Baby Saves Marriage, Kills Band

Posted on by Tim Graham

FAIRHAVEN, Mass. — A new baby daughter helped local couple Ben and Hannah Brenner reconnect, though her arrival signaled the end of the father’s band, according to the relieved mothers-in-law.

“I know that having a baby to save a marriage isn’t always the greatest idea,” said Mr. Brenner while changing a diaper on top of a disused Marshall 4×12 cabinet. “However, in this case it seems to have worked. Hannah and I are growing closer than ever as we navigate the challenges of parenthood together. Of course, having a baby means I no longer had time for my band, The Razor Snakes. No more touring in a van with the guys or partying backstage. I kind of had to leave the punk lifestyle behind. That being said, parenthood is pretty punk rock if you ask me.”

The other members of The Razor Snakes were disappointed that the band had to end.

“Ben promised us he’d still make time for the band and that nothing would change,” said drummer Phil Pappas. “But somewhere around the third trimester it was clear he couldn’t be a dad and a degenerate punk guitarist. I mean, good for him for being a responsible husband and father, but also, that’s lame as hell. The thing is, we used to practice in his garage—now there’s a Diaper Genie where my kick drum used to be. We’re currently auditioning new guitarists who have a garage or basement and have also had a vasectomy.”

Veteran rock musician Brent Dix says he’s seen this scenario play out many times over his career.

“There is no greater threat to a rock band than a baby,” said Dix. “Your bandmate will claim that they won’t change, but it’s inevitable. They stop coming to practice, they bail out on shows. Then they disappear altogether. You see them a few months later and it’s like they’ve developed Stockholm Syndrome, saying things like, ‘Some of They Might Be Giants’ kids songs actually kind of slap.’ The music gear begins collecting dust. This Ben guy probably won’t pick up a guitar again until his kid is off to college.”

At press time, Mr. Brenner listed his beloved ‘78 Stratocaster on reverb.com to help with daycare costs.

ICE Accidentally Sends Maduro Back to Venezuela

Posted on by Dan Rice

WASHINGTON — In a stunning instance of miscommunication between departments, ICE agents have deported Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro back to Venezuela just hours after he was abducted by the DEA.

“ICE is simply doing its job and keeping America safe from world leaders,” said a defensive Kristi Noem. “I don’t know how the liberal media is trying to spin this, but Maduro is a bad hombre. He is a dangerous man, has known ties to drug cartels, and has absolutely no legal right to be captured in the United States. Adios, buster!”

The move has been met with strong criticism from the rest of Trump’s cabinet, most vocally from RFK Jr., who reportedly had high hopes that Maduro could “Hook it up with some Molly.”

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

Guy in Motörhead Shirt Sick of People Asking Him To Change Their Carburetors

Posted on by Steve Packosky

LAKE FOREST, Ill. — Metalhead Darryl Washburn found himself getting exhausted by the constant requests from his friends and family to change their carburetors after he stepped out of the house in a Motörhead shirt, sources report.

“Why is it that this happens every time I step out of the house in my ‘Overkill’ shirt?” Washburn lamented. “I just like the music, man. Just because I’m a Motörhead fan doesn’t mean I know how to replace fuel injectors. I don’t know shit about cars, but everybody assumes the opposite when they see that I like Motörhead. I drive a Honda Fit, and I don’t even know how to change a tire. For Christ’s sake, I barely even know how to pump my own gas. Everyone just needs to back off and stop judging me because of my shirt. I just want to listen to ‘Tear Ya Down’ and be left in peace.”

Washburn’s cousin Jillian Burkett was irritated at his choice of clothing.

“What the fuck is Darryl doing wearing that shirt if he can’t even rotate my tires or figure out why my check engine light has been on for months?” Burkett complained. “Everybody knows that people who wear Motörhead shirts are either mechanics or gearheads who can fix any car issue. I would argue that he isn’t actually a Motörhead fan if he can’t even replace my carburetor. This fucking sucks. I had just assumed that I was going to get this done for free because I had a family connection. Now I have to make an appointment with a mechanic who’s likely going to overcharge me. Thanks a lot, Darryl.”

Sociologist Darnell Jeter has seen situations like this before.

“People tend to assume others’ professions or hobbies based on their band shirts,” Jeter explained. “I recently conducted a case study in which a crowd assumed a man in a Carcass shirt would be able to perform an emergency appendectomy on someone. Not to mention the endless invitations to go skateboarding that people receive when they wear Goldfinger shirts. It’s easy for us to jump to conclusions when we see other people wearing band merch, but it’s probably best for us to adhere to Occam’s Razor and take people’s shirts as nothing more than an indication that they are fans of that particular band.”

At press time, Washburn was seen explaining to a friend that the stain on his Motörhead shirt was dressing from an Italian hoagie and not, in fact, motor oil.

Cheater? My Ex-Boyfriend Started Dating Someone New 

Posted on by Dom Turek

Don’t bother with handwriting analyses, enneagram tests, and aura readings. Don’t even worry about attachment theory or astrology forecasts. The only way to determine someone’s true character is to look at their breakup style, because just when I thought I’d found the perfect man, he hits me with, “Amanda, we broke up eight months ago, stop calling me.” 

Whoever coined the phrase “if you love something, set it free” was probably a deranged sociopath with a severe oedipal complex. When you love someone, you don’t let a silly little thing like breaking up keep you from being together. Do you think that swans, or beavers, or any other mate-for-life animals would let something as trivial as “misaligned core values” get in the way of their whirlwind romance? 

We still have so much to learn from nature. Consider the louse fish. These parasitic crustaceans bind themselves to fish’s tongues, suck their blood until the tongue withers away, then attach to the remaining stub and feed off their blood and mucus. An intimate, yet transactional love story to remind us that true love isn’t always pretty, but it’s always worth it. 

I was supposed to be his tongue-eating louse, and now I’m watching from the sidelines like a common molly as he posts pictures of himself and his new girlfriend apple picking upstate. Hopefully, he’s forthcoming and tells her he still has a very serious ex-girlfriend in the picture. I tried to warn her myself, but something must be wrong with her phone because every time I type in her name, it says “Instagram account not found.” 

Faced with such blatant disrespect and adulterous behavior, I’m trying to be the bigger person, but it’s not easy. I have tried everything from amateur love spells to gossiping about his penis size to inserting myself into his friend group to make it harder for him to detach from me, but to no avail. It seems that there is no simple solution to heartbreak. 

With our first anniversary right around the corner, I’m honestly willing to let bygones be bygones provided he plans something big. It’s important to book in advance if we want to take that sushi tasting course everyone’s been raving about, but he isn’t responding to any of my messages. I can take a hint. That must mean he wants to talk in person. 

Experts Warn Resurgence of Nu-Metal Could Be a Precursor to Another Swing Revival

Posted on by Steve Packosky

ANN ARBOR, Mich. — Experts at the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research have warned that the resurgence of nu-metal over the past few years could be a precursor to a renewed nationwide interest in swing music not seen since the ‘90s.

“We’ve been concerned with this for a couple years now,” said sociologist Tiana Melbrook. “As soon as we saw nu-metal become popular again, thanks largely to social media platform TikTok, we’ve been warning that it could lead to another swing revival. After all, the two genres surged in popularity at the same time in the mid-to-late ‘90s, so it’s completely feasible to presume that it could happen again. I want to take this opportunity to personally warn young adults against dabbling too frivolously in nu-metal music and fashion, because a comeback by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy could result, which is something nobody wants.”

Recent nu-metal fan Kyle Vulmer was taken aback by the news.

“Oh wow, I hadn’t thought of that,” Vulmer gasped as he recoiled in horror. “I’ve been getting into bands like Slipknot and Spineshank, as well as wearing choker chains and Tripp pants, but I guess I didn’t think about what could result from that. I had completely forgotten that nu-metal’s original popularity coincided with a brief surge in swing music. God, that ‘Mr. Pinstripe Suit’ song was absolutely terrible, and I can’t believe I would be partly responsible if we were to be subjected to something like that again. I’m going to do the socially responsible thing and swear off all nu-metal right now.”

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy frontman Scotty Morris was excited to hear that his band might make a comeback.

“I had been aware that nu-metal was big again, and I’ve been secretly hoping we would be next,” Perry noted. “Most people don’t know this, but my band has been pretty active ever since our handful of hits 30 years ago. We’re more ready than ever to start playing Super Bowl halftime shows and having our music pervade the airwaves again. I’ll find a new fedora to wear in our promo shots and start researching colloquialisms and slang from World War II for new song titles and lyrics. I for one couldn’t be more excited, so who’s stoked to hear some more Big Bad Voodoo Daddy?”

At press time, Melbrook was fearing for the worst after observing a sharp uptick in the sale of pinstriped suits.

Crust Punk Sets Sail for Fabled Promised Land of Pacific Garbage Patch

Posted on by Trevor Graham

SAN FRANCISCO — A local crust punk announced plans to set sail on open waters to discover the fabled promised land of the Pacific Garbage Patch, sources who asked to bum a smoke confirmed.

“Yeah man, I’ve had it with society and I’m going to find that giant floating garbage patch and make a new life for myself. There’s a putrid island out there somewhere covered in cigarette butts, half-empties of PBR and moldy donuts. It’s everything I could ever need,” said Derek “Squizz Face” Robins. “I built this boat out of some oil drums I found and made a sail out of old issues of Maximum RockNRoll. If it starts to leak I can patch it with all these Amebix patches I have. DIY or die!”

Some friends of Robins aren’t so sure about his plans of exploration for a new world though as it seems like a fantasy.

“I don’t know, it just all sounds too good to be true. A giant trash heap to live on forever? There’s no way the government would allow that to exist,” said Rotten Doug. “How long could someone really survive on a thing like that? Sure, you could live off all the garbage people have thrown away but where are you going to get your Fent from? No one’s throwing any of that into the ocean.”

Crust punk historian Chuck “Infected Leg Wound” Harrison explains that while Robins may consider his actions to be historic, he is not the first to attempt it.

“There have been a lot of punks who’ve tried to sail to the garbage patch and some may have even made it there, we really don’t know,” said Harrison. “We do know about Mikey ‘Leanin’ Evans who hit the seas on a raft made from Nausea seven-inches and found a massive pile of beautifully disgusting trash, used needles, and human shit only to discover he was actually just in Philadelphia.”

At press time, Robins said he was holding off on his voyage after hearing reports that the garbage patch has become so large it may just reach the shores of the west coast within the next few months.

Impossible! This Guy Brought a Bag of Clothes Straight to the Thrift Store Instead of Letting It Sit in His Trunk for Three Months

Posted on by Ben Friedman

There is a universally accepted unwritten rule that it takes 12 to 15 weeks to move a garbage bag of used clothing from your home to the thrift store. The mental load required to decide which pair of pants stay and which ones to cast off into the bins is so taxing, it only makes sense for it to languish in a car trunk until one can find an extra ten minutes in the week to donate it. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you it’s the natural order of the world.

That is, unless you ask local Minneapolis resident Doug Gleason, who defied all known logic and laws of physics by driving straight from his house with his old clothes to the local Savers in a single day.

“Well, I had nothing else better to do today, so I threw it in the car and dropped it off at the thrift store before checking out some of the used books. They even gave me a 20% coupon for donating, and it was just a bunch of novelty shirts that aren’t funny anymore! I should do this more often.” What kind of Herculean willpower does this man possess? Does he also not let his gas tank run all the way down to fumes?

The donation process has always been to let 50 pounds of clothes marinate in your car for several weeks on the off chance you change your mind about donating something, even if it doesn’t fit anymore. Gleason, however, shows a level of executive function we’ve only seen in NASA mission control or Hall of Fame quarterbacks. Hopefully, upon his death, he’ll donate his brain to science so they can study this outlier of outliers. 

“Come to think of it, I have some old winter jackets at home. I should swing by with them again this afternoon.”

Jesus Christ! Does he not know that clothing isn’t meant to be donated right away, but to serve as a reminder while it collects dust in his Subaru hatchback, that he should do it weeks down the road when everything in his life has perfectly aligned and can handle the mental workload of interacting with another human being in the drop-off line? This guy has the resolve of a Tibetan monk hiking up a mountain in a blizzard, but for giving away clothes he bought before he got an office job. 

Report: Cat Playing With Paper Towel Tube Happier Than You’ll Ever Be

Posted on by Ben Friedman

MINNEAPOLIS — Researchers at the University of Minnesota released the results of a groundbreaking animal behavioral study, finding that a cat playing with a discarded paper towel tube will be infinitely happier than you will ever be.

“After repeated studies monitoring feline brain activity we’ve come to the irrefutable conclusion that our test subject, an orange tabby named Paulie, achieved more happiness and fulfillment simply batting around a used paper towel tube than any of us will ever experience in our lifetimes. And yes, we are taking into consideration the birth of a child and winning the lottery,” said head researcher Devin Bronson. “I’m not trying to make it sound like humanity will never know true joy, but you gotta see this little guy go. He’s having the time of his life whacking around this shitty little cardboard tube without a care in the world. Even God would envy him.”

Paulie’s owner didn’t realize volunteering his cat for the study would lead to a worldwide existential crisis.

“I brought him to be observed for the study because he rejected every toy I’d given so far, and I figured the researchers could assess what could bring him the most contentment. I was not ready for him to be so taken with a piece of recycling. You could see it in his eyes that the shitty paper towel roll provided a level of fun and excitement I couldn’t possibly muster up on,” said Brian Holtz. “Does he have a bottomless reserve of dopamine, or did society collectively build a prison in which we can’t derive joy from the simple things in life? Maybe they can use this study to create some new drug we can take to find joy in fucking around with cardboard.”

Paulie himself did not understand why the study was so significant.

“I knew humans were dumb, but Jesus Christ. What more is there to life than tube? It’s the best thing ever. Have they tried knocking it around the living room for six hours and then licking their asshole? It’s not that complicated,” said Paulie. “The guy who was testing me said something about me triggering a collective angst among human civilization or whatever. Bro, just knock a coffee mug off the kitchen table.”

Paulie was later observed achieving an even higher level of serenity after shredding apart an entire Costco package of paper towels throughout the house and shitting in the bathtub.

Woody Guthrie’s Guitar Detained by Masked Federal Agents

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

TULSA, Okla. — The guitar that once belonged to legendary folk musician Woody Guthrie was seized by federal agents and charged with domestic terrorism in a raid on the Woody Guthrie Center late Tuesday evening, confirmed sources. 

 “We were informed that a potentially dangerous piece of Americana was in the hands of individuals actively promoting not only anti-government sentiment, but folk music. Truly disgusting,” said FBI Director Kash Patel. “It’s clear to us that this guitar, with its promise to ‘destroy fascist,’ is the clear ring leader of the terrorist organization ANTIFA. It’s an endorsement of violent resistance, and we simply cannot allow this type of radicalism to go unchecked. Following a lengthy and expensive standoff with the so-called musical instrument, we had successfully apprehended the guitar, and it is being ‘tuned up’ in Alligator Alcatraz as we speak.”

The raid, conducted by a team of heavily armed agents wearing tactical gear, was described as clumsy and ineffective by Woody Guthrie Center employee Jayne Westfield.

“I was in the gift shop, making change for a kid buying a t-shirt with ‘This Land Is Your Land’ on it when they burst in,” said Westfield. “One of the guys put a black bag over the headstock to ‘keep it from knowing where it was going.’ I don’t know if these guys just watched ‘Night at the Museum’ the night before but I promise the guitar is not sentient. They also tore up the whole room, flipping over exhibits and ripping up a bunch of Woody’s old flannel shirts. Finally, Kash Patel pulled up in a Maserati with his girlfriend. He was wearing a Sable fur coat that still had the price tag on it and was declaring ‘mission accomplished’ to the press even while the standoff was still going on.”

Trump administration official Mitch Gowno stated that the government has plans to broaden its scope of investigations into other inanimate objects with “subversive” messaging.

“We’re looking at some pretty alarming items, folks. It’s not just guitars. We’ve got our eyes on those anti-capitalist Monopoly sets where players are encouraged to ‘redistribute wealth.’ Obviously the original is still good, though,” explained Gowno. “We’re also looking to get rid of superhero toys, Care Bears, Elmo plushes, and any Barbie doll that has a job.”

At press time, Patel hinted at the possibility of federal agents being sent back in time to arrest Bob Dylan before he went electric.

Opinion: Hockey Is Moshing

Posted on by Steve Packosky

So, the other day my friends invited me to watch the Penguins play the Canadiens down at the arena. I’m definitely not a sports guy by any stretch of the imagination, but I will happily grace any gathering with my presence if there’s beer involved, and luckily for me, there were plenty of Labatt Blue pounders for me to avail myself of. So I downed about 7 of those bad boys and sat down to watch the game.

Granted, I have absolutely no idea how hockey is played. It’s way too fast and I don’t know who is supposed to do what when they’re in possession of the ball, or puck, or whatever the fuck it’s called. So there I am, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, when I hear that all-too familiar lightning/distortion combination of Slayer’s “Raining Blood” starting on the PA, and I’m struck with a revelation that I can only partially ascribe to the gallon of beer sloshing around in my stomach.

Hockey is moshing. That’s all it is. All of these professional “athletes” who have dedicated their entire lives to the craft of pushing their puck around with a stick are doing what? That’s right. They’re just rushing around in a circle, slamming into one another while metal plays. What the hell do you think I’m doing in the mosh pit while I’m seeing Carcass down at Stage AE? The exact same fucking thing, only I wasn’t stupid enough to waste years of my life learning how to do it. Maybe I’m just naturally talented, I dunno, but I’m obviously performing the very feat that these guys are getting paid millions of dollars to do. Seriously, all I would need to do is learn how to skate and try to keep vomiting to a minimum, and I’d basically be Sidney Crosby. 

So think about this the next time you decide to shell out $140 to see what I’ve spent $30 to do at a death metal concert. And I don’t even need to don 25 pounds of safety gear to do it. Let this missive serve as a message to all NHL players that what they’re doing is no more impressive than what your average metalhead does at a show after he’s had too much to drink and forgotten that he’s no longer 17 years old. In the meantime, they’d better make way and let me out on that ice, because I’m officially shitfaced and ready to thump some skulls.