Local Man Still Riding High Off Successfully Recommending Band in 2016

Posted on by Antonio Cruise

PORTLAND, Ore. — Local resident Calvin Davenport continues to experience unprecedented levels of euphoria nearly a decade after successfully recommending midwest emo band Dad Pants to his college roommate Drew Patterson, despite his life being in complete disarray.

“You know, people always say the happiest moment in your life is holding your newborn in your arms, and yeah, that was pretty cool,” said Davenport, before he pulled up the screenshot of Patterson’s text that read “Dude, it’s really good. Thanks for sending it.” “But nothing compares to knowing you’ve introduced a true musical treasure into someone’s life that they never would have known about otherwise. Sure, my ex-wife got full custody and I’m being sued by three different credit card companies, but every time I think about Drew’s first listen to Dad Pants, I get this warm feeling that just washes over my whole body. This is the meaning of life.”

Patterson was bewildered by Davenport’s apparent elation.

“I’m just confused. He’s unemployed, divorced, and had to move back in with his parents,” said Patterson, shifting uncomfortably after running into Davenport at a 7-Eleven. “Yet despite all this, he’s always weirdly cheerful when I see him and immediately brings up the band he showed me like eight years ago. And to be honest, I listened to maybe two songs and thought they were fine but nothing to write home about. I sent him a polite text and somehow that became his entire personality. I just don’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t life-changing. He just seems so happy.”

Dr. Marcus Chen, lead researcher at Portland State University’s Department of Neuroscience, believes Davenport’s case could revolutionize mental health treatment.

“Traditional antidepressants may soon be obsolete,” noted Dr. Chen, methodically documenting Davenport’s dopamine and serotonin levels. “Our research suggests that the neural response to a perceived successful music recommendation is more powerful than any pharmaceutical intervention we’ve studied. We’re already developing a new form of therapy where clinically depressed patients are paired with people who will pretend to enjoy their Spotify playlists.”

At press time, Davenport was seen smiling contentedly after remembering that he once successfully recommended a local Mexican restaurant to a friend.

Happy New Year! My Wife’s Leaving Me for a Puppeteer

Posted on by Travis Tack

Wow, what a year it’s been! I hope this letter finds you happy, healthy, and not being cuckolded. Because I was cuckolded this year, and let me tell you, it’s not as fun as the internet makes it seem.

Looking back, 2024 was a year full of growth and change. For example, my wife changed our relationship status, and I grew sad.

As we ring in 2025, I’d like to thank all of the people who suggested I hire a puppeteer to perform at my birthday. That was a great idea… It’s hard to believe that at this time last year, I was having dinner with my wife and she was telling me all about the interesting man she’d met at my party. She was telling me how “smart” he was and how much she thought I’d like him.

Boy was she wrong about that!

But let’s talk about something I do like: New Year’s Eve! It’s the one night we’re present in the moment and free from obligation. The one night when we dance because we want to dance, and not because some mysterious person is pulling our strings while they sleep with our wives.

New Year is a time for resolutions. You could choose to drink less alcohol, or give up red meat, or — just throwing this out there — stop having sex with my wife. Because none of us are perfect. Like me: I’m going bald, I’m not great at sex, and apparently, our dog prefers the puppet-guy. Also, I’m currently being investigated for securities fraud. But do I let that get me down? Of course, I do.

It’s been a tough year for all of us. A wise man once said: “There are two types of pain. The pain that hurts, and the pain that changes you”. But it turns out, there is a third type of pain – a pain you can only understand when your wife has sex with a puppeteer and then the SEC raids your house.

Luckily, it’s never too late to try something new! For a couple of months, I even considered getting into puppetry myself. I bought a $300 marionette and now it’s sitting in my garage, silently judging me as I run the car with the door closed.

As we close out this year, I encourage you to take a moment to look back on all of your achievements this year. For instance, I earned a promotion at work! But then the executives blamed me for a bunch of financial crimes so that’s sort of a wash.

If you’re going out this year, try to stay safe. And if you’re hosting a party, don’t invite street performers into your home. Did I mention that I confronted the guy in November and he tried blaming it all on his puppet?

Happy New Year!

Chaos in Times Square as Millions of Baby Spiders Hatch From NYE Ball

Posted on by Ben Friedman

NEW YORK — Chaos and panic overwhelmed Times Square after the famous New Year’s Eve ball unexpectedly hatched causing revelers to be showered with millions of spiders, sources at the scene have confirmed.

“This black, ambiguous mass emerged from the ball like some kind of Eldritch horror and we all thought it was some kind of mixed reality advertisement for something dumb like body wash. But no, it was six million fucking banana spiders from the depths of hell and now it’s straight up mayhem. A knockoff Elmo just self-immolated and half the crowd is trying to escape into a single Duane Reade,” said terrified onlooker Mark Chesney. “Though seeing Ryan Seacrest falling through a manhole cocooned in spiderwebs was pretty amazing, we’re all certain this is the end times. Tell my wife I love her and don’t open the windows!”

City maintenance crews attempted to hold back the horde after it became clear help wasn’t arriving.

“Of course the mayor’s office took the lowest bid for this year’s countdown ball and we obviously got what we paid for. I knew something was up when we were installing it and it sounded like it was alive,” said sanitation worker Scott DeMaio. “The cops weren’t going to help until I told them spiders were trying to jump the subway turnstiles, but all they did was shoot indiscriminately into the air while running away. It looks like once again the sanitation team and our brooms are the last line of defense between chaos and civilization.”

Pest exterminators were brought in to assess the situation, though the outlook was bleak.

“Oh yeah, if you import anything from south of the equator, you’re bound to get some stowaways. These little buggers aren’t poisonous but damn are they nasty looking, so I don’t blame these folks for all the clawing and trampling. My brother in Tucson had the same problem when their countdown ball cracked open and out came a whole army of those horned lizards that shoot blood from their eyes,” said Frank Lambowski. “I’d have to use a three-year supply of poison to kill them all, so the best I can do is spray down the trains to keep them from escaping into New Jersey.

As of press time, Governor Hochul declared a state of emergency and asked FEMA to release 900,000 bats into the city to eat the spiders.

Total Loser Spends New Year’s Eve Partying and Having Fun With a Bunch of People in Magical Night They’ll Never Forget

Posted on by Chris Bowen

NEW YORK — Total loser Jay Draboll plans to spend his entire New Year’s Eve partying with friends in what will be deemed an unforgettable night, confirmed sources from their couch.

“I’m going to get blackout drunk so it’ll be an extra memorable evening,” said Draboll while buying novelty 2025 glasses. “There’s going to be friends, booze, games, barnyard animals, carnival rides, candle-making classes, a Danny DeVito lookalike, basket-weaving tutorials, meth, a Gin Blossoms cover band, Settlers of Catan tournament, illegal gambling, Civil War reenactors, Jake Paul’s security guard, bath salts, LARPing, Russian roulette, model train demonstrations, and a live tiger. Sure, it might sound like a small affair to some, but it’s the little things that make me happy. Plus, I get to binge drink and no one is allowed to judge me for it. What a time to be alive and intoxicated.”

Friends of Draboll wished he wasn’t such a nerd when it came to holidays.

“What kind of dork parties on New Year’s Eve with a close group of 50 friends?” said longtime pal Derek Volcan without breaking eye contact with his television. “Me on the other hand, I cannot wait to take an edible, eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and stream ‘Alf’ with my cat before nodding off at 9:30 p.m. and getting a good night’s sleep. It’s going to be the best evening of the year even though it looks identical to every other night of the last 365 days. Besides, the last time I went to a party I accidentally made three or four new friends. Gross.”

Experts highlighted a “to each their own” strategy when it comes to the last holiday of the year.

“Partying is unique to each individual,” said social psychologist Dwayne Mars. “Some prefer the company of as many people as possible to distract from the existential dread of another year’s passing and the realization that we are closer to death. Others actually embrace the nothingness of life and just want to believe that New Year’s Eve is just another day. Either way, we are all losers on the inside.”

At press time, total dweeb Draboll already had plans to sleep in until 3:00 p.m. and order Thai on New Year’s Day to nurse his inevitable hangover.

Look, There’s a Lot Happening in the World Now but I Really Think You Should Give Frank Zappa Another Listen

Posted on by Rob Steinberg

Endless wars. Corporate Greed. Decline of living wages. There are many societal woes in this country that continue to get worse with little positivity in sight. Many issues feel out of our control. Still, there is one issue that remains in your control, and it’s your refusal to check out my Zappa recommendations.

I know we’ve been through this before, but I really think you will enjoy his work if you heard the right tracks. You probably haven’t heard the best stuff. He released sixty-two albums and a hundred twenty-nine more posthumously. I refuse to believe that you bothered to give all of that a listen. His ability to blend genres is far too vast for you to hear a couple of songs and go “I’m done here. He’s just trying too hard to be weird and coming off pretentious”.

As you fear for the future of this country and planet as a whole, take a few hours out of each day to appreciate the soothing music of complex time signatures mixed with kazoo sounds. Lots of great orchestral jazz adjacent experimental work from albums like Hot Rats, Lumpy Gravy, Civilization Phaze III, and ofcourse, Jazz From Hell. I know you said before that you are not into long instrumental jazz pieces with improv dialogue, especially how one features the comedy of uh, Michael Rapaport, but what if I told you that the music sometimes sounded like a Fred Flintstone running on his tippy toes?

Check out the song “I Promise Not To Come In Your Mouth” and you’ll be thinking “what kind of drugs was he smoking when he came up with that one?” Zappa never did drugs once. He was pure Zappa. That’s what makes him special. I Promise Not To Come In Your Mouth is not something he came up with high, but something from the heart. It’s good to remember such passion as you pace back and forth wondering if its possible to raise children in our inevitable future.

Please, please, PLEASE stop watching the news and check out his movies as well. 200 Motels, Baby Snakes, and Uncle Meat are great as long as you skip the terrible attempts at comedy and focus on the animation each one has for about 10 minutes which are all very good. Or perhaps you’d feel better if you heard the music live. He may no longer be with us but his son Dweezil continues to perform all the songs his dad wrote about banging groupies.

It’s time to open that mind, stop having panic attacks, and concentrate on the meaning behind “Don’t Eat Yellow Snow”.

Clown From Slipknot Makes New Year’s Resolution to Hit a Beer Keg With His Baseball Bat at Least 50 Times a Day

Posted on by Steve Packosky

DES MOINES, Iowa — Slipknot percussionist Shawn “Clown” Crahan reportedly resolved to hit a beer keg with his baseball bat at least 50 times a day in 2025, sources confirmed.

“I fell into a routine with this thing and my skills diminished as a result,” Crahan said. “I’m not going to let them slip away, though. I consider it an honor and a privilege to undertake keg and bat duty in Slipknot. Starting now, it’s going to be 50 hits a day, no excuses. I’m also going to keep proper form at the highest priority. No more half-assed, one-handed swings. Going forward, I’m choking up with both hands and staying on the balls of my feet with my weight concentrated on my right side. Just wait until you see me a year from now. It’ll be like a completely new man working the keg on that stage.”

Fan Justin Richer remarked on Crahan’s resolution.

“I just saw Slipknot at their Sacramento show in October,” Richer mentioned. “They were awesome, as usual, but I definitely got the feeling that Clown was phoning it in on the keg. It just didn’t seem like he was putting forth his best effort, even when they played ‘Duality,’ which is where the keg work is most prominent. It was disheartening because there are millions of people who would kill to be swinging that bat up there. I’m glad he’s determined to better himself, though. Honestly, I had been considering swearing off my fandom entirely, but now I’m excited to see them perform after he’s improved his skills.”

Nu-metal life coach Aubrey Carvalho offered her expertise on the situation.

“New Year’s is a great time for our favorite Tripp pants-donning musicians to improve upon their performances,” Carvalho offered. “Whether it’s Fred Durst dusting up on his slow-motion pelvic thrust to full-body headbang he demonstrated so adroitly in the ‘Faith’ music video, or Mudvayne’s Ryan Martinie perfecting the creepy smile in time with his iconic bass line to ‘Dig,’ the decision to resolve to better themselves at the start of the new year is commendable. It’s my job as a life coach to make sure they stick to it, and you’d better believe I’m going to make sure Clown keeps hitting that keg.”

At press time, Slipknot’s other percussionist also vowed to mime masturbating the long nose on his mask for at least an hour every day.

Car Racing, Prostitutes, and Mountains of Cocaine: A Breakdown of Jimmy Carter’s Final Days

Posted on by Dan Rice

Today the world continues to mourn Jimmy Carter, former U.S. President, Nobel Prize recipient and noted humanitarian, who died yesterday at the age of 100. He leaves behind a legacy of exemplary statesmanship, charity, and goodwill. Police are still trying to piece together the torrid, complicated, high-octane series of events that led to his tragic death when the mega yacht he had stolen exploded, along with an estimated 2.6 billion dollars worth of cocaine. Here’s what we know so far about the final days of former President and legendary underworld anti-hero, Jimmy Carter:

December 24th, 2024

Georgia Home, 7:00 – 9:00 a.m.:
According to family and loved ones, President Carter began the morning of Christmas Eve like any other. He awoke from under a pile of philosophical musings, song lyrics, and erotic poetry he had written the night before, downed two cups of cold brew coffee, and performed a nunchaku kata shirtless in the light of the rising sun.

A niece reported that around 8:00 a.m. he received a phone call from a still unknown associate. The former President listened to the speaker intently, his face growing stern, before replying “You tell Ramirez that this time, it’s personal.” and hanging up. When his niece asked who the caller was, Carter simply smiled and replied “Oh, just a ghost from Christmas past.”

Moments later Carter entered the living room where he stood a while transfixed by the family Christmas tree. After a long contemplation, he announced to the room “You know what this tree is missing? Some trim. Looks like ole’ Jimmy’s goin poon huntin.” His family members rolled their eyes, knowing protesting was pointless. They all knew that when Jimmy had pussy fever, there was only one cure.

Sure enough, moments later, his security detail could be seen scrambling helplessly as Jimmy Carter’s trademark fire-engine-red 1971 Dodge Charger jumped the gate blaring “Slow Ride” by Foghat. The Secret Service would remain one step behind the former President right up until the explosion that claimed his life.

Miami, 11:00 p.m.:
Carter arrives at Breakneck Alley, a notorious hotspot for high-stakes drag racing, sex workers, and drug trafficking, with a convoy of four other souped-up muscle cars all driven by members of his loyal mercenary group known only as “The Family.” A cheering crowd surrounds the convoy. Carter is something of a legend in the world of underground street racing.

Carter steps out of the car, humbly raises a hand to quiet the crowd, and says “I know what a lot of you young bucks are thinking right now — ‘Is today the day I race old man Jimmy out of his pink slips?’ Well if you want a lesson in humility, there will be time for that later, but right now me, and the fam want ourselves a merry little Christmas, and that means we need us some hoe hoe hoes. How many of you sexy ass ladies wanna go skiing with Jimmy Carter?!” He is heard saying “Just move the guns over” as the last woman of the night filed into the back of his car, and the crew speeds off into the bright lights of Miami.

Hours later, the crew throws a party at a Motel-6 the cops know to stay away from. According to the manager, “Carter and the family broke every damn bed we got.”

December 25th, 2024

Fort Myers Beach, 7:00 a.m.:
In the span of 45 minutes and with the assistance of half a dozen call girls, Carter builds 400 homes in a community recently devastated by a hurricane. A helicopter touches down to retrieve them, armed men urgently waving Carter on saying “Move move move, go go go!” Carter gets one foot in the chopper, turns back to the thankful crowd, and tosses a large ring of keys to a 12-year-old boy saying “You’re in charge now little man. Keep the faith.”

The Docks, 11:45 p.m.:
Surveillance footage seems to show a large drug shipment being received by a Bolivian gang. One of the gang members can be heard saying “You know, after this, I might go shoot a kid just for fun!” and everyone laughs, so you know these are really, really bad guys. Suddenly, Carter and his team emerge from the shadows, guns blazing. They are hopelessly outnumbered but if that scares them, they don’t show it. With expert tactics and marksmanship Carter and the family take down gang member after gang member, who as we established are particularly evil so you don’t have to feel bad about it. Eventually, the gang’s leader finds himself surrounded and alone. Carter approaches him, reaches into the pocket of the gang leader’s duster jacket, and retrieves a microchip of some kind.

CARTER: Looks like someone’s been naughty this year.
GANG LEADER: You’re crazy man! Do you have any idea who you’re stealing from?!
CARTER: You go tell your boss he’s next. Go, before I change my mind!

The gang leader scampers off sheepishly. Carter hands the microchip to one of his mercenaries.

CARTER: Get this to Mr. Nobody. Tell him Jimmy says Merry Christmas.
MERCENARY: What do we do with all the coke?
CARTER: Well, I don’t know about you, but I like to snort it.

December 28th, 2024

Paris, 2:00 p.m.:
A security camera catches Carter wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves cut off and a large chain necklace. In one hand he holds a bottle of wine, in the other an NPR tote bag containing a baguette and a single rose. It is unknown how he got there, but he bears the look of a man who has been double-crossed, left for dead, and doesn’t know what comes next.

7:00 p.m.:
Carter gives an impromptu public reading of a book he wrote just hours before. Everyone fortunate enough to have heard it claims it to be his magnum opus. It details his philosophy of humanitarianism, offers a solution to the conflicts in the Middle East that would absolutely work, and ends with a poem on the fertility of red Georgian soil that would make the most money-hungry conservative in the world weep like a child. He then lights his zippo and tosses it atop his manuscript, the only copy. When the crowd of Parisians, tears in their eyes, ask “Why?” Carter replies “Because the time for words is over. Now, it’s time for action.”

December 29th, 2024

Mendoza’s island, 6:00 a.m.:
Little is known about the final showdown between Jimmy Carter and his shadowy arch-nemesis Ramirez, but INTERPOL has been able to confirm a few key details:

  • Ramirez was overseeing child slaves loading his yacht with cocaine, cementing his status as extremely evil.
  • At some point, Carter performed a crazy motorcycle jump.
  • The guy from Carter’s crew who betrayed him to Ramirez turned good again at the very end, sacrificing himself to save Carter. Carter assured his dying friend that they would always be family, and he was dying a hero.
  • Carter coldly wished Ramirez a Happy New Year right before triggering the explosion that killed both men.
  • At the time of the explosion, Carter was fully erect.

It’s easy to despair facing the loss of one the greatest Americans in living history, but we should all try to remember the words of the man himself. “If I die going fast, don’t mourn me, because I died doing what I love.” Jimmy Carter, dead at age 100.

Bombshell Report Claims Tony Hawk Did Not Actually Write the Song “Superman by Goldfinger”

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

LOS ANGELES — A shocking new report by citizen journalist/unemployed man Gary Russo claims that skateboarder Tony Hawk did not actually write “Superman by Goldfinger,” shocked and confused sources confirmed.

“As everyone is well aware, famed skateboarder and Bagel Bites spokesperson Tony Hawk invented both the 900 and wrote the ska-punk classic ‘Superman by Goldfinger’ on the same day, but according to some earth-shattering information, I believe this may all be a lie,” said Russo. “I was able to access the dark web by entering ‘Incognito Mode’ in my browser, then navigating to this underground website, Wikipedia. According to them, ‘Superman by Goldfinger’ was actually written by an obscure ska band called Goldfinger. Tony just stole the song for his video games. Just know, if I’m found dead in the coming months, it was not a suicide.”

When reached for comment, Hawk was flabbergasted by the situation.

“I don’t really get the confusion, honestly. Neversoft came to me with a big list of songs and I just started approving the ones I liked. But somehow that song and I have become so intertwined. It’s not like anyone ever accuses me of writing ‘Jerry was a Race Car Driver,’” said Hawk. “Granted, I have sung the song on stage with the band a bunch of times, and I don’t really go out of my way to correct people when they tell me how much they love it, but I’ve never flat-out said I wrote it.”

Pop culture expert Marna Skeech added that this confusion is not unique to ska and skateboarding video games.

“This sort of thing happens all the time. A song becomes synonymous with a video game or movie or show that most people can no longer separate the two, leading to confusion,” said Skeech. “Consider how when the lead singer of Smash Mouth died, the hashtag #ripshrek was trending, with millions eulogizing the fictional green ogre. It also happens in reverse with a particular sound associated with a particular artist. The way that hearing diarrhea violently spraying against porcelain makes everyone think of Imagine Dragons.”

At press time, John Feldmann of Goldfinger has fired back at Hawk by claiming he invented both the frontside 540-Rodeo Flip, and the Saran Wrap.

Help! I Tried To Disarm Someone With a Smile and Ended Up Getting Stabbed 12 Times

Posted on by Zack Zagranis

Today was definitely not the greatest day I’ve ever known. It started like any other day: the sun was shining, birds were chirping, and all seemed right with the world. The trouble started when I decided to stop at the record store after work to finally replace the beat-up copy of Siamese Dream I’d had since 1993. Little did I know that my routine visit to Bull Moose would turn into a bloodbath.

No sooner had I walked out of the store, brand new record in hand, when a man in a ski mask stopped me and demanded I give him everything I had…or else. At first, I thought it was some TikToker making a prank video, but then he pulled out a switchblade.

The moment I saw that knife, my mind started to race. In 43 years, I had failed to acquire any useful self-defense tips. I looked down at the Smashing Pumpkins album in my hand, and suddenly the answer hit me. Of course, it was so simple! I could disarm my assailant with a smile!

If you told me in the seventh grade that the words of Billy Corgan would someday save my life, I wouldn’t have believed you. Thirty-one years later, as I lay bleeding from 12 stab wounds in a strip mall parking lot, I can confirm they do not.

I don’t know what it was about my smile that the mugger found so offensive, but as soon as I flashed my pearly whites, he began thrusting his blade into my stomach over and over again with savage abandon. All in all, it took him only 20 seconds to turn my abdomen into Swiss cheese and make off with my phone and wallet. He left the record, though, so that’s something, at least.

Thankfully, an old lady coming out of Market Basket saw me lying in a pool of blood and called 911. Now, as I wait for the EMTs to come, I can’t help but wonder how many other grunge legends lied to me. Was Alice in Chains wrong? Did they come to snuff the Rooster? What if Kurt Cobain was fibbing, and it’s actually more dangerous with the lights out? Hell, I bet that Jeremy kid didn’t say shit before he shot himself.

One thing I do know is that when I’m well enough, I plan on suing Billy Corgan. Nothing excessive, just enough cash to cover my medical bills. After all, it was his irresponsible lyrics that got me stabbed 12 times. It’s the least he could do!

Elderly Man Falls for Old “Red Hot Chili Peppers CD Stuffed into a Flaming Bag at Front Door” Gag

Posted on by Chris Bowen

ALBION, N.Y. — Local curmudgeon Hadwin McKlusky fell victim to a vicious prank played by neighborhood kids in which they placed a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD into a bag and set it ablaze on his front porch, annoyed sources report.

“I was trying to have a nice relaxing night commenting ‘Trump for Emperor’ on Facebook posts when I heard my doorbell. I was already pissed I had to put pants on to answer the door, then the ball of fire on my porch really set me off,” McKlusky explained. “I couldn’t let my house burn down, cuz’ I know my lousy kids would put me in a home if it did. So I had no choice but to stomp it out, and what I found was disgusting. Red Hot Chili Peppers? Really? It ruined my slippers and I nearly puked all over my wife’s prized roses from the stench of the burning liner notes. I’d much rather it have been a steaming bean log than that funk-rock horse shit. This generation is fucked.”

Prankster Zach Cardin claims his cantankerous neighbor had it coming.

“Old man McKlusky apparently has an issue with hearing my grindcore band practice at 11:30 p.m. every night, so he really had it coming,” Cardin said. “We knew my buddy Terry’s dad has incredibly shitty taste in music, so we raided his dusty old CD cabinet and found the creme-de-la-crap: ‘Stadium Arcadium.’ Ugh, I get nauseous thinking about the sound that Peppers CD plopping into that bag made, but it was totally worth it. The look of sheer repulsion on his face was priceless.”

Local police chief Officer Ralph Daughtry warns that while humorous, these types of pranks can be very dangerous.

“It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and when it comes to pranks involving awful bands, people get seriously injured,” Officer Daughtry said. “One guy thought it would be funny if he snuck an Aerosmith CD into his friend’s car. He became so irate, he beat his own friend to death with a tire iron to the sounds of ‘Love in an Elevator.’ Another man once signed his buddy up for the Trapt mailing list and barely lived to tell the tale.”

At press time, Cardin taped a piece of paper to McKlusky’s back when he wasn’t looking that simply read “Kick me because I love Dave Matthews Band.”