I’m Only Swiping for Your Dog, Because I Am Going To Have Sex With Your Dog

Posted on by John Danek

Hi, I’m Andrea, 28, and if I’m being honest, I’m only swiping for your dog lol!

Take me on an adventure! I love to explore and go on road trips while blasting music. My favorite album of all time is the Pants version of blink-182’s Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. Especially the deep cuts.

Some nights I like to just stay in, open a bottle of wine, and watch Netflix until it’s way too late. My favorite shows are Scooby-Doo, Hudson & Rex, and the Disney+ Turner & Hooch remake. Good vibes only!

But seriously, tell me more about your dog. It’s not one of those little yippie, tiny pups, right? I prefer a heartier, more masculine kind of dog. Pitbull? German Shepherd? Rottweiler?

Ok, you might be picking up on a theme here. I’m going to cut to the chase. I have minimal interest in dating you. But I do have substantial interest in having sex with your dog. Or should I say, “making love.”

I will obtain consent! I’m not some sexual deviant who goes around forcing myself on dogs. That would be kinda fucked up. My dog medium is an expert and really knows how to get consent via the proper channels. “No” means “no” and I totally respect that. Hell, I’ve been turned down more times than I’ve been approved. Do you know what it’s like to be rejected by a dog? Fucking brutal.

I pay well! Like, really well. This is my only hobby. I loathe hiking and all that shit. But to keep up appearances, we should at least act like we’re dating. It’s just easier that way.

Full disclosure- I am wanted in 9 states and commonwealths. The U.S. judicial system just doesn’t understand anything beyond the narrow worldview of the white supremacist Christian founding fathers. So when we go “adventuring” together, let’s keep it on the west coast. Those Mid-Atlantic types are a bunch of strict Puritans. How does your dog do in the car?

I’m not looking for any drama. So if you’re thinking about squealing to the feds, I’ll end you.

And FYI I’m really into bourbon and Taco Tuesday.

We Moved Out to the Country To Eat Free Peaches and It Turns Out a Lot of Peach Farmers Have Guns and the Peaches Aren’t Free

Posted on by Stephen Bell

Having grown discontent with the drudgery of modern-day life we decided to move out to the country to eat a lot of peaches. And yes while there were millions of peaches present, as the farmer’s shotgun informed me, they were never free or for me.

Those peaches were put there by a man, and that man had clearly killed before, and I was terrified.

Stealing said peaches were apparently against the law and I found myself soon evading the 5-0 in some sort of Dukes of Hazard-style chase.

With the country no longer being a viable option, I tried going to the factory downtown to get some peaches. Naturally, I preferred fresh peaches but I’ll take canned ones if available. Pie is my favorite way to eat them. Except those bastards wouldn’t let me in because of some bullshit about ‘employees only’. When I, an able-bodied man, offered to put them into cans, they rejected my application. It turns out they’d been tipped off about a wanted peach thief and I found myself running again.

I sat alone in a buggy marsh, day after day waiting for the heat to cool off, but the law caught up with me eventually.

I’d say we need to impeach the PsOTUS if they hadn’t broken up already. Now if I had my little way, I would sue them everyday, for enough money to actually support my dream of eating peaches in the shade amongst the twisted roots of my favorite tree. Instead, I got a cop poking his finger up inside my butthole during this cavity search to make sure I’m not hiding any peaches up there. Nature’s candy in my butt.

My love of peaches has now gone completely rotten and I feel squished by the system. Hopefully once I get out of jail though I can start a fresh new life in a land of opportunity. I was thinking about Cleveland because I heard a song once telling me Cleveland rocks.

Black Metal Band Photo Clearly Taken Inside Walk-In Cooler

Posted on by Chris Bowen

MESA, Ariz. — Black metal band Christrot took a band promo photo in what is obviously a restaurant storage cooler in order to emulate the cold, frosty atmosphere typical bands of the genre often have, sources report.

“The frosty, wintery image of typical bands is a tradition we strive to maintain,” frontman Byron “Blürt” Weiler explained while tightening up his forearm gauntlet. “And here in Arizona, it’s difficult to get away from the heat and sun so when it comes to promo pics, we gotta improvise. It just so happens that the best way to do so is to snap a few pics posing in convenient store beer caves, or restaurant stock coolers. With a little creativity and photoshop, you can easily brush out the slabs of frozen spare ribs or boxes of Old Milwaukee and the true kvlt fans are none the wiser.”

Aariz Arif, owner of the Shawarma Stop restaurant, details his history of having to deal with the nuisance of corpse painted scofflaws in his business.

“As if keeping the rats out of my kitchen wasn’t bad enough, I have these goons wearing panda bear face paint sneaking into my storage cooler to take goofy pictures,” Arif stated. “While I haven’t actually caught them in the act, I know for a fact they go in there because they leave traces of evidence behind. Once I saw black and white handprints all over a box of frozen beef I had laying on the floor. I’ve been told crosses and possibly garlic would keep them away, but to no avail. People are starting to talk, and no exterminator I’ve contacted will take care of the problem.”

Black metal scene veteran Nargül uses some of his knowledge and expertise on the scene to weigh in on the bizarre incident.

“There is a history of bands having difficulties maintaining the kvlt black metal imagery,” Nargül said while sipping on a goblet of wine. “Sometimes the climate just doesn’t cooperate and bands need to compensate for that. In fact, the cover photo for Immortal’s ‘Sons of Northern Darkness’ was taken in a pinch during a L.A. tour date inside the walk-in cooler of a Boston Market’s kitchen. The icon cover of Darkthrone’s ‘Transilvanian Hunger’? That was taken inside the ice cream section of a Citgo during an unusually hot summer in Norway. That’s actually chocolate syrup on his face.”

During press time, it was noted an unusually cold Arizona frost brought out droves of skinny guys in corpse paint to local cemeteries to get some quick pics in before quickly warming up again.

Alex Jones Alleges Sandy Hook Defamation Trial Never Happened

Posted on by Bobby Korec

AUSTIN, Texas — America’s premier far-right conspiracy theorist Alex Jones alleged that the Sandy Hook defamation trial, for which he paid $45 million in punitive damages, never actually happened, sources who didn’t know whether to laugh or cry confirmed.

“The whole thing was clearly a hoax meant to distract the general public from what’s really important, like the reporting we do on InfoWars and non-FDA-approved supplements I sell in my online store,” said Jones before rattling off other major events in US history he claimed never occurred. “If anything, the trial was staged by the deep state. I mean, the judge was clearly paid by the government and the jury looked like they consisted of randomly selected people they picked up off the street. Hell, even the guy they got to play me in court looked nothing like me, he was fucking huge. The government is going to have to do a lot better than that to fool my audience. Or at least have George Soros hire more talented actors for these publicity stunts.”

Mark Bankston, prosecuting lawyer for the Sandy Hook defamation case, couldn’t believe that Jones continued to make these claims.

“That guy knows full well the trial occurred, and all he has to do is look at his dwindling bank account to confirm the verdict,” said Bankston. “Also, Alex’s lawyer just so happened to accidentally send me a complete digital copy of all of his text messages where he confesses to knowing that the trial happened. Alex really needs to get himself a new lawyer, or at least a burner phone.”

Psychologist Kathy Bridgemont has long studied the behaviors of conspiracy theorists.

“These nut jobs will say just about anything if they think it’ll somehow make them money,” said Bridgemont. “They’ll even wield the First Amendment like it was written for them personally. But you can’t shout ‘fire’ in a crowded theater, and you definitely can’t yell ‘horrific mass shooting that claimed the lives of innocent children never actually happened’ to an audience desperate to accept any conspiracy that fits their already existing beliefs.”

In related news, members of the herpetology community filed a lawsuit against Jones regarding his false statements about the governement using chemicals to turn frogs gay.

How the Fuck Can You Always Afford That Much Cocaine on a Chef’s Salary?

Posted on by James Knapp

Seriously? You work part-time at Uptown Gourmet Hotdog Shoppe and yet I know for a goddamn fact you’re on your third eight ball this month. How the fuck can always afford this much fucking coke?

I mean, I’m not trying to complain here. You always hook me up with a bump when I ask for one you never even ask for a little cash or a quick tug job to call it even. But in a way, that kind of makes it all the more suspect.

I know you think you think you’re fucking Anthony Bourdain or some shit but you do still have rent to pay, right? Are you getting this shit on loan or is it industry connections that are doing this for you?

The other week you were too hungover to even go to work, and yet every night we were both doing full rails off the asses of strippers. By the way, thanks for that. But also, how the fuck did you pull that off? You tipped them all really well too and, while that’s very generous of you, I know for a fact that the service industry is not enough to support that kind of lifestyle.

Do you have a wealthy family member you haven’t introduced me to? Do they know you’re spending all their money on blow? Wait, are they El Chapo?!

Look before you respond with some cheeky “you don’t wanna know,” let me tell you, I’ve thought about it. And I fucking need to know.

I don’t know what’s weirder: that you always have coke or that it’s always really good coke. Like, there’s no way that the shit you get isn’t more expensive than luxury cars and some forms of boat. The last time you gave me a key bump of the stuff I was up for four days and I recorded eleven EDM albums. It was horrible!

Well, however you’re doing it, good luck I guess. Wait, have I been talking this whole time? Let me get another line quick here.

Not All Cops: Some of Them Rip Their Clothes off and Dance Around for Money

Posted on by Dan Rice

I know this isn’t a popular thing to say nowadays, but not all cops. Sure, some deplorable behavior has come to light in recent years, and the thugs on the force responsible for those actions should be held accountable But to let their actions completely stain police as a whole is to overlook the hard work of those boys in blue who just want to rip off their shirts and get this party started.

Let me tell you about officer Rob. One night I found myself at a swinging all-night party with plenty of action to be had. I was just there to have a good time, but then, the unthinkable happened — I was not horny at all. I don’t know if it was coke dick or too much whisky, but I was scared. That’s when officer Rob came onto the scene.

He approached the hostess with a calm but authoritative stride. Evidently, there had been a complaint made against her. The complaint? “Being too sexy.” In a flash, his clothes were gone, and the chiseled, glistening body that remained had me rock hard in seconds. Later, as Rob collected his money off the ground, Bobby Bown’s “My Prerogative” still fading out in the distance, I walked up to him and thanked him. Know what he said to me? “Just doing my job.”

That night I made love to a set of twin Norwegian girls and a Japanese businessman. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Rob and thank God he was there that night.

I understand that not every cop in the world will rip off their clothes and gyrate their hips to titillate us for singles. And yes, those cops are a cartel of murderous racist scum who should be wiped from the earth. What I don’t understand is why we’re only focusing on those cops. Frankly, the second that tight blue button-up rips against a set of bulging pecs, I find it hard to focus on anything else!

Maybe you should think twice next time you want to call one of these oiled Adonises a “pig,” unless of course, you’re referring to the giant hog barely contained by their cheetah print banana hammocks, in which case, go ham!

Sure, there are some bad apples out there ruining the bunch. One time I was at a Jack & Jill party, and a cop ripped his clothes off to reveal a bad Rick and Morty tattoo and, like, no 6-pack. Not cool officer Hardbody. Another time a police officer drew a gun on my Dominican friend for having a busted tail light. Not cool officer Hardbody. But on the whole, police are good honest people just trying to do their job — keeping things sexy.

Local Venue Has Most Profitable Summer Ever After Introducing Cigarette Flavored Popsicles

Posted on by Anna Walsh

PHILADELPHIA – Local venue The Jungle Room is having their most profitable summer season yet after introducing an enticing new frozen treat, sources who really need to bum a cigarette confirmed.

“Cigarette popsicles have proven to be the greatest grift I’ve ever pulled. It’s basically three steps: ban smoking in the venue, take the cigarette butt/rainwater juice from the outdoor smoker’s pole, stick some tongue depressors in it and throw in the walk-in freezer, and boom, you’ve got a final product that is gonna sell like hotcakes,” bar owner Joe Lormazza said while counting a fat stack of singles. “Without this 34-day record-breaking heat wave, I’d never have had this stroke of genius. Between the government’s policies to reduce smoking and increased pace of total climate destruction, it’s really a perfect storm for popsicle profits.”

Longtime smoker and occasional Jungle Room patron Kimberly Choi expressed her reasoning for buying the newly-minted “cig pops.”

“Is it as good as a long, sweet drag off of Parliament’s finest? Of course not. But even flicking my lighter in this weather causes profuse sweating, so I’ll settle for these,” Choi said, gesturing to the unappealing gray slush on a stick. “They taste like shit, they look like shit, and they are probably killing me. It really hits all the right buttons. They’re also $12 each, so you really get that same feeling of wasting your cash on cigarettes.”

The popsicles have become so popular locally that even the corporate behemoth ice cream companies want a piece of the pie.

“I can’t go into detail, but I’ll tell you this–as much as our market research loves the smoker vertical, we see even more potential in selling these unregulated, smokeless products to children, emphysema patients, and every one else who wishes they could be like Joe Camel,” stated Good Humor executive Keri Loman. “My plan is to synergize with our tobacco and trucking divisions and get these on every ice cream truck in America by next month.”

At press time, one of Lormazza’s employees was seen handing out free samples cut into sixteenths to patrons of all ages.

Disappointing “What’s In My Bag?” Installment All Amoeba Koozies

Posted on by Joe Rumrill

LOS ANGELES — Psych-rockers Flute Gingrich appeared on the popular Amoeba Records Youtube series “What’s in my Bag?” and instead of choosing a handful of their favorite records to discuss they filled their bag with dozens of branded koozies, confused and frustrated viewers confirmed.

“This is a koozie, it’s got a little Amoeba logo on it…it’s one of my favorite ways to keep your hands from getting cold while drinking something,” said drummer Harris Howard, about a dozen times throughout the almost 11-minute on-camera interview. “What else do we have here? Oh yes, this is pretty cool right here, it’s another Amoeba koozie, just in case I lose those first few. Never a bad idea to have 30-40 koozies on hand, because, like…who wants cold hands? I can remember the first time I used a koozie, it was about six weeks ago and I was like ‘damn, this is such a cool way to drink something.’”

Comments on the video were understandably negative, with many regular watchers of the segment voicing their overwhelming bewilderment.

“Wtf is a koozy f this,” said Youtube user Fran Ethan, before following it with several unsavory emojis. “One of the least enlightening things I’ve ever watched. Amoeba fell off with this one” wrote MelodyMan1221. Amid the negative comments, there was some showing of support. “Fantastic picks, thanks for the recs. Can’t wait to check these out!” commented user ColdCanLover42

Amoeba Records employee Helena Audrick defended Flute Gingrich’s offbeat picks.

“When they came to the cash register, I didn’t even know we sold koozies. I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever seen one outside of old photographs of my dad and uncle,” emphasized Audrick. “They even had me go to the back to look if we had more in stock…which we did, like two or three pallets full of them. We’re no stranger to artists not taking the show’s conceit seriously. Lots of them pick soundtracks to shitty movies or ironic t-shirts as a bit or whatever. But what was scary about the Flute Gingrich dudes was how very seriously they were taking this task. Those fuckers just love koozies, I guess. I dunno!”

In a statement issued after becoming aware of the episode’s response, Flute Gingrich has, perhaps vindictively, declared that all beer sold on their upcoming fall tour will be served “bathwater-level warm, just as you all seem to like it.”

Help! I Bought a Vintage Vest at Goodwill and Now I’m in Greta Van Fleet

Posted on by Zach Hudson

Every once in a while something will happen that reinforces my belief that free will is merely an illusion. For example, let’s say you go to Goodwill to buy an ugly vintage vest for a costume party, and next thing you know you’re being led out of the store by Greta Van Fleet’s manager, who is insistent that you now play lead tambourine in the band.

Somebody help get me out of this situation! I have no memory of this but apparently I signed a contract and my legal last name is “Kiszka” now. This is getting fucking weird, man.

I didn’t even know how to play bass when their manager approached me whilst browsing hideous, bedazzled vests that only someone nostalgic for 1970, or someone who thinks their band is the next Led Zeppelin, would wear unironically. He insisted that it didn’t matter as the parts were quite simple to play, which ended up being true. Also, I used to be a heavier-set guy with male pattern baldness but now I weigh 120 pounds and have a full head of long hair. I don’t know what sort of power these guys have over me but it’s not normal and I would like for it to stop.

I’m not meant to play bass and dance around on stage wearing bell bottoms with feathers in my hair. I don’t want to be in front of a crowd of Millenials who won’t stop talking about how they were born in the wrong decade. I just want to go back to my wife and kids and commute to my 9-5 CPA job every day.

Maybe this is some sort of curse that can only be broken by another poor soul purchasing a vintage vest at Goodwill. Someone please give it a try. I’ll pay you. I have money. I don’t know how much longer I can stand to be around these guys. I’m starting to get migraines from all the hair spray.

Review: The Hives “Barely Legal”

Posted on by Ted Pillow

Each Sunday, The Hard Times travels back and reviews a notable album from the past. This week we’re taking a look at The Hives debut album “Barely Legal” which helped the band gain prominence within the early ’00s garage rock revival scene.

I am writing this against my will. I begged The Hard Times editors to recuse me from this review, due to the intensely personal nature of my relationship with The Hives. But, to my dismay, I was told I had to write it because, apparently, all of our other writers are currently “in jail” for “felonies” and the judge said my colleagues were “scum not fit for polite society,” whatever that means.

They pulled this same shit last month when it was somebody’s turn to do a 3,000-word P.O.D. retrospective.

It all started in the spring of 2003 when I was a senior in high school and had just asked Katie Amberson to prom. In retrospect, Katie wasn’t necessarily a catch. Actually, with her greasy jet black hair and ghostly pale complexion, she sort of looked like a cross between Meg and Jack White. But I was young and in love, and it was trendy at the time to look like the ghost of a Pep Boys mechanic.

To prepare for the big day, I headed downtown and picked out a striking black-and-white tuxedo (which I figured would match perfectly with Katie’s lifeless pallor). I was so excited by my purchase that I strolled out of the shop in the tux and started walking the streets, looking to turn some heads.

Just then, rather terrifyingly, a beat-up van screeched to a stop just a few feet away. To my astonishment, out stumbled four rowdy Swedes, wearing the exact same style of tuxedo! They took one look at me, yelled some drunken insults, and threw me in the vehicle.

Now, I don’t speak a lick of Swedish, but from what I pieced together over the ensuing years, their bassist had left them in the lurch by quitting the band that morning to take a job slinging meatballs at IKEA. Seeing a tuxed-up lad such as myself walking around, they understandably figured, “Hey, this guy’s already 80% of the way there. It’s just a fuckin’ bass. Let’s kidnap him!”

Thus, the next six years of my life were spent as the touring bassist for The Hives. Much like this review, it was a cruel and unusual punishment forced upon me with little concern for my well-being. Please, dear reader, I beg of you – release me from this unholy burden. Do not force me to continue writing about this band.

And don’t even think of asking me about the four years I inadvertently spent as the lead singer of The Vines.

Score: 2 out of 5 Swedish meatballs

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