Nation’s Beefcakes Demand All ‘Appetite for Destruction’ Shirts Be Sold With Sleeves Pre-Cut

Posted on by Steve Packosky

LOS ANGELES — The nation’s buff hunks have demanded all “Appetite for Destruction” shirts be sold with the sleeves already removed going forward, sources report.

“This is a long time coming,” beefcake spokesperson Blaine Carter said. “For too long us sculpted Adonises have had to manually remove the sleeves from our ‘Appetite for Destruction’ shirts before heading to the gym to audibly grunt while doing weighted dips and dumbbell presses. This is not an unreasonable demand, because it is absolutely absurd to expect us to take the time to modify our attire before toning our bulging pecs and mouth-watering biceps. If we all had our way on this, we would also have insisted on the sides of the shirts being cut as well so chicks can catch a glimpse of our sexy cumgutters and crucifix rib tattoos.”

Non-beefcake Guns N’ Roses fan Dietrich Erwin was disgusted by the demand.

“I really hope the t-shirt companies don’t acquiesce to this,” Erwin sighed. “I see these muscleheads walking around with sleeveless ‘Appetite for Destruction’ shirts all the time, and it pisses me off. Do these guys even listen to Guns N’ Roses? Could they name any songs other than ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ or ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’? I’d be willing to bet that they can’t, so it’s bullshit for them to try to dictate how the band’s merch is sold. I’ve been a Guns N’ Roses fan since the late ‘80s, and I’ve proudly never been to the gym in my life. Maybe the shirt companies should pay attention to my wants, like not putting scratchy tags on the insides.”

Gildan representative Tricia Grenel spoke out about the request.

“I’m getting so sick of these flawless slabs of Grade A prime chuck thinking they can dictate the styles of our shirts,” Grenel complained. “We here at Gildan have a tough enough time struggling to understand even the most basic attributes of the human body, so we can’t be occupied with kowtowing to every whim of these studs. It is true that 95% of our ‘Appetite for Destruction’ shirts are sold to gym rats who immediately cut off the sleeves, but if we succumb to this, what’s next? Pre-oil stained Motörhead shirts? Dream Theater shirts sold with a coating of Cheetoh dust? Not gonna happen.”

At press time, the beefcakes were also demanding the shirts be sold with 1,000 grams of creatine.

Hamburger Helper Glove Admits to Visiting Epstein’s Kitchen Island

Posted on by Tim Graham

BATTLE CREEK, Mich. — Lefty, the Hamburger Helper glove, was among the many food-product mascots whose names appear in the Epstein files, newly leaked documents confirm.

“It was the early 2000s. Things were different back then—not that it’s any excuse,” said the repentant Lefty. “I used to go there whenever I was in the city, do some blow, get a massage. I learned quickly not to ask questions about the girls’ age or where they came from. I figured what happened on the island would stay on the island, but it turns out there were cameras all over the kitchen. Epstein was gathering incriminating tape on all of us. I saw some really dark shit there, but I knew that if my involvement became known, General Mills would drop my ass, so I kept my trap shut about the whole thing.”

Poppin’ Fresh, better known as The Pillsbury Doughboy, says he’s willing to tell all in exchange for legal immunity.

“All the mascots used to hang out at Epstein’s: The Jolly Green Giant, Snap, Crackle and Pop, the Keebler Elves. Just about anyone you ever saw on a package at the grocery store would be there partying and having relations with girls of questionable age,” said the haggard-looking doughboy. “I’ve got dirt on every one of those scumbags, and I’ll spill it if I can get some kind of sweetheart deal. I’ll tell everything, like when Frankenberry and Tony the Tiger helped Chef Boyardee get rid of a body after he got a little too enthusiastic with one of the ladies.”

Some of the other implicated mascots have denied wrongdoing altogether.

“I assure you that my client, Mr. Peanut, had no knowledge of what went on in Mr. Epstein’s kitchen,” said lawyer Howard Dennison. “That could be any anthropomorphic peanut with a monocle, top hat and cane in those photos. My firm is preparing defamation suits against the media outlets who published disgusting allegations regarding Mr. Peanut, who is an upstanding brand ambassador. And to the woman who claims her half-peanut/half-human child is the result of an encounter with Mr. Peanut when she was underage—we’ll see you in court.”

At press time, Poppin’ Fresh’s badly burned body had been found in his own oven just days ahead of his scheduled Congressional testimony, where authorities ruled it a suicide.

We Sat Down With Jonah Hill and Told Him to Just Knock It off Already

Posted on by Charles Bill

I sat in the restaurant waiting for Jonah to show up. I was nervous. Jonah Hill is a big actor, an Oscar winner and a director. Today I have only one purpose. To sit down with Mr Hill and ask him kindly to just knock it off already. We’ve all had just about enough of this ‘Jonah Hill’ thing he’s been doing these past few years.

I had a lot of trouble finding him. Unfortunately, I chose a restaurant that is patronised exclusively by either very fat men or very thin men who all have beards. Any of these people could’ve been Jonah Hill, and I would never know it. I realise that he’s been waiting on me for the last fifteen minutes as a ‘performance piece’. I acknowledge this and ask him to sit with me, which he does. I’d describe what he looked like, but that would probably be out of date by the time this goes to print.

“I decided to make therapy my entire thing,” Hill says as he orders a gigantic salad. “Therapy has led me to be more introspective, thinking about myself. Eventually, I thought my introspection was too good to keep for just myself, so I chose to make it everyone else’s problem too. Therapy can be a really tremendous process, but it’s even more effective if you expose the public to your therapy against their will.”

I asked Mr Hill if he would mind toning it down a bit, or maybe just knocking it off altogether, and he went into a seemingly prepared speech about how I was limiting him with my boundaries, and how unhealthy that is for our relationship. I told him we weren’t in a relationship, but he had already started talking about surfing, so I decided to let it go.

After a couple of hours of me trying to discourage Jonah from keeping his whole ‘thing’ going, he decided he was going to make a movie about me and my vibe. Apparently, I’ll be played by Ike Barinholtz, and it’s a drama.

Mr Hill shook my hand, thanked me for my time, and took a brief trip to the bathroom. When he emerged, he was 45 pounds heavier and had an impressive set of mutton chops. He nodded goodbye to me and left. All in all, I had a wonderful time with Jonah Hill, a kind, warm person, who just needs to cut it out already. 

Prescribed Antidepressants Thwarted by Mitski

Posted on by Alex Vlahov

LOS ANGELES — Local Eagle Rock resident Edna Rags has been questioning the efficacy of her prescribed antidepressants after diving into Mitski’s yearning and pained discography, confirmed sources.

“There was actually an intervention a few months ago,” said Rags, sitting in her car while listening to “I Bet on Losing Dogs” in between shifts at Home Depot. “My wife, my parents, they all encountered me and urged me to stop turning to the boundless sad void of Mitski. It affects me too deeply. I hate that I have to hide it now, skulk around in private. I have tickets for each night of her upcoming shows, so I’m going to triple the dose of antidepressants. That should do it. Honestly, going to these shows is the only thing getting me out of the house these days, but it’s seriously canceling out my SSRIs. I can’t afford the amount of medication I require anymore, but I am saving up for a sweet shirt. Maybe a Mitski tote. Maybe a cat. I’d like to be cuddled like a cat, you know?”

Dr. Leo Carruthers of Altadena Behavioral Clinic disclosed that Rags’s situation is not unique. 

“Sorry for breaking our confidentiality here, but I’m fed up with this Mitski. Nothing I prescribe is working,” shared Dr. Carruthers from his Alta Dena office. “Every new tour, every album release, it all starts anew. Edna isn’t the only one. It has been profoundly frustrating to see her effect on patients. I’ve even become a fan. I’m human after all. I was listening to her this morning, please excuse my puffy eyes — it’s just that I was crying in traffic. Hell, I have my own doctors too: being immersed in Mitski has made me particularly sensitive to the unkind grey solitude of this universe, not to mention my own weathering. Excuse me for a moment, I need to be alone.” 

Nadine Toblowsky, managing director of Fatch & Buhl Pharma, addressed the controversy. 

“There are new sources of gloom every year. We’ll be fine,” declared Toblowsky from the back office of her company’s DC lobbying firm. “Our data indicates that both middle America and Appalachia have finally discovered Mitski, which allows us to aggressively prescribe all varieties in our antidepressant family in those markets. Mitski listeners account for the majority of our coastal sales. The Sackler family has heavily funded research into bottling Mitski’s idiosyncratic tragi-pop into a pill capsule form for future sedation needs.”

In a related story, criminal investigators now use Mitski’s music as a psychological profiling test, as the only population unable to emotionally respond to her music are dangerous sociopaths.

Total Backfire: The Recently Unclassified UFO Files Link Donald Trump to Another Massive Pedophile Ring, but In Space

Posted on by Dan Rice

Yikes, looks like Donald Trump just can’t catch a break! In the wake of pedophile allegations, the economy tanking, pedophile allegations, the fumbling of the war in Iran he started, pedophile allegations, speculation about his mental and physical health, and pedophile accusations, the President figured the American people could use a distraction. That’s why he ordered the release of a huge trove of formerly classified files related to UFOs. Unfortunately for the President, they contained more than he bargained for. 

Old Donnie figured a big fresh batch of highly disorganized files would keep the conspiracy people busy for a few weeks and detract from the accusations of pedophilia and rape against him. Unfortunately, it seems he released them a little too flippantly. Hackers were quickly able to copy and paste the redacted portion of the files, revealing Donald Trump’s ties to a massive, intergalactic pedophile ring! 

The files in question highlight Trump’s relationship to Jeffzon Epsto, a financier from the Andromeda region currently under investigation by The Federation of Worlds over allegedly trafficking underage grays and reptilians into sex work for the galaxy’s elite. 

Talk about a bad look! 

According to the files, Trump flew on Epsto’s private cruiser “The Lolita Falcon” at least 36 times, bringing him to Little St. Reigis 7, a tropical luxury planet where Epsto supposedly ran his illegal sex cartel. A number of other prominent members of the galaxy were on the manifest, including Donzu Kern, Gleebgorb Plaxatan, and the former Prince Andrew. 

If being placed on the cruiser of a known intergalactic sex trafficker wasn’t bad enough, the files also detail some incredibly unsavory allegations regarding Trump’s conduct across the universe, including an incident where he allegedly threw a newborn reptilian baby into a nebula, and had his rectum permanently damaged by the lightsaber of a youngling he attempted to force himself on. 

This is not going to be good for midterms! 

Trump was quick to deny the allegations within the files, calling them an intergalactic leftist hoax. While he admits to a one-time friendship with Jeffzon Epsto, he claims they had a falling out years ago when Epsto abducted a 17-year-old masseuse from Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort without his go-ahead. Still, the damage is done. 

This is a breaking story, and we’ll have more as it develops. 

Man Referring to Everyone as ‘Cunt’ After Two Week Australian Vacation

Posted on by Ben Friedman

SAN DIEGO — A local man who recently returned from a two week vacation in Australia has brought back some of the country’s slang with him and is now referring to everyone endearingly as “cunt,” every friend, family member, and acquaintance have reported.

“Australia is crazy, did you know it’s winter there right now? Oh yeah, and everyone throws around the word ‘cunt’ like it’s nothing. Openly dropping one of the dirtiest swear words so casually was so liberating, I just had to bring it back stateside and normalize it like it ought to be,” said CJ Lewis. “I can tell by the horrified look on everyone’s faces, especially my mother’s, that a lot of people are uptight about using cunt as a pronoun. But lots of great ideas were dismissed at one point, like evolution and the internet. I think if I keep up my regimen of greeting everyone with it 20 times a day, it’ll catch on.”

Lewis’ friends were already exasperated with his new vocabulary.

“I could deal with his new Aussie mannerism like walking everywhere barefoot and only drinking shitty wine straight from a bag, but this whole thing with greeting everyone he comes in contact with as ‘cunt’ has gotta stop. Especially in public, because I’m pretty sure the waitress spit in our food last night,” said Robert Wilson. “Not gonna lie, CJ has a point about Australia being a lot less uptight than Americans, but maybe he should focus his energy on promoting other stuff from their culture like AFL and universal healthcare. He’s probably one ‘cunt’ away from getting knocked the fuck out.” 

Linguistic experts noted it can be hard to transition back to one’s normal vernacular after traveling to a foreign country.

“After visiting any country for a few weeks it’s natural to pick up some of the dialect and idioms spoken by its citizens, and a lot of it doesn’t translate well in the United States because let’s face it, Australian swear words and phrases are way funnier,” said Dr. Veronica Davis. “But you can only say ‘cunt’ or ‘fuck me dead’ so many times before you start to upset people, so my recommendation is to visit non-English speaking countries and import some taboo words nobody will understand.”

As of press time, Lewis was called into the HR manager’s office at his job to explain what he meant by saying “dry as a dead dingo’s donger” in the break room.

Fuck It: Here Are Five Other Con Men From Queens We Can Also Elect to the Presidency

Posted on by Tim Sheard

Jesus, how fucking stupid is this country for having elected the most obvious con man in America to the presidency not once, but twice? What, was his duplicitous nature not evident enough in his first term? Whatever. America is completely boned at this point, so we say let it ride. If our fellow citizens are going to insist on entrusting the most powerful position in the land to some dipshit con man from Queens, here are five more we can elect next.

  1. Jimmy “Two Fingers” Russo

Trust us, you don’t want to know the etymology of this Astoria native’s nickname. Two Fingers has enjoyed a nasty reputation among the local population since he got caught committing credit card fraud during his son’s christening, which, as far as we’re concerned, makes him about as qualified to be Commander in Chief as our current president. 

  1. Sal “Slicky” DiTomasso 

This Forest Hills dope pusher has gotten busted numerous times for identity theft, and he also likes to hang around outside elementary schools trying to get kids hooked on heroin. Is it scummy? Yeah, of course, but we suppose it’s still not as bad as bombing them, so we suppose we’d vote for Slicky over Trump.

  1. Angelo “Legs” Greco

If you’re from Kew Gardens Hills, you’ve probably come across Legs trying to hock counterfeit jewelry in between his many bouts of public masturbation on Kissena Boulevard. This behavior is certainly not something we would’ve considered presidential in the past, but look where we are. Legs ‘28. You heard it here first, folks.

  1. Billy “The Kid” Esposito

Cute nickname. This guy sells bootleg blu-rays that don’t work to unsuspecting passersby in Maspeth. Real cute. With that being said, we’ll take a useless copy of The Scorpion King over a Trump Bible any day. Get this guy in the Oval Office.

  1. Donnie “Small Hands” Trupinelli

This creep is always trying to make crypto deals with people in the Jamaica Estates. Something about him seems really, really familiar, though, and we find ourselves more unsettled by him than any of the aforementioned con men. Honestly, let’s not consider Small Hands. We’re honestly terrified at the thought of him being President.

Aging Punk Worried He’s Getting Too Old to Sell Out

Posted on by Ben Friedman

LOS ANGELES — Paul Wallace, a 43-year-old punk from Boyle Heights, recently came to the sobering conclusion that he might be getting too old to abandon his long held anti-capitalist beliefs and become a shameless sellout, his family has confirmed.

“I’ve never once regretted any of my life choices. But this morning I woke up with a clarity that was induced by chronic back pain and $6 in my savings account and thought maybe I shouldn’t have spent the last 25 years being the neighborhood’s journeyman drummer and promoting scene unity. But at this point in my life it might be too late to sell out and get a corporate 9-to-5 office job with health benefits,” said Wallace. “I’ve been testing the waters a bit, like having my neck tattoos removed and paying for food from Erewhon instead of walking out without paying. I just don’t want to be in my 70s and still be wondering how everything would’ve turned out if I’d only auditioned for Maroon 5.”

Wallace’s wife was surprised that he was even considering becoming a sellout.

“Watching Paul make music with his friends and scream ‘ACAB’ at police horses is what made me fall in love with him in the first place. So when he strolled into the kitchen wearing a clean polo and khakis I nearly threw up,” said Felicia Wallace. “The window to live a boring milquetoast life in the suburbs has already passed. Besides, he’d probably regret it after six months and go back to playing gigs at ICE protests, like he was meant to do.”

Local therapists noted a mid-life crisis could manifest itself in untraditional ways.

“Unlike a typical existential crisis where an individual wants to let loose after finding themselves living in a prison they built for themselves, I’ve seen many punks hit their 40s and immediately begin second-guessing their decision to not trading in their guitars and get a job in finance and a beige sedan,” said Dr. Veronica Hendricks. “It’s very common to believe the grass is greener on the other side when you’ve lived your life a certain way for a long period of time. But in my experience, anyone with an anti-conformity stance reverts back to their old ways the second they find themselves thanking a police officer for their service.”

As of press time, Felicia Wallace was horrified to learn her husband joined a band that was opening for Coldplay.

Oh, You’re a Cradle of Filth Fan? Name Three H.P. Lovecraft Stories

Posted on by S.L. Neechski

Hey you. Yeah, you with the choker and the “Vestal Masturbation” shirt. Wow, you really bought that. And you’re wearing that in public. Better you than me, I guess. I don’t need snowflakes yelling at me for wearing a t-shirt.

You must really like Cradle of Filth. I like ’em because they answer the question, “What if Tim Burton adapted an Ann Rice novel?” Cradle’s great and all, but being a fan requires a lotta kayfabe. Hell, if you wanna enjoy Cradle’s music, you need a bigger suspension of disbelief than watching Tara Reid play an archaeologist.

Anyway, since you’re such a Cradle fan, name three stories by H.P. Lovecraft.

“The Call of Cthulhu”? Too obvious. Metallica named a song after it. But since we’re talking Cradle of Filth, let’s talk about their song “Cthulhu Dawn.” Even with lines like “Halitosis of the soul” and “So begins the sibilant world death knell,” it’s skippable because it’s one of their less pretentious tracks. The premier Cradle songs make you cringe when quoted. If Dani Filth’s lyrics were a person, they’d be the dude at Cons who says “M’lady” as he tips his trilby.

“Beyond the Wall of Sleep”? C’mon. You know that one because of Black Sabbath. This story really doesn’t jive with Cradle, though. The sci-fi narrative doesn’t allow for backwards Yoda-speak like “Uncertain words my heart denied” from “Blackest Magick In Practice” and archaic language favored by Dani like “thy,” “thou,” and “thee.” Dani is only really himself when he sounds like a Lord of the Rings character, after all.

“The Dunwich Horror”? There we go. Sure sounds like a Cradle song, doesn’t it? It ain’t, but a line like “[T]he fireflies come out in abnormal profusion to dance to the raucous, creepily insistent rhythms of stridently piping bullfrogs” certainly sounds like Dani’s awesomely ostentatious writing. His try-hard poetry has always been a “fuck you” to rationality and good taste, and the band’s better for it.

So yeah, Cradle of Filth does everything to excess. Then again, Lovecraft sometimes does that, too. As soon as Dani’s done being sued by his former bandmates, maybe he’ll have time to go full Lovecraft on the next Cradle record. Heavily-ringed fingers crossed.

Inept Sex Talk Has Son Wondering If Dad Somehow Virgin

Posted on by Kevin Coutu

CLEVELAND — Following a vague, inaccurate, and oddly theoretical explanation of human reproduction, local 13-year-old Kyle Hartley is reportedly beginning to suspect his father may somehow still be a virgin, sources confirmed Monday.

“It sounded like he was describing something he’d read about once in a pamphlet from a dentist’s office, or maybe just heard in passing,” said Kyle Hartley, becoming increasingly skeptical and concerned the more he thought about it. “His hand gestures alone seemed way off. At one point he drew two stick figures holding hands with a dotted line between them labeled ‘maybe here.’ I know this is the first time I’m hearing any of this, but I feel incredibly confident that none of this can be right.“

The boy’s father, 47-year-old Doug Hartley, who had reportedly spent three days preparing notes for the conversation, attempted to clarify his remarks.

“So, uh, when a man… and a woman… decide to, you know, uh, take things up a notch, there’s a kind of… it’s less about the physical mechanics and more… ,” Doug Hartley said, as he avoided eye contact and searched for the right words. “There’s like, an energy, and a timing, and making sure everything sort of, lines up, you know, the way it’s supposed to. I mean, you don’t want to rush it, because then it won’t… then it doesn’t work, right? You can’t overthink this kind of thing, but you can, you know what I mean?”

Kyle Hartley’s mother, Susan Hartley, who overheard the entire conversation, admitted she was now questioning her husband’s sexual history.

“He told our son to ‘keep his socks on so his feet don’t get confused,’ and that ‘the whole thing takes about as long as a microwave burrito,’” said Susan Hartley, staring blankly at her wine glass. “We’ve been married for 19 years. We have a teenager. Clearly at some point we must have… but is it possible? Did Doug somehow get through all of this without ever actually — no. No, that’s insane. Right? No. No… Right?”

At press time, a flop-sweating Doug Hartley was reportedly asking his son if he had any follow-up questions about “the mutual agreement zone.”