Thanksgiving Miracle: When No One in This Punk House Knew How to Cook a Turkey, They Just Got Fucked Up Instead

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

The holidays are a difficult time for many people, but especially for losers who no one loves or even thinks about. For a lot of people, making a whole Thanksgiving spread is a stressful and difficult experience and if you’re a member of a punk house with three overdue gas bills stuffed under a couch cushion, it can feel downright impossible.

But fortunately for our hope for the human race, a Thanksgiving miracle has occurred! When the members of Squirrel Gut Ripper, a Chicago landmark of griminess and unpleasant roommate interactions, realized no one in the house knew how to cook a turkey, they all just decided to get fucked up together.

Wow. We may live in a new dark age, but it’s good to know that even in uncertain times, people of the same subculture can get together, fail to do a communal activity, engage in some passive-aggression, and get falling-down drunk off Olde English 800.

According to sources with more stable living environments, the various members of Squirrel Gut Ripper, many of whom look vaguely familiar to each other, all assumed that someone else in the house would know how to prepare a roast turkey from scratch and could contribute some kind of holiday nostalgia for the house. Tough luck, shitheads! It turns out that none of you even know where to actually buy a turkey, let alone turn an oven on.

However, when times got hard, the denizens of Squirrel Gut Ripper didn’t turn their backs on the spirt of Thanksgiving, except for Dandruff Dan, who’s a fucking dick anyway. Instead, they argued about whose job it was to clean the three-week-old dishes in the sink and cracked a case of 8 Ball so they could blunt the stench of the rancid squalor they live in long enough to have some kind of communal feeling!

It really makes you think.

And we admit that it wasn’t all that miraculous that Jeff and Holly Molly got in a fight after he suggested that they could maybe find some potatoes to mash or something and sort of implied that she could cook for the house, but we’re just going to ignore that for now, which is usually what everyone does with Jeff anyway.

But just as the Pilgrims and Native Americans could get together for the first Thanksgiving and not commit genocide for a single Thursday afternoon, Squirrel Gut Ripper managed to pull off a holiday feat and get everyone tanked enough that they passed out before anyone could get sad about how much they miss actually having a family that cared about them.

And if that’s not the true spirit of Thanksgiving, what is?

Jigsaw Horrified After Thanksgiving Guests Devour Turducken He Prepared to Punish Their Gluttony

Posted on by Matt Husser

HORNERSTOWN, N.J. — Serial killer and torture pioneer Jigsaw was reportedly left horrified today after his unwilling Thanksgiving guests quickly devoured a massive turducken he had prepared to punish their gluttony, police sources confirmed.

“You have used the tainted holiday of Thanksgiving to excuse your gluttonous behavior while others starve with nothing. Your insatiable greed has led you here, and to survive, you must devour your way to salvation. But if you fail, you’ll be torn in two like a wishbone, spilling your sins over the—hey, what the fuck, how did they already eat the entire turducken?” said a disgusted Jigsaw, wearing a pilgrim hat while watching the ravenous display on a CCTV monitor. “It took me two days to prepare that massive thing, and they already stuffed their fat faces with it before I even finished my speech. Jesus Christ, I put a shitload of razor blades in there and it didn’t even slow them down!”

Thanksgiving hostage Bill Myers recounted his terrifying tale of survival from Jigsaw’s latest devious trap.

“I’m just so grateful to be out of there, that was the most excruciating experience of my life—I mean what kind of psychopath only serves three kinds of pie at Thanksgiving? And one of them was mincemeat, that sick fuck,” said Myers, picking his teeth with a dirty syringe. “Not to mention the turducken was dry and he put raisins in the stuffing. I guess if his elaborate torture scheme was to starve us with a subpar spread then mission accomplished. At least that other guy had a hacksaw, I wish I could have sawed my foot off and escaped to get a couple of buckets of chicken at KFC.”

After freeing the hostages from their Thanksgiving trap, Detective Paul Briggs found himself snared in a Christmas-themed torture game despite it honestly being a little too early to celebrate the festive season.

“Oh come on, Jigsaw. It’s not even December yet, you couldn’t wait another week to break out the Christmas-themed torture traps?” asked Detective Briggs, reading a task commanding him to untangle a mess of Christmas lights strung together on razor wire with his bare hands. “You have an entire month to dip people in boiling vats of egg nog or shove sharpened candy canes in their eyes. Can’t you at least wait until we’ve digested Thanksgiving dinner before you guilt trip us about not visiting our families for the holidays or whatever preachy shit this game is all about? Honestly, I get less of a guilt trip from the Salvation Army Santa outside Target.”

At press time, Jigsaw was scouring the city trying to find victims for his New Year’s Eve-themed trap that hadn’t already blown all their fingers off in fireworks accidents.

Jaguar Rebrands to Appeal to Young, Gender-Fluid Drivers Who Refuse to Use Turn Signals

Posted on by Ben Friedman

Luxury car manufacturer Jaguar unveiled a new look in hopes of expanding their appeal to the tiny percentage of people who identify as gender-fluid Gen Z drivers who recklessly change lanes without looking, confirmed executives.

“This is the new Jaguar. These cars are no longer just for recently divorced investment bankers having a mid-life crisis, they are also for rich children who hate their parents for being fascists but have no problem taking all their money,” Jaguar Land Rover managing director Rawdon Glover. “We spent years doing market research and found that both Gen Z and our typical clientele had one thing in common: a predilection for reckless and unannounced lane changing. All we had to do was change the logo and put androgynous 20-somethings in pastels to drive that ‘main character energy’ into about sales.”

At press time, luxury brand Aston Martin caused more confusion in the market when they released a 16-minute promo video of their latest campaign which featured adults dressed as babies soiling themselves with the tagline “Get Wet.”

As I Lay Dying Frontman Livid After Hitman Doesn’t Honor Buy One, Get One Free Promotion

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

OCEANSIDE, Calif. — As I Lay Dying frontman, and convicted felon, Tim Lambesis was caught on a home video having a meltdown after realizing the hitman he tried to hire in 2013 to murder his wife would not honor the buy one, get one free deal as advertised, worried sources confirmed.

“This is absolute crap. I’m going to report this piece of garbage to the Better Business Bureau and then he’s going to be bankrupt,” said Lambesis while pounding his feet. “It’s a sad state of affairs when you can’t trust the people you hire to kill the woman you married. This isn’t the America I once loved, I feel like I need to move to a country where men can kill their wives with no repercussions.”

At press time, Lambesis was leaving a scathing review of the hit man on Yelp.

Costco Rotisserie Chicken Replaces Bald Eagle as America’s National Bird

Posted on by Mike Maher

WASHINGTON — America’s longstanding symbol of freedom, the bald eagle, was replaced by the Costco rotisserie chicken as the official national bird, after a swift and unanimous bipartisan vote, salivating sources on Capitol Hill confirmed.

“Republicans and Democrats reached across the aisle to get this historic bill passed and grab a second helping,” Speaker of the House Mike Johnson said, deboning a drumstick. “Effective immediately, images of the Costco rotisserie chicken will replace the bald eagle on everything, everywhere, across America. This includes our great seal, government letterhead, quarters, Desert Storm t-shirts, and Air Force One, the plane and the film. I already covered up my bald eagle tramp stamp with a sweet rotisserie chicken backpiece, and even the greatest rock band of all time, The Eagles, have agreed to change their name. Well, everyone except that libtard Joe Walsh.”

Lifelong Costco shopper and retired bus driver Denise Jacaruso was emotionally overcome by the news.

“Hand to heart, I’ve never been prouder to be a card-carrying Costco member, or an American,” Jacaruso pledged. “What’s the big to-do about eagles anyway? They taste terrible! The rotisserie chicken, on the other hand, feeds my family of 11 multiple times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. All for the inflation-proof price of $4.99. I even reuse the thermal ziplock bag it comes in as my daily tote. Not only is the Costco rotisserie chicken edible, it’s sustainable, and now, salutable!”

Tanya Erb, Director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, applauds the decision but has concerns.

“Listen, we’ve been kicking ass on the eagle’s behalf for long enough,” Erb said. “Countless man hours and taxpayer dollars were wasted saving those ungrateful shitbirds from extinction when honestly, they deserved to die off. Why? They’re apex assholes. Aggressive. Hate humans. And yeah I’ll say it…they ugly. But the Costco rotisserie chicken? That is one sexy bird. I’d give my left tit for a thigh right now. But protecting them is a whole different animal. They’re sitting ducks under those heat lamps, and Costco shoppers are absolute vultures. So I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure this isn’t the chicken’s swansong, or else my goose is cooked!”

At press time, the White House also revealed plans to make the American flag a scannable QR code, good for one dollar off at any KFC purchase, but restrictions and exclusions may apply.

Crap! I Only Had a Baby for Social Media Clout and Now I Have to Actually Teach It Stuff

Posted on by Ben Friedman

The best day of my life, after me and my wife’s lifestyle brand account hit 500,000 followers, was the birth of my son Brayden. Becoming a father is a life-altering experience, especially when you have to incorporate it into your brand. Chronicling my son’s discovery of the world around him on social media has been so rewarding, both spiritually and monetarily.

One thing I wasn’t prepared for was how I blinked and suddenly little Brayden is now four years old and I found myself saying “Oh fucking crap, I actually have to teach him how to do stuff.”

Having a kid seemed like a good idea at the time! We were like fuck it, nobody is engaging with our vacation photos so let’s pop out a kid, inform our followers that “So, we did a thing…” and then tell everyone our way of parenting is superior. You could only imagine how blindsided we were when he began to grasp object permanence and tried to stick a fork in a wall outlet.

Worse is that he actually shit in the training potty I was going to return after I filmed its unboxing video. Is this like an everyday thing, or can I just teach him to go free-range and poop in the backyard like the dog? Their turds are about the same size anyway.

He’s asking so many goddamn questions and it’s always when my wife is filming a “get ready with me” video. And I have to explain that no, Mommy doesn’t know how planes fly or why the sky is blue because she’s trying to rack up enough views to pay for our next trip. I tried taking him to the children’s science museum but they kicked us out because I was “filming kids without consent.”

OK, don’t panic. This is why Apple invented iPads. I just throw on some weird Russian families playing with toys and I can buy a few hours a day of shoring up our SEO. What are the chances he’ll stumble down a rabbit hole of right-wing propaganda, 60%? I’ll take those odds.

I wasn’t prepared for the fact that my sole responsibility as a parent is to raise a child to be a functioning member of society. Thankfully, there are other parenting social media accounts to do that for me! I guess it’s true that it takes a village to raise a child or in this case TikTok.

How to Create an Airtight Excuse to Miss Thanksgiving by Getting Attacked by the TSA Dogs

Posted on by Arielle Andreano

So, you don’t want to fly home for Thanksgiving but need to avoid the Greek tragedy level guilt trip you’ll receive from your mother if you simply decline. Maybe you’re scared you’ll flip the cranberry sauce and stuffing if talks become political, or maybe you’re just staying away from run-of-the-mill toxic family dynamics. If you’ve said “I’d rather get my ass bit by a Labrador in a vest than get on a plane for that shit,” we’ve got the guide for you. Here is our foolproof way to get attacked by the TSA dogs.

Ideally, you’ll just want to get a little nibble caused by a clear misunderstanding. This will give you all the evidence required without adding to your criminal record. For this, you’ll want to line your pants with cured meats. If you get lucky, this will be enough and a newbie dog will bite your tasty legs right then and there. You have to remember these are highly-trained dogs, so you might not be able to get it to notice your meat trap right away. There is a simple fix for that. Simply walk up to the TSA agent with the dog, tell them “You look exactly like a guy I went to school with who got accused of setting a Taco Bell on fire,” and while the agent is distracted you shove your meaty thigh violently in the dogs face, the dog won’t be able to resist.

If you’re serious about not being called a commie while eating a meal celebrating colonization, you’re going to need backups. Next, you’re going to want to act erratic. Babble, yell at some people, threaten to take your dick out, actually take your dick out. This will cause TSA to come over. These are not attack dogs, so you will need to subtly provoke the dog into attacking you. Your best bet? Start violently jerking around and reaching for the dogs genitals, it will instinctively latch onto your arm, and after being treated by an airport EMT and a standard detention process you will be released and free to go home to watch Netflix by yourself.

But even this may not be enough for the most well-trained canine. This is where you break out the airport security sign bingo card. You know the one. The dogs are trained to smell all these items. I’ve found a combo of 3 is the sweet spot. You could go weed, gun, lighter. Maybe biohazards, gasoline, knife. Poison, matches, bomb is a personal favorite. Don’t be afraid to get creative. There’s no reason you can’t have a little fun with it. Don’t worry, though. You will get bit.

Just remember, a little blood and some torn muscles are worth it. You’ll be spending your Thanksgiving thanking me in no time. Happy Holidays.

Viagra Boys Rushed to Hospital After Set Persists for More Than 4 Hours

Posted on by Shane Pauker

SAN FRANCISCO — Swedish crankwave band Viagra Boys were rushed to Zuckerberg General Hospital after their latest performance exceeded four hours in length, confirmed concerned sources.

“Their set went way longer than normal,” diehard fan Mike Danby noticed while attending the concert. “They usually don’t last very long — maybe 20 minutes if you’re lucky, a little longer if you focus on enjoying the opener — so I knew something was wrong right away. They were in the middle of a 35-minute extended version of ‘Sports,’ and the paramedics showed up just as the band finished listing the full roster of the ‘95 Bulls. Nobody really explained what happened, but I figure it must have been pretty painful to go for hours on end like that.”

Band members report they’ve made a full recovery from the incident.

“You see it happen to older acts, the Stones and the like; you just never think it’ll happen to you,” singer Sebastian Murphy acknowledged. “I can speak on behalf of the whole band when I thank the staff at Zuckerberg General. Your slow, bureaucratic care has gotten us just healthy enough to smoke four packs a day again and has inspired an album’s worth of new lyrics. Doctors have always warned us to seek medical attention if our set lasts more than four hours. But hey, at least the audience was left satisfied.”

Cardiologist Dr. Emmanuel Zorkin sees Viagra Boys’ prolonged setlist as a cautionary tale for aging musicians everywhere.

“I’ve seen painful, artificially extended sets from plenty of older punks trying to prove they’re still macho enough to not be posers,” Dr. Zorkin explained. “Every once-young punk thinks they’re invincible until they start struggling to perform. Just because you could crankwave every day in your room for hours on end as a teenager doesn’t mean you can still do that — and that’s okay. You can talk to your doctor about specific ways to healthily improve your scene cred as you get older, but the key word is moderation. If crankwave is important to you, try limiting yourself to only one Viagra Boys, Fontaines DC, or IDLES album per day.”

At press time, Dr. Zorkin was seen overprescribing Morphine’s “Cure for Pain” to otherwise healthy patients.

Overloaded Power Strip Venue’s Only Source of Heat

Posted on by Rob Ryder

BALTIMORE — Local venue the Rusty Nut is reported to be heated by a single eight-outlet power strip, confirmed several sources with burn marks on their hands.

“After we opened the venue the first few shows were great, but when colder weather arrived the crowds started to dip,” said Terry Morgan, sound man for the Rusty Nut. “But then this metal band played a show and they had seven full stack amps and like 30 pedals to power up. I grabbed this old power strip we found in a dumpster and just plugged everything in. During sound check we noticed the temperature went up about 25 degrees in a few minutes, by show time, it was a balmy 83 degrees. If only there was a way to get his strip to act like an air conditioner in the summer. Our HVAC fan is our only source of cooling in July.”

Venue manager Greg Pullman said the creative wiring in the venue was all his own design.

“The building had several issues when we moved in, obviously this fixed the heating problem, but also helped with a stage wiring issue,” said Pullman while using a drumstick to jam a circuit breaker in the on position. “The stage only has one plug, so a power strip was needed to handle the amps and accessories. Fortunately that one plug is rated at 15 amps, and we’ve only ever plugged seven into it. After that, it’s just about finding the right balance where the power strip gets hot, but doesn’t completely set the stage, bar, and audience members ablaze. I can definitely find that balance, as long as Terry doesn’t try to make a fucking hot pocket right before showtime.”

Electrical Inspector Dwayne Cleery evaluated the venue during the permitting process, but felt there wasn’t much he could do.

“Where to fucking start, I approved the permit because they promised to do some upgrades, but that whole building should be torn down right away,” said Cleery while ripping up any evidence of his involvement in the building inspection. “That place is definitely going to burn down from something, but it’s such a goddamn mess it’ll be hard for the fire marshall to pinpoint what actually started the fire. If I had to venture a guess, that soda gun leaking directly onto exposed wires behind the bar will probably do it.”

At press time, staff at the Rusty Nut were trying to find a way to create a water heater with another power strip.

Where Are They Now? Those Bouncers That Told Me I Was Too Drunk To Come In but I Ran Past Them Anyway

Posted on by Doug Kolic

Life can go by in the blink of an eye. One moment you’re rolling up to the bar with your crew, boasting about all the Jameson you drank while pretending to WFH, and the next you’re being placed in a chokehold and barred from going inside by a bunch of fascists who say you’re “out of control”.

That’s what happened to me recently when a few bouncers from “The Drunk Skunk” decided to redirect their unhappy childhood rage onto me, just because of my incoherent and belligerent state. Luckily for me, I don’t take the word “no” for an answer and was able to get past their blockade after distracting them with a well-timed faux epileptic fit that I’m famous for.

So now that I’m hiding in this bathroom stall until the coast is clear, let’s take a look back and ask: where are these goons now?

Bouncer Who Looked Like Vin Diesel
He was the first to suspect that I might have had a wee bit too much to drink after he caught me pounding back cans of hard cider outside. He had a great sense of humor too, asking me how I “liked them apples” as he socked me in the breadbasket after I playfully asked him how his wife felt being married to a limp-dick loser. Looks like he’s headed outside, I’m clear.

Bouncer with Ponytail
This guy was alright. He eventually convinced the other guys that maybe I was having a real seizure and that they needed to stop wailing on me and call an ambulance, which was the opportunity I needed to run the fuck past them. Thanks for the compassion, sucker! He’s nowhere near the bar so I think I’m okay for a refill.

Brother of Bouncer with Ponytail
This guy was pretty forgettable other than being the younger brother of Ponytail guy, something I overheard them mention as I relieved myself by the front entrance. To be honest, I don’t really care where he is today. There’s only one thing I hate more than bouncers, and that’s nepo baby bouncers. Plus, I’m pretty sure his fists did the most damage to my face.

Cop Looking for Me in this Bathroom
Where is this guy now? Seriously, I need to know. He just came in a few minutes ago twirling his baton with bad intentions. If you know where he is, can you please just whisper it through the gap of this stall so I can make another run for it?