Six Injured at Tesla Diner After Tuna Melt Sandwich Explodes

Posted on by Ben Friedman

LOS ANGELES — Emergency crews were dispatched to the newly opened Tesla Diner after six patrons were left with life-threatening injuries as a result of one of the restaurant’s tuna melt sandwiches blowing up, witnesses have confirmed.

“It was actually a pretty smooth meal until I got to the third bite. That’s when the damn thing started smoking and then exploded searing tuna and cheese all over the place! Considering the bread can only be put out with a chemical extinguisher, I was able to walk away with only half my face burnt off. I’m a little disappointed considering it was a two month wait to get a table,” said victim Troy Williams. “Still, I have to trust Elon knows best and he’ll figure out why the tuna was sourced from an exploding fish hatchery. I’m hoping he sees my post on X and can cover my hospital stay, or at least reimburse my dinner.”

Tesla Diner’s general manager was adamant the accident was purely user error.

“While I sympathize with Mr. Williams and the family next to him who are in the ICU, upon our own internal investigation it was clear that the sandwich was being improperly consumed. He had activated ‘hands free mode’ by setting the tuna melt back onto the plate, on top of it being in direct sunlight causing it to overheat,” said Devin McCalister. “I have already compensated everyone within the blast radius with a free small coffee, and we have updated our T&S to remind patrons that saliva will compromise the structural integrity of the food.”

The L.A. health inspector noted that it was only a matter of time before tragedy struck.

“I have been here nine times to address multiple complaints, and every time I just get more excuses. Not only is their tuna inflammable, the grilled cheese gets stuck in people’s throats, the buns on the chicken sandwich don’t align, and the pecan pie has broken teeth in half in addition to being dry,” said Veronica Sutton. “Every time I try to cite this place I get doxxed and death threats from the staff. Mark my words, it’s only a matter of time before someone loses their tongue getting it stuck in a smash burger.”

As of press time, Tesla has pushed out an update to the sandwich’s safety features, but only if the diners have Neuralink installed.

Opinion: Miss Rachel’s Outspokenness on Genocide Makes Bluey’s Silence All the More Deafening

Posted on by Reuben Blanchard

I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m a perfect person. We’ve all had times when we’ve failed to meet the moment. But if Miss Rachel can speak out about the genocide in Gaza, why would we tolerate anything less from the fictional, animated Blue Heeler puppy, Bluey.

Before anyone rushes to her defense, I know that Bluey is only seven years old. But guess what? In human years, that’s thirty-five. THIRTY-FIVE! Are you really gonna sit there and tell me that a thirty-five-year-old shouldn’t have to address the horrors going on in the world?

Miss Rachel is the picture of bravery. She continues to not back down and speak up for what is right and just. Meanwhile, all Bluey can say is “oh biscuits” and “for real life!” Well, she can bark “for real life” all she wants, but IN REAL LIFE, she is doing nothing to help those in need. And she should be fucking ashamed. Bad dog. BAD DOG!

Obviously, when it comes to the crisis in Gaza, Bluey is not the only one to blame. Really blame goes to the entire Heeler clan. Bandit, you’re a good dad, but there is blood on your hands. Bingo, bad girl. Chili, we honestly expected better. Shame on you all.

Sure, I know some of you may say, “Why are focusing so much on a Bluey? Is it because the horrors of watching genocide on a phone every day have burned away the nerve endings to your understanding of what the human experience is, thereby unconsciously affirming the idea that to be human is to experience constant pain? Are you satirizing opinion pieces that throw blame anywhere but the cause of the problem, because they know in the end opinions change nothing, and the only thing that will destroy this apocalyptic machine of death is violent uprising but that concept is too terrifying because we all just wanna eat pizza and watch The Traitors, so the best most of us can do is to feign outrage on our social media over the biggest humanitarian crisis of our lifetime? Are you writing this because in the end, comedy feels like the safest avenue to express the helplessness you feel as the world is entirely engulfed by fascism?” Wait, shit, yeah, that is why I’m writing this. Sorry, Bluey’s fine and Ms. Rachel rules.

Christian Rock Band Waiting Until Marriage to Write Songs About Sex

Posted on by Bobby Korec

ENUMCLAW, Wash. — Local Christian rock band Trust Fall revealed that they are waiting until marriage to write any songs related to sexual intercourse, confirmed sources.

“Due to my religious beliefs, I abstain from composing songs about plowing until I say ‘I do’ or I get writer’s block and can’t think of any other lyrical topics,” said singer Lee Grommet. “Sure, I get laid all the time and have for years, but our songs will remain lyrically celibate until I find that special someone to blow my entire savings on a wedding with. After all, God once said, ‘Thou shalt not sing about boning until matrimony,’ and as a follower of Christ and someone who is driven by religious guilt, I will fully obey the gospel. Luckily there’s nothing in the Bible about pre-marital sex, so I think I’m good on that front. I don’t know for sure though. I’ve never read that thing.”

Fans of the band supported their decision to remain lyrically untainted.

“Finally a Christian rock band I can get behind,” said churchgoer Nancy Buxton. “It’s like every song on the radio is about sexual intercourse. ‘Tears in Heaven,’ ‘The Boys Are Back in Town,’ ‘Amish Paradise.’ Nothing but tracks about smashing. I wish more music would be sex-free, you know like Cardi B’s ‘WAP’ or LL Cool J’s ‘Doin’ It.’ Coitus is gross enough. I don’t need to hear about it through the magic of song too.”

Experts predicted that the band would run out of content to write about fairly quickly.

“Christian rock bands don’t exactly have an abundance of subject matter to pull from when coming up with material,” said music historian Grace Kurtz. “They do have God at their disposal, but that’s pretty much it. A good 65% of songs are about making love in some form or another. Another 15% is about drugs or partying. Then 10% is about politics and another 8% is about God. The remaining 2% just asks the question, ‘Who let the dogs out?’ A question we may never have an answer to.”

At press time, the band finally decided to write a song about sex but only using euphemisms and are set to release their new single “Bumpin’ Uglies” next month.

Libertarian Teen Enjoys Freedom From Friendships

Posted on by Ryan Darrah

ORLAND PARK, Ill. — Local 17-year-old Nick Stultus espoused his libertarian philosophies in every social interaction, even if doing so prevented him from being invited to parties, having a girlfriend or finding a single peer who enjoys his company, according to sources who listened.

“My advanced reasoning skills allow me to recognize how the demands that enslave lesser beings who are shackled by friendships would limit my personal sovereignty,” Stutlus said. “So many people wrongly assume I’d like to waste my weekends driving around, cracking jokes with buddies. But that’s because they’ve been brainwashed into believing coercive human connections and building community are more meaningful than dedicating your Friday and Saturday nights to scouring YouTube for old interviews of Milton Friedman and Ayn Rand.”

Classmate Emmett Merrick questioned Stultus’s self-assessment.

“People don’t avoid Nick because he’s a libertarian; they avoid him because he’s a relentlessly self-righteous asshole,” Merrick claimed. “Since middle school he’s berated me because my parents are public school teachers, making them, in his words, ‘Collectivist Commies.’ He also gets combative with some of the teachers at our high school about how ‘taxation is theft.’ He says their salaries make them accomplices in ‘fiscal crimes against humanity.’ And he never talks about decriminalizing drugs or women having freedom over their own bodies; if he was that kind of libertarian, he might earn some respect and have a friend or two. I think Nick just says he’s a libertarian to give an intellectual veneer to his racist, sexist and classist ignorance. He’s basically a libertarian poseur. He acts like he’s all about personal responsibility, but I bet his mom still makes his lunches.”

Roark Vander Kurt, a men’s rights attorney and author of “Saving the Lone Wolves: Boys In Crisis In Woke America,” sees Stultus as an extreme example of a troubling trend.

“I haven’t met Nick personally but his plight touches me deeply because he epitomizes how our culture victimizes young men whose idealism doesn’t fit the cookie-cutter parameters sanctioned by the American thought-police,“ Vander Kurt said. “Here’s a young man who is cruelly shunned when he should be respected, even celebrated, for his fierce advocacy of free markets, personal liberty and property rights. At least he doesn’t have all those friends getting in the way of him living his life.”

At press time, Vander Kurt blocked Stutlus on X after a DM exchange got testy when the lawyer rejected the young libertarian’s request to chaperone him to a Turning Point USA conference.

The Next Oasis? My Pickleball Partner Just Beat the Shit Out of Me With His Racquet

Posted on by Sarah Cortina

Guys, I need to be honest. I’ve been in a creative slump, and nothing seems to be working. I’ve been studying the work of the greats, trying to emulate their careers. Trying to become one of them. I thought I was behaving like a true artist, but I just ended up being quote unquote “an alcoholic” and “a narcissist who makes shitty art.” Nothing’s been working. Until now. Until this moment of beautiful kismet, when my pickleball partner struck me with his racquet.

As he pummeled every inch of my body, I yelled back at him, “Come on, man, don’t look back in anger! Stop crying your heart out!” And then I realized that I missed what we had together all along. Not just an athletic partnership, but the potential for an artistic one. Him absolutely beating me with the pickleball racquet reminds me of a certain British band that starts with an O. One Direction. Then I remembered Oasis. I love Liam Gallagher! Like he was so good in “Shameless.”

I should have seen the similarities sooner. We never got along super well, but we kept rising to the top of the El Segundo, CA 35-44 y/o Amateur Pickleball tournament ranks. After he beat the shit out of me, we absolutely clobbered the team we faced next. Not as bad as he clobbered me, though. I lowkey need stitches. Hey, if he keeps the racquet, maybe it’ll fetch a pretty penny at auction one day.

I couldn’t let him have the final win, though. In return, I threw my ironically purchased tambourine at him, except he caught it and honestly, I liked the noise it made, so I hit record on GarageBand and just kept throwing it at him until he threatened to beat me again, but more importantly, quit the pickleball league.

At the end of the day, we’re kind of brothers in a way. Like eskimo brothers. And by that I mean we fucked the same girl and he found out. That girl being his wife. Which might have been why he beat the shit out of me. Am I a terrible friend and pickleball partner? Definitely maybe!

Pitchfork Writer Visiting Home Describes Mom’s Dinner as “A Derivative Slog Through White Suburban Mediocrity”

Posted on by Tim Graham

COUNCIL BLUFFS, Iowa — Music critic Sophie McKennitt brutally lambasted her mother’s cooking during a recent visit home, according to stunned cousins.

“As a child who knew no better, I found my mother’s cooking to be adequate,” said McKennitt while downing kimchi in an effort to cleanse her palate. “It was utilitarian and bland, but served its purpose. However, after I moved out and got to experience all that global food culture had to offer, I was able to see my mom’s cooking for the tedious swill it is. Last night she made tuna noodle casserole, which was utterly pedestrian and uninspired. This woman thinks paprika is too adventurous. Her cooking fails to provide even the barest minimum in terms of flavor while contributing nothing to the greater culinary conversation. Do better, mom.”

Mrs. McKennitt was blindsided by her daughter’s harsh critique, but took it in stride.

“I don’t know what Sophie is talking about,” she said while scooping American chop suey into stained Tupperware. “She used to love my cooking—but I guess she’s broadened her horizons since moving to the big city and getting a job at that fancy magazine. I admit that her father and I like to keep things simple. We’ve never even had sushi—that’s raw fish! I do have one question for Sophie, though: If my cooking is so offensive, why’d you ask for seconds? I’ll allow her to publicly proclaim that she’s above casserole, pork chops and meatloaf, but I know the truth. A clean plate doesn’t lie.”

Film critic Francis Arnold warns that people in this trade need to be careful not to allow their work to permeate their home life.

“In our profession, there’s a strong temptation to criticize anything and everything we experience,” said Arnold. “But I quickly learned that if I wanted to maintain relationships with friends and family, I better keep my mouth shut. My advice? If someone invites you to their concert or film screening or even cooks you dinner, your best bet is to react with vague praise, offer some platitudes and quickly get out of there. Later, you can shit all over them in a private text group with your colleagues.”

At press time, McKennitt had turned her critical eye upon her boyfriend’s new mustache, which she deemed a “pitiable, misguided stab at aspirational masculinity.”

Conservative Christian Outraged by Woke Parts of the Bible Being Highlighted in Red

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

LITTLE ROCK, Ark. — Local man Jerry Whipple, a self-described red-blooded, god-fearing follower of Christ, was outraged when he noticed all of the parts of the Bible he deemed to be “woke” were highlighted in red, close family members confirmed.

“These liberal New York book publishers are trying to ram their agenda down our throats. I can’t even open my very own Bible without being told to love my neighbor, and all this preachy horse crap about forgiveness. No thank you, my neighbor is a pile of dog mess who thinks Obama is an actual American and it makes me sick,” said Whipple while hand-carving a miniature crucifix. “Then there is all this slop about how I should care about the poor. Since when? I worked hard to get where I am. My dad owned multiple apartment buildings and it was my responsibility to calculate the market rate for rent every year. Do you know how hard that is when you have these sinning single mothers whining that they won’t be able to afford another rent increase? I prefer the parts of the Bible that talk about pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and saluting the flag.”

Whipple’s pastor, Reverend Scott Disshum, says he won’t bother explaining to the members of his flock that the words in red are meant to represent what Jesus said.

“Look, if I explained to everyone who came into my church that Jesus preached love, acceptance, and wanted to limit human suffering, then I wouldn’t make any money. I tend to focus on the parts of the Bible that talk about a vengeful God who wants to destroy anyone who doesn’t follow his exact orders,” said Reverend Disshum. “Fear is what pays the bills at the end of the day. If I want to keep the lights on at the church, and my Rolls-Royce running on premium gas then I need to preach the Old Testament version of fire and brimstone.”

Sociologist Amy Lane believes most Evangelical Christians actively avoid talking about Jesus.

“Jesus has really taken a backseat in modern Christianity. The most devout followers of Jesus think he’s just a white guy who came from a ‘good’ part of Italy. But we are talking about a Middle Eastern man who preached ‘woke’ values so much that it got him killed,” said Lane. “Fox News would label Jesus a ‘radical lunatic’ if he were preaching his gospel today. I’m sure he’s rolling around in his grave right now seeing how his words were bastardized, but let’s be real, he probably never actually existed anyway and all the shit he said was made up to be a form of social control.”

At press time, Whipple proudly displayed a new version of his Trump Bible with all the teachings of Trump highlighted in a tacky gold color.

We Sat Down With Anti-Cop Crust Punk John Rambo

Posted on by Steve Packosky

Our thoughts on police officers are certainly no secret, and we always jump at the opportunity to discuss the subject with like-minded individuals. As such, while we were driving along in rural Washington state one day and came across legendary anti-cop crust punk John Rambo, we could not shy away from the chance to pick his brain. Unfortunately, and this is absolutely something we should have anticipated, this guy is really difficult to have a conversation with. Below is what little interview we were able to salvage, but be forewarned that it did not go well.

The Hard Times: Wow, it’s truly an honor to meet you, Mr. Rambo. We’re huge fans!

John Rambo: Hi.

HT: As a crust punk with your history, we presume you have the same feelings about overpolicing as we do, and —

JR: As a what?

HT: Uh, you know, you’re kind of a transient who has problems with authority, which we admire.

JR: Why are you pushing me?

HT: Oh, we’re absolutely not trying to. It’s just that your jacket has a patch on it, and you clearly haven’t showered in a while.

JR: I didn’t know I had to shower for this interview.

HT: We’re not suggesting that. We know what happened last time someone tried to force you to shower and shave, and —

JR: NOBODY FORCES ME TO DO ANYTHING!

It was at that point that Rambo pulled a gigantic serrated knife out of his pocket and stabbed our intern, Caleb, in the leg. He then ran outside our offices, stole a dirtbike off some random guy Grand Theft Auto-style, and rode it off into the woods. The thing is, we’re on a really strict timeline with this piece, and our editor was extremely insistent that we make it happen, so we had no choice but to follow him. Hopefully, we can track him down and get his thoughts on law enforcement, but it’s looking grim.

There are few of us left. Miranda got taken out with an improvised bear trap made of soda machine springs and a broken Descendants record. Dave thought covering himself in mud would help because he was thinking of the wrong movie — Rambo made short work of him. As for me, I’m currently typing from the bottom of one of those concealed pits full of bamboo spikes. They seem to have missed most of my vitals, but I see know way out and I’m getting hungry. In retrospect, I should have asked more questions before stepping on what seemed to be an ordinary pile of leaves in the middle of the office.

GWAR Roadie Scrambling to Find 236 Gallons of Alien Cum at 8:00 p.m. in Macon, GA

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

MACON, Ga. — Panic-stricken and barely coherent GWAR roadie Miles Giodarno was spotted dashing through the streets of Macon, desperately trying to secure a whopping 236 gallons of alien cum just hours before the band’s show, confirmed sources.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck,” exclaimed Giodarno through the mostly empty streets of the sleepy, southern town. “The band goes on in two hours, and they just now realized that they must have hit a bump somewhere in North Carolina, leaking ET jizz all over I-95. Now I’m stuck hitting up every big box store in the area, because apparently you can’t play live music without showering your audience in alien cum. And yes, I know it’s not really extraterrestrial semen. But that doesn’t help me to find 236 gallons of toaster strudel glaze and green food dye this late on a Sunday.”

Convenience store clerk Tamara Jenkins recalled her “vivid” encounter with the wild-eyed Giodarno that evening.

“Dude came in here like a bat out of hell. He was practically shaking. I thought he was either on something or running from the cops. Then he screams at me, ‘I need all the cum you got. No time for questions,’” said Jenkins. “Before I could pull out the mini bat I stashed behind the counter he explained how he works for GWAR. He bought up all the face lotion we had, saying maybe if he watered it down with some of the green Gatorade it would have just the right ‘intergalactic viscosity.’”

GWAR’s lead singer and metal icon, Blothar the Berserker, took a moment to clarify the whole situation.

“Look, this was just a prank,” Blothar explained. “Miles was the new guy on the team, and well, you don’t just get thrown into this job without learning the hard way. So we sent him off to fetch the alien cum, knowing full well he’d have no fucking idea where to get it. It’s tradition. We hazed him. Hell, we don’t even use alien cum in our show. Alien blood, sure. Animal cum, without a doubt. But alien cum? Nah, we’re better than that.”

At press time, Giodarno’s hazing continued after being forced to single-handedly mop the entire stage wearing only a leather g-string.

Woodland Creature Mayoral Race Once Again Swept by Dapper Bullfrog in Monocle and Top Hat

Posted on by Joe Rumrill

WILLOW WIND HOLLOW — The animal population of a wooded glen was less than surprised when their mayoral election results yielded a landslide win for a jovial bullfrog in formal wear, sources confirmed while bristling at the triggering term “landslide.”

“Ah, twas a jolly good showing all around! My thanks to the voters of this fine glen — from the birds in the trees, to the bugs and the bees! Pip pip!” chimed Mayor Bullfrog, with a distinguished puff of his signature dewlap. “I daresay my promise of a ‘stolen vegetables from Farmer MacCready’s garden for all’ initiative was risky, but I didn’t kiss all those tadpoles at my rallies to be called a liar. ‘Slimy,’ sure, but that’s a descriptor I wear with pride, what what! Now to beef up my security team in case there are any more assassination attempts by out-of-town hawks!”

Mayor Bullfrog’s long-suffering opponent, Mr. Weasel, was less than sporting about his now annual defeat.

“Drat it all. Drat it to heck and back again, I say. Every year I hope we’ve progressed as a society enough to overcome our clear and rampant anti-predator bias, and every year I’m squashed back to reality, crushed and labelled a ‘loser.’ I’ll bet if I were born a chipmunk or even a sentient oak tree one might go to for cryptic advice, I’d be getting fitted for a ‘MAYOR’ sash right now!” opined Weasel, from his modest one-bedroom burrow. “And, of course, the scandal a few years back didn’t help. How was I to know those rotten eggs were someone’s kids and not part of the continental breakfast I assumed the hotel offered?”

Local man Reggie Potter, great-grandson of children’s author Beatrix Potter, had much to say on the election outcome.

“Man, I wish my great-grandmother was alive to see this. Or that anyone believed that this was happening in my backyard without calling for a psychiatric evaluation,” said Potter, frantically. “This election happens every year in my very backyard, and let me tell you, the minute people find out you’re the relative of Beatrix Potter and you’re trying to tell them there are well-dressed critters campaigning hutch-to-hutch, your credibility goes right down the drain. At least she was able to make some money off these little suckers. God, I wish I could draw.”

At press time, a recount was ordered after accusations of Mayor Bullfrog paying off the duck community for votes in exchange for a sack of wet bread.