Crap! Charon the Ferryman Only Takes Crypto Now

Posted on by Ben Friedman

I wish I could see the looks on the faces of everyone who mocked me for believing in Greek mythology right now. They called me mad, out of touch, and possibly insane, but I only see one person here at the River Styx who was hit by a city bus. And the coin I kept under my tongue at all times as fare for Charon the Ferryman is my ticket to escort me down the river to Elysium for an eternal afterlife full of wine and tits. At least, that’s what I thought. 

Apparently, I missed an update to the T&C of the gods, because Charon has ditched the “obol” in favor of going exclusively with being paid in cryptocurrency.

For those of you who slept through history class (or didn’t play God of War), Charon is the intrepid Love Boat captain who ferries souls to the afterlife, and until he so rudely prevented me from boarding, fare only cost a single coin.

Now that I think about it, seeing his grizzled visage adorned in a Patagonia vest should have been a dead giveaway that something was off. It’s well established that Charon is a cranky asshole, but I didn’t have him pegged for an insufferable crypto bro. What insufferable bro chewed his ear off about the blockchain? Fuck, I bet it was Hermes. You can’t be the god of commerce and thievery and not probably start a podcast to rope everyone around you into a crypto ponzi scheme.

And I didn’t appreciate him rolling his eyes at me when I asked if Erebus has one of those crypto ATM’s. Hell, this isn’t even a tangible currency! What was I supposed to do, carry a hard drive full of Doge with me at all times? Gods, spare me from having to hear about Coinbase again.

At this rate, I’m doomed to spend the next 100 years aimlessly wandering the shores of the river with the other souls who didn’t blow their life savings on meme coins. The worst part is seeing all the assholes who can pay the fare tap their damn phones against Charon and floating off into the afterlife. I feel like an idiot.

Whatever, it could be worse. I overheard Sisyphus is no longer pushing a boulder, but is constantly forced to buy Bitcoin at the dip for a spike that’ll never come. Now that’s what I call hell.

Bruce Springsteen Hires Guitarist To Play Anytime He Starts Telling a Story

Posted on by Jeff Bender

PRINCETON, N.J. — Shore-rock legend Bruce Springsteen confirmed rumors Thursday that he’s keeping guitarist Ray Barone on retainer to accompany him anytime he launches into a story, confused sources reported. 

“I guess it’s because I’m old and I don’t want to lug around my Martin D-35 everywhere like I’ve been doing since ‘The River.’ Also I’m wealthy, so I can afford to keep this guy around for whenever that ‘Springsteen silence’ comes on,” said the veteran songwriter. “That’s when I stare into the distance and give my little cue that I’m about to tell the one about crashing my motorcycle or failing my physical for Vietnam or ruing the loss of a particular coffee yogurt I like at Wegmans. Lately these stories have fallen flat a cappella. But now I have Ray.” 

Barone, a retired drivers-ed instructor from Freehold, N.J., now trails Springsteen with a guitar and amp Tuesday through Sunday nights. 

“Initially there was a lot of confusion, and then trial and error. Sometimes I would play anytime Bruce opened his mouth, which had me playing for things like, ‘I’m just running out to T.J. Maxx for their President’s Day sale’ or ‘Who forgot to change the toilet paper?’ And then there was the time I made the mistake of playing acoustic during an argument he had with his manager Jon Landau. Bruce later advised he wants me to go electric in those moments.” 

While the accompaniment adds a boost to increasingly weary or long-winded stories, not everyone is supportive of the addition—least of all Patti Scialfa, the Boss’s wife of 34 years. 

“It’s so, so irritating. I keep telling him we don’t need Ray around all the time. Like the other night we were lying in bed and Bruce was recounting our first trip to the Irish coast. Out of nowhere I hear a G chord, then a D, and then suddenly, Ray is rising up from beside the bed—on my side. I was like, ‘Seriously?’ We ended up watching ‘My Cousin Vinny’ with Ray, just in case Bruce wanted to pause it and tell a story. But Bruce fell asleep, so Ray and I ended up watching it. Ray liked it quite a bit—but that’s not the point!” 

At press time, Springsteen was auditioning saxophonists to solo during moments he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Worst Person You Know Discovers Phrase ‘Living My Truth’

Posted on by Samuel Abraham

SAN FRANCISCO — The absolute worst person you know has unfortunately happened upon the phrase “living my truth” and is currently on a rampage throughout the region justifying every single thought and action by weaponizing the aforementioned buzz phrase common in misappropriated therapy jargon, confirmed sources.

“Look, I am all in favor of people living authentically, whatever that means,” you said. “Expressing yourself is important, but this person has been nothing but rude since we started working together, and now they just blurt out insane thoughts at meetings and speak in sentences that sound like the worst advice you’ve ever seen on some random dipshits Instagram. Also, they yelled at the person who delivered the office lunch the other day because ‘hunger was guiding their emotional wellbeing’ or some shit? Unreal.”

When asked about their alleged sociopathic tendencies since learning of the phrase, the worst person you know was quick to respond.

“First of all, your accusation isn’t in alignment with me, okay? It makes me feel dysregulated and that’s literally violence. Second of all, I didn’t hear that from therapy because therapy is for pussies and also backed by big pharma. Also, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to about me, but I’m going to find out and then I’m gonna slash their tires because anyone with anything negative to say about me is trying to use their toxicity to dull my shine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an entrepreneur’s conference to attend.”

Former clinical psychologist Amanda Ruthkin has had just about enough of these types of phrases. 

“Regrettably, this is all too common behavior,” said Ruthkin. “I actually had to quit my job over this garbage because it’s become very fashionable to not do any meaningful inner work at all, grab the nearest distilled nonsense that already agrees with your terrible personality but is phrased in a way that sounds like growth, and then just use it to become an even shittier person while simultaneously thinking that you’re an enlightened being. I’m not surprised at all to learn that the worst person I know is up to this behavior.”  

At press time, the worst person you know was seen adding “empath” to their Instagram bio.

Devastating: Friend Doesn’t Care if You Pause Movie You Chose While They Go to the Bathroom or Not

Posted on by Mike Moran

Is there anything more catastrophic than introducing a friend to a piece of media you love and assume they will love too, only to see them react with indifference, or worse yet, visible disgust? No, there is not. And I’ve lived through two divorces, three bankruptcies, AND “super hero fatigue.”

So you can imagine my dismay when I insisted on sharing with my friend, Jeff 1998’s Meet Joe Black, a movie that inspired me to pursue my dream of managing a Linens N’ Things, only for him to react as if I had asked him to sit through an Andy Warhol movie titled, “Kleenex” or something.

I mean, this movie stars Brad Pitt, not Bud Dwyer. 

I first suspected something was amiss when I glanced over to get his reaction to my favorite part, only to see him as stone-faced as if we were watching a documentary about where our food comes from. 

I knew things were really bad when I heard the faint, tell-tale, tapping on a silenced smartphone, tucked strategically just out of my sight behind the armrest, his eyes barely darting back to the screen every 40 seconds or so. 

“Maybe it’s not so bad,” I told myself, “maybe a family member just died, and he HAS to check his phone.” Sadly, this was not the case.

I knew all hope was lost when Jeff had to use the restroom. He didn’t even wait for me to finish asking before explaining that I didn’t need to pause the film. I told him I didn’t mind at all, in fact, I needed to check my emails anyway, and this is a really important part coming up. He merely responded with “Nah, it’s fine.” 

Thankfully, Jeff must have done a duecer as this gave me enough time to mentally weigh the long-term ramifications of a murder-suicide, and decide against.  

Instead, I just got honest, and we had a deep conversation. After several hours and the employment of multiple emotional-manipulation techniques learned from an alcoholic family upbringing, Jeff finally saw the error of his ways and agreed to stop denying to himself the indisputable fact of Meet Joe Black being the “A1 Bold n’ Spicy” of cinema. He sat attentively through the rest of the film, and I can’t wait to enlighten him on “Cocoon” next. Though weirdly, he doesn’t seem to be getting phone calls and texts…

38-Year-Old Punk Excited To Check Out This Band ‘Perimenopause’ That’s Been All Over Her Algorithm

Posted on by Arielle Andreano

LOS ANGELES — Local 38-year-old punk Nicole Crane is very excited to check out the supposed new band Perimenopause that’s been all over her social media timelines, confirmed sources.

“I always like to keep up with hip, new happenings in the punk world, and it’s really nice to know that my algorithm reflects that about me,” shared Crane. “For the past few weeks, I’ve seen Perimenopause all over all my social media timelines. With a name like that, I know it’s got to be a really sick band. They even have interesting song titles too. Can’t wait to check out their tracks ‘Night Sweats,’ ‘Decreased Libido,’ and ‘Mood Swings’ on their debut album called ‘Menstrual Changes.’ Finally, a band that speaks to how I’ve been feeling lately.”

Chainsmoking Babies, a veteran punk band in the scene, shed some more light on this heavily trending topic.

“There’s no punk band with that name. That lady is definitely seeing that in her timeline because her algo knows she’s getting up there,” shared Chainsmoking Babies frontwoman, Betty Black Lung. “The phenomenon known as perimenopause can begin as early as 35, so it’s important to check with your doctor if you experience any symptoms such as fatigue, thinning hair, and vaginal pain. But this lady should know she can still rock out even if she needs a prescription cream for her coochie pain.”

Psychologist Nicole Sender shared insights from her research on the emerging topic of aging Millennials.

“There’s a concerning phenomenon that seems to occur as the Millennial ages, which is that they seem to think they are much younger than they are. We think it might be due to the fact that they grew up with the advent of trendy technology such as social media and continue to be infantilized by the rest of the world,” said Sender. “Whatever the case may be, they’re on the verge of death since they think they’re too young to need medication. The cruel irony is that they’re too old for these health issues to land them in the 27 Club. But don’t tell them I said that.”

At press time, Crane felt vindicated after discovering a band out of Waukesha, Wisconsin, called Peri Men o’Pause and their single “I’m Growing a Beard and I Don’t Feel Like Fuckin’” has 234 plays on SoundCloud.

CDC Announces: This Cold and Flu Season, ‘Trust No One’

Posted on by Nick Brandt

ATLANTA — The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced that this cold and flu season, the general public should “trust no one,” bewildered sources confirm.

“It’s time for a new approach to public safety,” said Jay Bhattacharya, acting director of the CDC. “I’ve been in charge of germs for over 30 days so I know a thing or two about public health economics. Public trust in the agency is at an all-time low, and I plan to take advantage of that bear market. Mask mandates, Lysol wipes, it’s all too late for that. Any doubts you feel towards the CDC should be multiplied tenfold and directed towards your family and loved ones, your neighbors and friends. I repeat, trust no one. Watch your back this flu season.”

Local 311 operators reported that multiple callers have reached out to non-emergency services for help in these troubling times.

“I like to think I’m an informed voter,” said Marc Huffton, concerned citizen. “I read the news on my phone when I’m constipated and make sure to avoid anything about the Arab situation, doctor’s orders, but I just don’t know who to trust anymore. On the one hand you have experts saying that fluids and rest and pre-emptive inoculations help curb the spread of influenza, but then on the other hand you have experts saying that vaccines nourish the devil in the hearts of man. Everyone is such an extremist now. What happened to the normal, sensible people?”

Infectious disease expert and heirloom public servant Robert F. Kennedy Jr. offered his candid expertise.

“My fellow Americans, the CDC has been infiltrated by the enemy,” said Kennedy. “Do not let them hoodwink you with their elaborate mumbo jumbo. Remember Fauci, that scam artist? I punched him in the ribs. The only medicine a man needs is three fingers of corn whiskey and medium rare chuck eye. Anyone who thinks otherwise better say their pinko prayers. Feeling a little tight in the chest, soyboy? Want a salad? Get yourself a rowing machine and build it inside a sauna. Remember, semen retention is key. No chicks allowed.”

At press time, the CDC announced that if you develop flu-like symptoms this season, you should hunt down the person who infected you, murder them cold-bloodedly in the street, and drink plenty of fluids.

I’ll Be the Judge of That! Waiter Thinks Plate Is Really Hot

Posted on by Kyle Donley

“Oh God, please let this be our food!”

A cavalcade of 19-year-old boys shoot out of the kitchen area that I thought was the men’s room earlier, balancing trays in a synchronised speedwalk. Are those my enchiladas?  They certainly look like my enchiladas. 

“Guys, the food is–” I say to my family, preparing them.

I neatly stack our dirty appetiser plates atop what’s left of the sampler platter and scoot them towards the edge of the table, being helpful as shit. I’ve shockingly never actually been a waiter before, but I’ve eaten at a lot of restaurants and seem to have the intuitive instincts that most waiters, the astute ones anyhow, often appreciate in various degrees of furtive acknowledgement.

“Sir, be careful, this plate is really hot.” 

I size the guy up with jocular curiosity, making the business decision not to say anything, only due to the lack of jocular curiosity on the rest of my family members’ faces. Can you fucking believe this guy, though? Like, yeah, ok, maybe in the pink doughy hands of a teenage virgin the plate needs to be held with a fabric napkin, but I’m pretty sure my fully-formed adult hands can handle the plate of enchiladas that I fucking paid for! 

Hmm, no one else’s plate appears to be too hot to touch, so I guess he’s making this personal. It just kind of seems like a weird flex from somebody who presumably wants a tip. I guess he can touch the plate because he’s a “professional”. What a hero, this guy, warning idiotic patrons like myself not to get too handsy with the porcelain. I was planning on eating these enchiladas pie-eating contest style before this good samaritan came along to tell me not to get too close to the plate they brought out to me, which just so happens to have my dinner on it.

My family’s already started eating, expecting me to forget all about this and just “follow orders”.   

But I have to touch the plate now because this bozo biffed the landing. The plate placement is all fucked up. He rushed it because his little fingies were getting too warm, and now it’s practically in the middle of the table. But don’t worry, I’ll fix it. 

OH MY FUCK, are they trying to kill me!? You can’t bring out plates this hot! What the hell is wrong with this kid?

Stupid Piece of Shit Band Only Able To Muster One Global Chart-Topping Hit

Posted on by Doug Kolic

TAMPA, Fla. — Local piece of shit band The Fallen Embers were unabashedly ashamed after only ever creating one global chart-topping hit that brought joy to millions, according to ex-fans who wished them dead.

“I never thought people would turn on us just because we couldn’t catch lightning in a bottle a second time,” lamented lead singer Beckett Tucker. “We were thrilled last year when our old high school invited us back to dedicate the music room in our name, until we realized it was just a setup to ambush us and tell us how embarrassed they were to be associated with our band. Sure, maybe I get why they wouldn’t want to be linked to a one‑hit wonder, but bringing in a priest to conduct an exorcism to cleanse the school of our ‘evil’ presence felt a little excessive.”

Longtime fan of the band Katie Perez explained how stupid she felt supporting them.

“Man, their song ‘Lovesick Mojito’ was basically the anthem of my life! It was the song I lost my virginity to, my wedding song, and even the tune I chose at our Pop-Pop’s funeral,” said the inconsolable Perez. “But it’s been over 15 years and they haven’t even been close to producing anything else as impactful as that. Everyone knows I was their biggest fan so now I look like a total loser. If I had the power to go back in time for any reason, I’d let baby Hitler live and take out those motherfuckers instead.”

Music expert John Finkelstein described that for many bands having a huge hit is a double-edged sword.

“It’s a bit of a poisoned chalice,” Finkelstein articulated. “Producing a hit song that crosses genres and borders can be financially lucrative, but the pressure to recreate that success can be too much of a burden for many bands to bear. That’s why so many of them actually consciously try to create songs that will never be considered great, so that they don’t have to deal with the pressure of following up a classic. At least that’s what I’m assuming the case is with groups like Imagine Dragons.”

At press time, there was a growing public movement to also call out one-hit wonders in other industries, like Alexander Fleming for peaking with penicillin, and Neil Armstrong for doing jack shit after walking on the moon.

This Is Not a Time for Jokes — Guest Post by Chuck Norris

Posted on by Dan Rice

Hello internet. This is martial artist Chuck Norris. You know me from films such as The Delta Force, Invasion USA, and my recent demise. Many of you have expressed sorrow over my passing and have had kind words to say about my career and overall cultural impact, and for that, I thank you. But apparently, some of you internet yahoos are taking my death as an opportunity to crack wise, and I don’t much appreciate it. 

It’s not that I don’t enjoy comedy. When I was on the set of Missing in Action 2: The Beginning, a grip hit me with “Take my wife, please!” and I laughed so hard a mountain fell down. But comedy has its time and place. I just think that my death is a somber occasion, and that humor at this particular time would be inappropriate. And if you disagree, you and I are gonna have some words. Some fist words. 

Comments like “Death better watch its back,” “Chuck decided to give God a piece of his mind,” and “Chuck Norris does not die, he merely waits” are simply not in good taste at this time. To quote a great man, you have the right to remain silent, so shut the hell up! That man was me in the 1985 picture Code of Silence. 

Death is a very serious matter, and I really must insist that the proper decorum is observed. If it’s not, so help me, I will get right up off this slab and start mopping the floor with you clowns. To anyone who thinks this is the right time to bust out your favorite Chuck Norris joke, I’ll tell you the same thing I told that mortician who tried to put make-up on me — stand down, or get knocked down. 

Here’s how this is gonna go down: I’m gonna lie in this here casket, and you are going to mourn. You will be sad, you will be somber, and you will be respectful. Any deviation from this will result in an immediate roundhouse kick to the face. 

You think I’m messing around? Go ahead, test me. Hit send on that ‘Walker told me, I have AIDS’ gif. See what happens. Give me a god damn reason, punk.

Oh, You’re an As I Lay Dying Fan? Name Three Anabolic Steroids

Posted on by S.L. Neechski

Hey, you with the As I Lay Dying t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and swelled-up ankles. You’re a metalcore fan, huh? Well, true fans of AILD know their best songs are the ones with only Tim screaming, like “94 Hours” and “Bury Us All.” That clean vocal shit is for pussies, bruh! Real metal doesn’t have singing! You can’t ego-lift and performatively grunt at the gym with some cringe melody in your ear.

Anyhow, if you’re such a fan of AILD, then name three anabolic steroids. Go ahead. I’ll wait while you go to the bathroom to find an injection site in your ass cheek. No judgment, by the way. Look, I get what it’s like to suffer from the horrors of muscle dysmorphia. Horrors like looking at your reflection in the mirror and seeing oily, acne-riddled skin and wondering if it’s all worth it. It is, and you know that because your disturbingly vascular arms in that cut-off shirt scream, “Yes!” every time.

So, how about naming those three anabolic steroids for me while I flex for ya.

Testosterone enanthate? I guess that’s technically a steroid, but you’ll never get swole as fuck using that alone. If you’re not taking real gear, how are you gonna change into a perpetually abusive roid-rage psycho that flips tables and punches walls at the slightest inconvenience?

Dianabol? Hmm. You know D-Bol is an oral steroid, right? If you don’t use a needle for your gear, it’s soyboy shit, bruh! There’s no danger of stabbing yourself with D-Bol. Part of the appeal of roids is struggling to steady your shaky hand while you try to shoot up. If you’re lookin’ to damage your liver orally, alcohol abuse is a cheaper and easier option, anyway.

Testosterone cypionate? Now there we go. It’s only for men, so ya know that’s the true shit. Only a real man would risk the chance of having a blood-clotting issue just to get his pump on to hit that PR. Real lifters — real men — risk their lives over important stuff like getting peeled and ripped. Getting mirin’ from other serious lifters is all that matters, brosef.

Hey, since we’re talking steroids, do ya got any of those single-use syringes left?