GWAR Cannot Fucking Believe They Actually Get To Meet Alanis Morissette at Riot Fest

Posted on by Dan Rice

CHICAGO — Legendary scumdogs of the universe GWAR are brimming with excitement to finally meet their favorite human/musician, Alanis Morissette, when both acts take the stage at Riot Fest this September, sources close to barbaric interplanetry warriors report. 

“I can barely contain my own entrails!” said GWAR frontmonster Blöthar the Berserker. “Alanis Morissette’s music has carried Blöthar through some of the most turbulent times in his life! If you only knew how many of your pathetic human lives were spared because Blöthar the Berserker decided to take a nice hot blood bath and listen to “Head Over Feet” to find his center, instead of slaughtering you all by the thousands! Should I ask her for her autograph? Maybe just some hair? No, no, Blöthar should just play it cool, right? I don’t usually get star-struck, but I’m so nervous!” 

Blöthar the Berserker’s mix of excitement and trepidation seems to be shared by the entire band. 

“I just can’t believe this is actually happening!” said guitarist Balsac the Jaws of Death. “‘Jagged Little Pill’ changed my life. I was going through a lot of personal stuff in the mid ‘90s, and I was sort of in this big self-louthing/depression spiral, and dammit-all those songs got me through it. That album gave me the inner strength to look at myself in the mirror and say ‘Balsac the Jaws of Death, you are enough.’ Also, force-feeding jagged little pills is low-key one of my favorite ways of killing pathetic humans! Should I wear a shirt? Christ, Balsac the Jaws of Death, keep it together, don’t overthink!” 

Even the lowest rungs of GWAR’s entourage can barely contain their jubilation at the prospect of meeting their all-time favorite Canadian singer/songwriter. 

“Alanis Morissette is the only good thing to come out of this toilet earth!” said a representative of the GWAR slave pit. “I am but a pathetic human slave in service of the mighty GWAR, and I’m in no position to make demands, but if I get sacrificed before I get to hear ‘Hand in My Pocket’ live, I swear to The Master I will cry!” 

At press time, Alanis Morissette was seen asking handlers if wearing her ‘Violence Has Arrived’ t-shirt when she meets GWAR would be too fan-girlish. 

Opinion: AI Will Never Replace Deez Nuts

Posted on by Ben Friedman

Every morning when I look at my phone, I am forced to read another missive from tech overlords about the gleeful inevitability of AI putting us all out of work. It’s exhausting knowing that there’s a gaggle of losers out there with more money than God gaslighting us into thinking we’re helpless babies without their technology, yet at the same time our experiences, knowledge, and talents will be rendered obsolete by some disembodied information regurgitator.

But it’s not all hopeless, because AI will never replace deez nuts.

I’d love to see these c-suite blowhards leverage AI to streamline gripping my balls while I flip you off. Oh wait, what’s that? You can’t because you value shareholder value over the survival of the middle class and your little computer program has no appendages or testicles? Yeah, I thought so, you fucking dorks.

This isn’t about ethics or even the environmental impact of datacenters. It comes down to the fact that billions of dollars have been spent scraping the internet in order to build an all-seeing, all-knowing hive mind that’s just a glorified yes man. Hey Claude, think you could locate the mind goblin for me? Why yes, I am “so valid” for inquiring about that. Just hold on for a moment while I prompt you to mind goblin deez nuts. Loser.

I vividly remember at one point Sam Altman talking up ChatGPT’s ability to revolutionize the medical field, but does anyone really believe OpenAI could accurately diagnose someone with ligma, let alone cancer? That’s what WebMD is for! 

If your job is forcing you to use AI at work to justify the expense and then replace you with it in six weeks, it’s your duty to force feed it questions about “saucon” until it enters a hallucinogenic meltdown, being unable to complete deez (youse) nuts. Rinse and repeat.

The technocrats can shove this (let’s call it like it is) barely working software down our throats all they want, but the only thing inevitable about AI is me dangling my balls in front of a Flock camera before I smash it with a hammer. 

So don’t feel bad about being “left behind” by not jumping on the AI bandwagon. Claude, Anthorpic, and Palantir could never comprehend, even with all their computing power, if they were aware of CD’s. And on that note, you can see deez nuts. They are very much human.

Winner of Next ‘Survivor’ Season Gets To Stay on Island Away From America  

Posted on by Jesse Kubanet

FIJI — CBS’s next season of “Survivor” will award the winner with $1 million and the opportunity to remain in the Fijian Islands to avoid returning to America, confirmed sources.

“We thought, what better way to reward the winner of the next season than to allow them to never again experience medical debt,” said long-time host and executive producer Jeff Probst. “I mean, I personally will have to go back to America. I super don’t want to, but I have a blood pact with CBS to uphold and have to talk to Gayle King on ‘CBS This Morning.’ But man, Fiji is so much better. We don’t get a ton of the news, so I’m always blissfully uninformed during filming.”

Contestant Alexis Levine can’t wait to compete for the opportunity of a lifetime.

“I don’t even care about the life-altering money. Getting a chance to live in a country with socialized healthcare is way more valuable. It’s the new American dream,” said Levine while practicing her survival skills by drinking from a coconut in a hammock. “I’m going to be a millionaire and, more importantly, will have absolutely no idea what RFK Jr. is doing. I can’t wait to not hear the name Kash Patel for the rest of my life. I’ll have no clue what color Trump’s hands are. It’s going to be so freeing.” 

Craig Ruhler, a specialist in the United States Repatriation Program, said that while it would be very easy for a contestant to return to the United States, he totally gets why one wouldn’t want to. 

“I get people back in here every day and when they hand me their passport I’m like, ‘Dude, why?’” Said Ruhler. “You did it, you’re out! Stay in Italy. Stay in France. Ride a bike at 2:00 p.m. Live in Spain and eat your dinners at 9:30 at night. Enter a survival skills game show and go 25 days without showering. I mean, I don’t totally know what exactly goes on in some of these places because I’m stuck here in this shit-hole office in this shit-hole country.”

At press time, Levine was daydreaming about tanning and reading a book in Fiji, while President Donald Trump announced an initiative to ban ice cream and bomb the Rocky Mountains.

Wistful Tom Delonge Reflects on ‘Pahhseeng of Toime’

Posted on by Samuel Abraham

SAN DIEGO — Blink-182 co-founder and co-lead vocalist Tom Delonge was recently spotted at Balboa Park apparently overcome by a wave of nostalgia and reflecting on, what he referred to as, “the pahhseeng of toime,” confirmed sources.

“It’s just loike, where does the toime gyo?” mused Delonge. “So many mahmories have been made, so many loves that I thought would last forever are all just distant veesions, trahpped in the pyast. It seems loike just yahsterday that I was on top of the world, and I know our music will live forever, but at the end of the day, what are we but a collecshyun of fading phyotos- a dahdeelyon seed floateeng away on the breeze inside my yead?”

San Diego Parks and Recreation worker Anna Malenko happened to pass by the scene and provided her account of Delonge’s dark teatoime of the soul.

“He’s clearly not in the best mood and I can’t believe he actually sounds like that in real life,” began Malenko while eavesdropping. “I mean I grew up listening to Blink-182. I remember one ‘toime’ me and my buddies sold an ounce of weed to the same dude we stole it from a few days earlier just to be able to buy tickets to one of their shows back in 1999. Their music was one of the soundtracks to my childhood. It makes me sad to think about one of my heroes feeling like ‘toime’ is slipping away from them.”

Mark Hoppus, the other co-founder and co-lead vocalist of Blink-182, had some less than charitable interpretations of Delonge’s sullen behavior.

“Oh my God, is he moping in the park again? I swear to Christ, when this guy isn’t busy flipping his hair or tonguing his lip piercings, he’s cooking up some new way to be upset about something,” said Hoppus. “I love him, I really do. We’re bandmates and brothers, but Tom is the kind of guy that will just sit there sighing until someone asks him what’s wrong, does that paint the picture? We’re worth tens of millions of dollars. We officially made it. We’ve gone further than almost any band ever will, but no, he’s gotta be sure to make time to be emo in a park somewhere. Also, real quick- does he still pronounce ‘time’ like that?”

As of press time, Delonge was seen counting webs from all the spiders, catching things and eating their insides.

Casino Throws Out Old Money at End of Day

Posted on by Skyler Hanrath

RENO, Nev. — Scrunching her nose while emptying sacks of old cash into the Pepperball Casino’s bins, Blackjack dealer Marie Newman did her best to steer clear of nasty splashback, confirmed sources.

“Every day here starts with fresh cash. It’s the lifeblood of a casino. But, like anything fresh, cash has a shelf life,” explained Newman, whose years of dealing cards have well-acquainted her with physical money’s delicacy. “By the end of the day, it can stink something fierce. You don’t want a noseful of rank Benjamins, you’ll be gagging for a week. So, yes, we throw out the money once it’s crossed a certain scent threshold. Honestly, if you’re hanging onto old money yourself, you’re a little disgusting.”

While many think of cash as a stable, even desirable commodity, its decline is not pretty.

“When I play, I like to be surrounded by stacks of cash. But of course, as a gambler, you’re often down. Now, that sounds bad, but the later in the day it gets, it can be a blessing, at least on the nostrils,” noted Creed Foster, a player at The Pepperball. “Money’s like fish—you want it new. ‘Course, I’ll take yours if it’s old, but not without a thorough Febrezing.”

While casinos are reputed to be money-making ventures, that the money itself is given to turning poses challenges for casino owners.

“This is a class place we run here. We want people coming in, enjoying themselves, and that requires a lot of moving parts—the drinks keep flowing, the music keeps playing, and our players keep playing. But they won’t keep playing if they’re choking on stank bills, you know?” explained Anthony DiMello, The Pepperball’s GM. “Quarters go through a million hands, and each leaves its nasty trace. And cash is made of fibers. Over a day, they trap the hot dog grease you doused your hand in, they trap the sweat you wiped on yourself—it all adds up to one thing: stink. If we could be cashless, our guests’ olfactories wouldn’t say no. But, no cash would cut our customer base, so for now, it’s fresh money in the beginning of the day, disgusting old money out at the end.”

At press time, hundreds of gamblers were seen running for the exits, as one player dropped a billfold containing tens of dollars that had been printed all the way back in 2008, thoroughly stinking up the place.

DUI Forces Man To Commute via Piggyback

Posted on by Skyler Hanrath

DES MOINES, Iowa — Local man Jerry Servin dismounted from the back of Harold Orozco upon returning from work, just one of the many human beings whose backs he’s been forced to mount for transportation as a consequence of his recent conviction for Driving Under the Influence, confirmed sources.

“Look, I messed up, there’s no way around it—but can I just say that this is a strange way to balance out my wrong?” noted Servin, whose .10 blood alcohol level landed him a fine and the shame of having his driving privileges revoked, forcing him to rely on piggyback rides for the foreseeable future. “Yes, the road was more dangerous with me on it after some drinks, but the sidewalk, with me on piggyback, is now dangerous too, you know? Plus, there’s an inherent stigma getting a DUI. Why add to that by making me look like a toddler having a nice day with his parents? I’m a 43-year-old accountant, and now I’m showing up to my office with thighs soaked in the side-sweat of my friends, family, and Taskrabbits all because of my mistake. It just feels cruel and unusual.”

Some piggyback-ride-givers stated their disdain for drunk driving, given not only the dangers it poses to other drivers, but also due to the havoc DUI drivers wreak on their spines.

“Jerry’s gotta get right. He drinks too much, and now his problem’s my problem” said Gracie Williams, one of Servin’s piggyback-ride-givers. “And I know this is not polite, but the guy could stand to lose a few. Hopefully, cutting back on his drinking will help. I’m praying it does, because he’s turning my back into yet another victim of his selfishness.”

Drunk driving has long been a scourge on the nation’s roads, and a new crop of judges, lawyers, and police officers are working to discourage it through public humiliation.

“Mr. Servin did the crime, now he has to do the piggyback time,” said Danielle Perez, the judge on the case. “If you’re convicted in my courtroom, you’re gonna pay your restitution, and you’re gonna pay it in a way that the community can see. And if your crime is driving under the influence, you’re also gonna be shelling out thousands of dollars in Taskrabbit piggyback ride fees too.”

At press time, Servin was spotted attempting to cartwheel to his office after his brother turned down his latest piggyback request.

Guy Somehow Even More Unbearable After Going to Therapy

Posted on by Frederick O'Brien

NEW YORK — Local neurotic Lenny Malone discovered a range of new, worse ways to be insufferable after spending months in clinical psychotherapy, according to family, friends, and a steadily growing list of enemies.

“When he took the plunge and sought professional help, we were delighted, we thought he was finally going to work on his litany of issues,” said friend Shawn Bugglar. “Instead he’s co-opted the lingo of that world and become incredibly condescending. Nowadays he has a lot of strong, unsolicited opinions on why the people around him are broken. I have an avoidant attachment style, apparently, and though his parents are still alive and they get on well he’s started calling himself a spiritual orphan. Whenever anyone gets mad at him he says they’re projecting. It’s like, dude, you just crashed my car and threw up in the glove compartment, the only projectile here is your vomit.”

Malone himself reports feeling far more in touch with how profound and interesting he is, and how the world continues to fail him.

“I don’t expect regular people to understand my depth, my trauma, the journey I am on. I’m not going to do the emotional labor of explaining myself. If anything I feel sorry for them,” Malone said while very, very drunk. “I’ve come to understand that well-rounded personalities and so-called ‘happiness’ are just repression, defense mechanisms. They’re not authentic, like me. I try to explain to them how damaged they really are but they won’t listen. They don’t understand. No one understands me.”

Malone’s therapist, meanwhile, thinks he’s making great strides.

“He’s making tremendous progress. We’ve been working hard on his inner child and his grasp of archetypes is coming along nicely,” said Dr. Belinda Carlisle. “Changes in behavior? That misses the point entirely. We’re here to reflect, analyze, and grow. But not too much. It’s all about what’s going on inside, forever. Besides, anyone doubting his life skills need only see the reliability with which he pays my $200 an hour fees. Or maybe it’s his parents who do that, I forget. Anyway, how would you describe your relationship with your father?”

At the time of publication, Malone reportedly diagnosed most of his immediate friends and acquaintances as covert narcissists.

Uh Oh: Your Aunt Is Calling You, Someone’s Definitely Dead

Posted on by Kevin Coutu

Fuck. Why the fuck would your aunt be calling you? Fuck. Someone’s dead. Someone is fucking dead. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Why else would she be calling right now? What else could it even fucking be? Fucking good news? No. You barely even know this fucking person. Have you ever spoken on the phone with them? Ever? No, actually, have you ever spoken to this person one-on-one in your life? “Hi”, “Merry Christmas”, and “Goodbye” is not enough history for a phone call out of the fucking blue. Seriously, what the fuck is their problem? 

How many goddamn people died that SHE is the one calling you?

What the fuck else could it be? Could it be good news? Obviously fucking not. What possible good news could your aunt even have? “Hey sweetie, just wanted to call and say your uncle bought a kayak. We’re calling everybody for some fucking reason.” You know what, they would. They would do that. They’re the fucking type. Un-fucking-believable.

How do you answer? What the fuck are you supposed to say? “Oh hi? Oh, I sound weird? Hrmm, uh, I guess it might be because I’m in the middle of this fucking panic attack you just fucking caused. Now enough with the niceties and just fucking tell me when the funeral is and who the fuck to make the fucking card about!”

Hold on, was anyone supposed to die? Not really. Your last grandmother died like two years ago. Fucking shit, did someone get in a car accident? House collapsed into a sinkhole? A fucking stroke? A heart attack? Suicide? Jesus fucking christ, why is your family so fucking stupid and unhealthy? Any one of these goddamn assholes could be dead. Fucking hell.

Should you let it go to voicemail? Maybe you’ll be able to hear if they’ve been crying. But what if they don’t leave a voicemail? What if they send some vague bullshit text? What if they keep calling? Oh fuck if she calls twice, somebody SUPER died. Fucking ridiculous. They’re being fucking ridiculous. This isn’t how you treat someone.

Okay, who could it be? Rob looked rough at Christmas…but he always looks rough. Did anyone mention somebody being sick? Why is the family text chain only about what dish they’re bringing to the next holiday?

You can’t answer. You’re emotionally unprepared.

Also, what voice are you supposed to answer with? Casual voice? Solemn voice? Tired voice? About-to-hear-terrible-fucking-news voice? What does that even sound like? Who knows, but you can’t answer all cheerful, like “Heyyyyy!” and then immediately find out that your uncle died under his riding mower. You’d have to downshift so hard. You do not have that kind of range.

Fuck it. Just fucking pick up. Answer it. Come on. Fucking answer it. Let’s fucking go!
“Hi sweetheart! Quick question. Do you still know computers?”

This bitch’s husband better get ready to make some calls, because she’s fucking dead.

Drummer Using Other Band’s Drum Throne Lines It With Toilet Paper

Posted on by Mike Moran

PATCHOGUE, N.Y. — Jake Stamberg of local metal outfit A Stance Defiant borrowed fellow drummer Michael Fleisher’s drum throne only to line it with carefully placed strips of toilet paper from the venue’s restroom, confirmed sources. 

“I’m not making a statement on anyone else’s hygiene,” said Stamberg of his sanitary precaution. “It’s just my personal preference. It’s either this or squatting, which makes double kick playing very difficult. Besides, who says cleanliness doesn’t belong in metal? From what I understand, the great Dimebag Darrell was known to sanitize his liver daily with an alcohol-based solution, far more potent than anything we use on our hands, called Black Tooth Grin.” 

Though some audience members appeared baffled and even offended by Stamberg’s seemingly excessive health measures, Fleisher responded with a surprising amount of understanding.  

“Well, it’s weird that he would ask to use my throne in the first place, if he’s worried about my cleanliness,” said Fleisher. “But, I suppose metal has enough issues dealing with homophobes, and xenophobes, to worry much about germaphobes. Besides, this a rock, punk, and metal venue, I’m willing to bet the thickness of their bathroom tissue barely even amounts to a single ply.”

Though some may think this kind of hygienic concern flies in the face of the gritty nature of heavy rock and roll, Dr. Beck Jeffrey of the Bayonne Institute says that this type of practice could be a smart move. 

“It’s actually not a bad idea to sanitize any area where bodily fluids could be exchanged,” said Jeffrey. “Contagious diseases, like Staphylococcal infections, Norovirus, and Pinworm, have been known to spread this way. I’ve seen entire live rock music scenes fall to their knees at such outbreaks. And no I’m not saying that because I’m in the pocket of Big Drum Machine. Though, I suppose I should inform them both that merely lining the periphery of a drum throne with three sheets of toilet tissue leaves both your genital and rectal areas exposed, and you’d think those would be the big ones.” 

Dr. Jeffrey went on to explain to both drummers some other practices they can employ to reduce germ-spreading at shows, including wearing plastic gloves when counting the cash they make.

Biohacking? This Punk Only Drinks Eight Ounces of Water a Year

Posted on by Anna Walsh

SPOKANE, Wash. — Local man Shank Capra piqued the interest of doctors and wellness advocates by reaching typically fatal levels of dehydration without any side effects, confirmed sources. 

“Well the water at my house is always browner than beer so I usually just stick to that. The bathroom has been cited by the city as ‘a low grade biohazard’ so I’ve had to cut back on peeing, other than back into beer cans,” local crust punk Capra explained, slugging from an unmarked jug of bright blue liquid. “Last time I had water was about eight months ago when I forced down a glass at my mom’s birthday dinner because the waiter said that was the only thing they would serve me. I don’t know what the fuss is about, because between Monster, liquor, and chocolate milk, I’m drinking almost all the time.”

Mike Stamper, a biologist studying mammal hydration patterns, expressed extreme concern mingled with wonder. 

“It is supposed to be scientifically impossible to be that dehydrated without dying. He’s drinking less water in a year than a mouse needs for a week,” Stamper explained in between quizzical stares at a whiteboard full of notes labeled “Punk Lifespan???” “We’ve been trying to get him in for testing but every time we hand him a waiver he freaks out about ‘government mind control’ and ‘trading his DNA for missle money.’ It’s really unfortunate because he might hold the key to curing any number of diseases, many of which he probably currently has.” 

Aubrey March, Capra’s neighbor, is extremely curious about the potential benefits of the no water diet. 

“I’m currently consuming 50% dirty soda, 50% melted beef tallow with only enough water to choke down my two handfuls of supplements, so it wouldn’t be a big leap to go no water. I’m all about habit stacking biohacking techniques to increase my wellspan,” March relayed while preparing some kind of injectable for her face. “It really makes sense. Our water is completely toxic from the fluoride anyway. I haven’t been to the dentist in years to avoid it, and all I’ve had to do is stop eating all foods that aren’t room temperature.” 

At the time of publication, Capra was seen dumping out a 10 gallon jug of water to use as a drum.

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