they do to protect the children of this country, let’s see them put their money where their mouth is and cross party lines to vote for this adorable frog kid.
Gonzo is a complicated guy for sure, and if elected his term will likely be cut short by scandal. You can’t keep skeletons like his in the closet forever, this guy’s done things that make the Stormy Daniel’s hush money cover-up look like taking a dollar out of Grandma’s purse. Still, if we can keep the lid on his deeply disturbing personal life for a few short months we’re in the clear.
Sure they’ve got the age problem, but these guys are still sharp. Trump relies heavily on insulting his opponents, let’s see him try to pull that shit with the pros.
Okay, so he’s a confirmed cannibal, but he’s upfront about it and has never eaten a baby, which, according to our Uncle Mark (who hasn’t quite been the same since his car accident), makes Gene a more viable candidate than Joe Biden or Hilary Clinton combined.
As a lifestyle influencer, Bobo already has a rabid, internet-literate fanbase ready to make “Bobo 2024” happen. As a bear, he projects some much-needed strength on the world stage.
The sax thing worked for Clinton in ’92 and it can work for Zoot in 2024. We just need Arsenio Hall to have a talk show again and a good fixer to cover up his predatory sex life. Move over Kid Rock, there’s a new bucket hat-wearing musician riddled with STDs here to shake up Washington!
Yes, it’s a sad state of affairs, but we are at the point in this country where many Americans are saying “Let’s just put the guy named Crazy with all the dynamite in the White House and just see what happens.”
