Opinion: Oh, Cool, She Was Serious About the Witchcraft Stuff

Posted on by Dan Rice

I’m at an age now where it’s time to get serious about finding a long-term partner. I won’t tell you what that age is, because frankly, I don’t like thinking about it, but there comes a point in every adult’s life where it’s time to delete Feeld and download Hinge (but also keep Feeld and get Tinder for good measure because you still like sex.) Well, after a few months of conversations that went nowhere and a small handful of awkward coffee dates, I finally met someone who checks my boxes! Audra is a smart, funny, age-appropriate woman who doesn’t want kids. We have a ton of common interests, and initially, I loved her whole spooky-witch-girl vibe. Well, turns out, it was more than just a vibe. 

It has become clear that my now girlfriend Audra is, in fact, a “practicing witch” and an earnest believer in astrology, the Pagan Rites, and various occult traditions. And that’s, you know, it’s fine. Cool. I think it’s cool. 

Yeah, it’s like, I’ll ask if she wants to go out to something sometimes, and she’ll be like, “Hang on, I have to check the moon.” It’s kinda cute! You know, and then she’ll like, actually check the moon, and sometimes the moon will actually be bad, and we actually won’t go out. And that’s a decision, in my life now, that the moon makes, and it’s, you know, hey, whatever! 

40, by the way. I’m 40. So, you know, Crunch time. 

Look, all religions are pretty weird when you look at them from the outside, right? And it’s not like she’s trying to convert me! I mean, she did pretty much force me to do a star chart. And some tea ceremonies. And she took me to a candle shop and introduced me to a 68-year-old diabetic named Draven, who she warned me was “very powerful.” But outside of that, she’s not pushy! She can be pushy. Actually. 

Hey, it’s not like I’m afraid she’s going to turn me into a toad or something! I suppose I am a little bit afraid that she’s going to explain how witches don’t really turn people into toads, and that such representations are “really hurtful,” to like, say, my boss or something, but whatever. 

She’s beautiful, she has a great sense of humor, and as long as I steer the conversation away from the stars, wind, or herbs, we have great conversations! So what if she really, really means it when she complains about Mercury being in retrograde? It’s not that annoying! It is, kind of annoying! It’s annoying. 

Okay, I’m in a spot here. I think it might be time for an ultimatum. If she doesn’t let me bring her down to the learning center, get her on the e-meter, and start battling those thatens, I think we might be done. 

Ken Burns Foaming at the Mouth After Being Invited to PowerPoint Party

Posted on by Samuel Abraham

MANCHESTER — Conservator of Americana and lauded documentarian Ken Burns was seen foaming at the mouth on Thursday evening after being invited to a PowerPoint party scheduled for the following night, confirmed sources while checking to see if they still had access to Microsoft 365. 

“That just wasn’t enough time to put together a deeply researched six-part, 750-slide presentation that is historically accurate and emotionally poignant,” stated Burns, still convalescing at his pastoral estate. “I knew I wouldn’t have time to weave together an equitable and level-headed account of something as vivid or complex as the American Revolution or Civil War, but if you ask Babe Ruth to be on your baseball team, he’s gonna want to hit a home run. I owe it to my fellow PowerPoint partygoers to be as thoughtful as possible. Even the mere thought of presenting something reactionary and glib makes me physically ill. I think I might be urinating as I speak, actually.”

Burns’ longtime narrator and veteran actor Peter Coyote provided an eyewitness account of the incident.

“It’s my fault, really,” began Coyote, lulling nearby listeners into an ethereal reverie of beauty and knowledge with his dulcet tones. “We were out to lunch and I casually mentioned that a buddy was gonna be throwing a PowerPoint party the next day and that he should come. I should’ve known that that’s like telling Garfield that we’re going to a fucking lasagna factory. He just started quivering, spitting up foamy detritus, and shaking like a paint mixer in the middle of the restaurant. It was horrifying.”

Bill Pulaski, the host of the PowerPoint party, offered a different point of view of the ill-fated gathering.

“Personally? I feel terrible that he fell ill, but I was thrilled that Ken couldn’t make it,” said Pulaski. “I’d have never invited him. Not because he’s a bad guy, but we were just trying to have fun, you know? Just putting together a few minute presentations on your opinions on hot dog condiments, or what zodiac sign has the most body hair or some shit- not signing up for a 12-hour recap of the Battle of Antietam or whatever.”

As Burns recovers, nurses are reportedly slowly moving old, sepia tone photos across his field of vision around the clock to keep his heart rate stable.

Man Can’t Tell if Friend’s Art Show Surrealist or Bad

Posted on by Ben Friedman

NEW YORK — While attending a friend’s high profile art show, local man Brian Jacobs was left dumbfounded after being unable to tell if the works were supposed to be surrealist or just flat out bad, gallery visitors have confirmed.

“Gavin has been hyping up his surrealist exhibit for so long and I just wanted to be a supportive friend but what the fuck am I looking at? Like this one, with the five-eyed fisherman holding a melting bowling ball. I mean sure it’s weird, but it looks like it was painted by a first grader,” said Jacobs. “I may only have a simple understanding of surrealism, but now I’m beginning to wonder if Gavin does as well, unless objects and people in his dreams also look like hot garbage. At least this shindig has an open bar.”

Artist-in-residence Gavin McCloud was excited his work was already creating a fierce discourse.

“I’ve been working on these pieces for nine months, and to see everyone have some passionate discussions about my work is incredibly validating. Everyone here is so shocked by the intensity of the paintings, they can barely make eye contact with me. What can I say, I’m very good at creating works that subvert rational thought,” said McCloud. “I can tell Brian is the most impressed. He keeps looking at me from across the room, shaking his head in disbelief. Don’t say anything, but I’m giving him that painting of the melting bowling ball when the show is over.”

Gallery owner Christine Morgan admitted to hosting exhibits of dubious quality.

“I want artists to view my gallery as a safe space to push the boundaries of avant garde, but sometimes a donor will hand me a six figure check and I will politely host their kid’s derivative work to justify their $90,000 art school bill, like tonight’s show,” said Morgan. “But even I feel bad when someone who doesn’t know Basquiat from their own butthole invites two dozen people to a surefire shit show. I’ve always advised if a friend calls them out to just say it’s all supposed to be ironically daub, and that the ambiguity of the art’s quality is the real art all along and then pray they don’t ask any follow up questions.”

As of press time, McCloud was visibly upset after Jacobs laughed in his face upon learning the cheapest painting had a $7,000 price tag.

Kash Patel’s Official Travel Schedule Suspiciously Similar To Upcoming Papa Roach Tour Dates

Posted on by Steve Packosky

WASHINGTON — FBI Director Kash Patel has come under fire for his official travel schedule being ostensibly identical to nu-metal band Papa Roach’s upcoming U.S. tour, sources report.

“Patel’s use of government resources, which he passes off as being part of his professional duties, is becoming a real problem for him,” said investigative journalist Yadira Jimenez. “From Hawaii snorkeling excursions to his use of the FBI’s Gulfstream V jet to attend concerts with his girlfriend, it’s obvious that Patel is using taxpayer dollars to fund personal activities. His following a rap-rock band from the early 2000s is just the most recent example of his wanton dereliction of duty. Just look at this map I’ve made of his schedule superimposed over the Papa Roach tour. He’s not even trying to hide it at this point.”

Former FBI Director James Comey agreed with Jimenez. 

“I would express bewilderment at Patel still being in this job, but given the current administration, I suppose it’s par for the course,” Comey sighed. “You know how important his duties are to the security of all U.S. citizens? Should the sight of him pathetically chugging beer and singing some shitty Toby Keith song with the U.S. men’s national ice hockey team instill confidence in the American public? If he wants to live his angst-ridden teenage dream of following Papa Roach on tour, he should be doing it on his own time before we suffer another terrorist attack as a direct result of him ignoring his responsibilities.”

Patel was dismissive of the criticism lobbied against him.

“Pssht, whatever bro,” Patel scoffed as he polished off his sixth can of Natural Light over an expensed lunch of Wagyu beef tartare topped with foie gras and Osetra caviar. “I’m just going to tour FBI offices all over the country to make sure they’re operating to standard. What I might or might not do at night with my Bureau credit card is completely irrelevant. Look, is Papa Roach the sickest fucking band ever? Of course they are, and it’s been my lifelong dream to sing along to ‘Last Resort’ on every date of one of their tours, but that is unrelated to my professional life as Director of…wait. Which Federal organization am I the head of again?”

At press time, Patel’s upcoming visits to several conferences in Europe appeared to coincide with several Breaking Benjamin festival appearances.

Person Comparing Artichokes in Produce Section Running on Pure Instinct

Posted on by Samuel Abraham

ARCATA, Calif. — Local school teacher Sally Beehill is using pure instinct and deeply entrenched in thought while comparing which artichoke to purchase at the grocery store, confirmed sources who had no idea how to differentiate themselves.   

“I suppose I’m supposed to be looking for any dark spots, bugs, or any other unpleasantries that can come with fresh, local produce, but it’s really just based on a hunch,” said Beehill. “However, this is bigger than all of that. It’s bigger than me, even. I’m not so much comparing artichokes as I am listening to the warm animal of my body and awaiting her guidance. There is a liberated, primal beast within me that will point me towards which one of these miraculous botanical gifts will pair best with the end of my jar of mayo that’s about to turn if I don’t use it. I don’t care if I’ve been standing here for 15 minutes. I need to know which one speaks to me directly before I move onto selecting the right mango.”

Onlookers have gathered in the produce section of local grocer Wildberries Marketplace and are waiting with bated breath for Beehill’s decision.

“What’s her strategy? What’s her value system?” shopper Terry Manson queried. “If I need an artichoke, I just grab one or two and that’s that. I’ve never thought to compare them. Are some artichokes fundamentally better than others? Could I have been supping the divine nectar of ambrosia in the form of artichokey perfection this whole time had I known the proper tips? Have I been doing it wrong? What else am I doing wrong? Jesus Christ, am I even breathing right?”

Experts were reached out to to weigh in on Beehill’s vexation, and the clearest response offered came from Doug Chalmers of DillyDale Farms in Oxnard.

“Look, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Chalmers confided. “What Beehill is doing is right. You just gotta go with your gut on this one. Every single day I wake up and sell these little sci-fi looking things to whoever wants to buy them. It doesn’t mean that I know what I’m looking at. I don’t have the first goddamn clue about what makes one better than another. Are you- is anyone– eating enough artichokes in their diet for this to matter?”

Beehill, now surrounded by a crowd reaching the dozens, was last observed tapping the artichokes for a reason that remains opaque to observers.

Why “Love Is a Battlefield” by Pat Benatar Justifies My Combat Veteran License Plate

Posted on by Steve Packosky

Wait, do you have a problem with the way I’m driving, pal? I promise I looked before I merged right in front of you, and no, I don’t really think turn signals are necessary. Maybe if you manned up and bought a Ford F-350 instead of that puny little Honda, I’d be able to see you better. Oh, you’re just asking about my combat veteran license plate. Which war did I serve in? Well, it wasn’t an actual military conflict, per se, but have you ever listened to “Love Is a Battlefield” by Pat Benatar? If you had, you’d be able to understand why my driving with that affixed to my rear bumper is completely justified.

What do you mean, that’s absurd? It sounds like you’ve never been in a tumultuous relationship with someone you cared deeply about, because if you had, you’d know it’s every bit as harrowing as taking heavy fire at Peleliu or storming the St. Mihiel salient. Pat Benatar understood this, even if the lady working for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania didn’t when I initially applied for this plate. She changed her mind, though, when I told her I was at Fallujah. To be fair, my shitty ex, Chelsea, cheated on me by giving an over-the-pants handy to that Monro employee with the ear gauges around the time that battle was going on, so if you ask me, I basically told the truth.

Oh, don’t get all high and mighty with me about “stolen valor” or whatever bullshit you’re going on about, either. You have no idea what you’re talking about, dude. Do yourself a favor and watch the music video for “Love Is a Battlefield,” and you’ll see what I mean. Watching Pat Benatar, playing a teenage runaway who finds employment as a taxi dancer in a nightclub, leading a rebellion (through dance) against its foppish but sleazy owner, will lead you to understand that there is no difference between laying down your life for your country and love, which you should understand is the most dangerous battlefield of all.

Look, we can stand in this Denny’s parking lot and argue about which of us is a “disgusting, pathetic, and morally deficient scumbag” until we’re blue in the face, but I have other stuff to do. Specifically, going inside and ordering a Grand Slam Breakfast, and not like it’s any of your business, but yes, I do plan on using this my license plate to obtain said breakfast free of charge. Good day to you.

Aging B-Boy Has Groove in the Heart, Kidneys, Lymphatic System

Posted on by Ben Sobieck

DISCO, Wisc. — Renowned b-boy and breakdancer Derrick Emu stunned Deee-Lite fans by revealing the groove he contracted during his time with the band has spread from his heart to his kidneys and lymphatic system, sources confirmed.

“It’s day to day, but I’m managing. I underestimated the power of groove. We all did,” said Emu. “It all started in 1989, right after Deee-Lite hired me as a b-boy. I basically danced non-stop throughout the ‘90s. That’s when Deee-Lite exposed me to dangerous levels of groove. Because it’s since metastasized to my kidneys and lymph nodes, I’m seeking compensation from Deee-Lite to cover my pain, suffering, neurofunk, new jack swing, and electro-breakbeat treatments. I’ve also got an unrelated case of acute funkstep from getting stuck in a tight skweee, but I can slough that off at home with an acid rock. It’s been a tough year.”

Deee-Lite’s former manager contested Emu’s version of events.

“For all I know, Derrick Emu’s medical issues are from exposure to asbestos or an Iraqi burn pit,” said Ginny Parliament, who managed Deee-Lite throughout the 1990s. “If groove is such a problem, why didn’t other members of Deee-Lite come down with it? I would think the same touring group who all got herpes at a hostel in Amsterdam would also pass groove back and forth. Derrick disclosed his condition to us shortly after joining Deee-Lite, but he assured us that his heart was only 13% groove. Now it’s up to 91% and it spread? That’s a little suspicious.”

Doctors who examined Emu warned of the dangers of too much groove.

“It’s ironic that the very band Mr. Emu allegedly contracted the groove from also delayed the onset into his kidneys and lymphs,” said Dr. Eliza Simpson, funkologist at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. “Mr. Emu worked the iconic slide whistle from ‘Groove is in the Heart’ while dancing in live shows. The athleticism this required kept the groove isolated to the heart until his recent retirement from dancing.”

As of press time, a class-action lawsuit requested anyone exposed to groove by Deee-Lite’s live shows in the 1990s to contact the law firm of Phunk, Jangle & Johnson to file a claim.

Stephen Miller First to Receive DMV’s Organ Recipient Card

Posted on by Nick Brandt

SACRAMENTO, Calif. — California Department of Motor Vehicles announced their new opt-in program alongside organ donation, with Stephen Miller being the first recipient, curious onlookers confirmed.

“The organ recipient program is a much more tasteful way to procure a kidney or spleen of the human variety. Once you get your hands on your very own large intestine, you’ll see,” said Miller. “I camped outside last night to ensure there was a White House representative to oversee day one of the organ rollout, and I don’t regret it for a moment. The sights, the smells, all of it. As you can well imagine, there are swarms of unhoused on the streets of Sacramento, and was I tempted? Of course, any God-fearing man would be. It doesn’t make me any less of a man to admit it. But we have to give the DMV a chance. Even without the thrill of the hunt, this new program has the potential to satisfy a market hungry for change.”

The DMV was a little weirded out by Miller’s presence bright and early on a Monday.

“I found it unsettling that Stephen didn’t blink or break eye contact for the nearly 10-minute interaction before I gave him his new organ recipient card,” said the DMV worker Gail Dunwich. “The American healthcare system has endured many unprecedented stressors, and they have neither the manpower nor the infrastructure to support the current backlog of ripe human organs. The DMV is the natural distributor of organs for donation, and we had to step up in order to make some difficult decisions. That said, some are more eager than others to get their hands on a gallbladder and sadly those individuals work for the Trump administration.”

However, not everyone was on board with the new DMV offering.

“Listen, I know the DMV is known for their share of odd characters, but aren’t there a lot today? Is that still an okay thing to say?” said a worried Jeremy Dalton. “I’m just trying to renew my driver’s license, but look around, the customers are acting so strangely. I feel like I entered the wrong building and everyone’s staring at me, specifically at my torso. That guy over there asked me if I was donating. Donating what? I just want to get in and get out. I don’t understand what’s happening and I don’t feel safe.”

At press time, Miller demanded to speak to the DMV manager after the clerk refused to source a human pancreas for him on the spot.

My Name Is Spam Risk, And No One Will Answer My Calls 

Posted on by Jesse Kubanet

Another day, another goose egg on the old meetings tracker. I’m beginning to think I’ve gotten into the wrong profession (outbound SAAS sales) with the name Spam Risk, but such is life. I have eccentric parents. You can ask my brother and sister, Fall and Flight, they can verify. 

I was born in 1985, a year that would later be immortalized by Bowling For Soup. My parents had no idea that Spam would become anything other than a delicious combo of pork shoulder and ham. The internet was a twinkle in Bill Gates’ eye. Or was it Bezos? I’m not much for computers, which again makes me think I’ve chosen the wrong career field.

Caller ID wasn’t a thing! They had no idea I would succumb to a lifetime of screened calls, trashed emails, and blocked text messages. 

I’m a great guy! Really, I am. I like reading, hiking, and disc golf. If you talk to me in real life, I think you’d really enjoy my company. It’s a shame all of my e-vites go unopened, and my group chats are archived. You have no idea how many unopened Piñata’s I’ve returned. Do you know how embarrassing that can be?

I’m constantly on the phone with delivery services, hunting for lost packages and unfulfilled orders. Never let me order a pizza, especially if you’re hungry. You wouldn’t believe how many OpenTable reservations I’ve lost. 

I do pretty well on the dating apps – that is, until a nice woman, 36, single, one cat, says, “Want to take this off the app?” Well, it’s been fun, Caroline. I know I’ll never get through to you. I’ve taken to snail mail and calligraphy. A relic of a bygone era that many women find “creepy” when I “ask for their address” too early in the conversation. 

I’m not a telemarketer, I’m not a scammer, I’m certainly not a robot. I have no interest in the length of your vehicle’s warranty. I am not a Prince (to my knowledge) nor do I know any princes. I’ve never worked for a bank, they won’t hire me. I do not want your Social Security number. At this point, I don’t even really want mine. 

I’m at a loss, I really am. Everyone always tells me, “Go by your middle name.” I would, I sincerely would, but Enteratyourown Risk would likely cause its own list of challenges.

Looksmaxxing Metalhead Purposely Fractures His Cranial Bones To Reshape Skullet

Posted on by Steve Packosky

MORGANTOWN, W.Va. — Metalhead and self-proclaimed looksmaxxer Owen Reynolds used a hammer to break several of his cranial bones in the hopes that it would reshape his skullet, sources report.

“I know this is a little extreme, but I’m getting desperate,” Reynolds said. “I’ve already tried other looksmaxxing methods, like suctioning my tongue to the roof of my mouth to improve my jaw structure, and wearing my ‘Butchered at Birth’ shirt less often so I wouldn’t scare girls away, and nothing’s working. I’m starting to think the issue is my skullet, as I’ve noticed that it’s a little lopsided. I figured shattering my sphenoid and temporal bones would get it back to a more symmetrical, congruent shape that will attract more members of the opposite sex. It’s too early to tell now, especially because I’m really dizzy and in a lot of pain, but I hope this works.”

Reynolds’ friend Chuy Ramos was skeptical of his friend’s decision.

“I just don’t think Owen needed to resort to this,” Ramos said. “I told him he doesn’t have to get this extreme, and if he just made some minor behavior changes, like showering or wiping off his glasses every once in a while, he’d be a little more presentable. Hell, if he just shaved off his hair entirely he’d probably have better results, because I imagine the vast majority of women would prefer a bald head to a nasty, wispy skullet. He could even just give up on looksmaxxing altogether and focus more on being a cool, funny guy to be around. Just a thought.”

Online streamer and looksmaxxing influencer Braden Eric “Clavicular” Peters was proud that he had broken through to the world of metal.

“I applaud Owen for having the balls to engage in this type of hardmaxxing,” Clavicular noted. “I’ve seen some pictures of him, and once his cranial bones heal he will look like a total chad. If not, he can always register in my looksmaxxing course where I’ll teach him to use anabolic steroids and crystal meth to ensure he stays both ripped and cut, and it’ll only cost him $50 a month. I predict he’ll become a total alpha if he does this, and he won’t even need to throw out his ratty Megadeth hoodie.”

At press time, Reynolds had also shattered his kneecaps to better accentuate the way they look in cargo shorts.