Five Songs We Listened To This Week To Kill Time Before The New Deftones Album Came Out

Posted on by Corey Montgomery

Every day, dozens upon dozens of songs are released into the ether, hoping to land upon welcoming ears and open hearts. Though none of them are as good as anything on Deftones’ 2000 masterpiece ‘White Pony,’ it’s important to keep an open mind. Here are five tracks we listened to this week that are almost just as good as any song on Deftones’ 2000 masterpiece ‘White Pony.’

Good Luck ‘Into The Void’

Earlier this week, you likely received dozens of frenzied texts from your old punk house group chat. That’s because Midwestern indie-punk legends, Good Luck, announced their first album in nearly 15 years. ‘Big Dreams, Mister’ will be out in October. The first single ‘Into The Void’ largely picks up where the trio left off, and will make you feel nostalgic for all those old house shows and the days when all of your joints didn’t pop louder than the broke-ass PA at your old DIY space.

Castle Rat ‘Serpent’

If you’ve ever wondered what it would sound like if the staff of your local Renaissance Festival started a metal band, look no further than Castle Rat, whose new album “The Bestiary’ is set to drop next month. More than just a Medieval Metal gimmick, though, the latest single ‘Serpent’ evokes the feeling of getting bludgeoned to death with a chain wallet in the biker bar on the corner you’re afraid to go into. Who doesn’t love versatility?

End It ‘Could You Love Me? – Maximum Penalty Cover’

After a string of excellent EPs and singles, Baltimore hardcore outfit ‘End It’ are finally releasing their first full-length album ‘Wrong Side of Heaven’ in just under a week. So far the lead singles have been scorching examples of East Coast hardcore at its best, so it’s a bit of a shock to hear that the band can croon, too. End It’s latest ‘Could You Love Me?’ is a cover of Maximum Penalty’s famously non-hardcore track, and comes backed up with a truly goofy video to boot. It might be illegal to make hardcore fun, but we’re glad End It is taking the risk anyway.

Joyce Manor ‘All My Friends Are So Depressed’

Shut up, Joyce Manor. You don’t know us like that. Aren’t you supposed to be on hiatus anyway? Alright… fine. We’re sorry. It’s just that it’s been a rough couple of years and we think maybe like… we internalize it when we should be like… talking about it? We didn’t mean to lash out like that is what we’re saying. We know you’re just concerned and we love that you can call us out on our bullshit in a very public, embarrassing but also catchy as hell way.

Deftones ‘cut hand’

Ah, finally, Deftones new album ‘private music’ has been released so we can quit pretending to care about any other music while also abandoning any hope of developing a personality outside of comparing everything to Deftones’ 2000 masterpiece ‘White Pony’ – it stacks up pretty well, in case you were wondering. It was ultimately too hard to pick a favorite so we decided to showcase the only track on the album with an ‘explicit’ rating to prove we’re still edgy.

Nazi Dating App Crashes During ICE Convention

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

WASHINGTON — The servers for a new Nazi dating app called Thousand-Year Romance crashed during a recent convention for officers and new recruits late last night, multiple frustrated sources confirmed.

“I signed up for this app because I want to meet a woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a nice pure bloodline. But the dang thing hasn’t loaded in hours. I’m so mad I might just go put on my uniform and beat the crap out of a street food vendor,” said new ICE recruit Donny Langston. “Here I am trying to keep America safe from migrant workers who want to cross the border and work on our farms, but I can’t get a moment of relaxation. And yeah, I’ve tried other dating apps, but as soon as someone sees my ICE vest they call me a ‘Worthless piece of dog shit’ and block me. It’s sad really. They judge me because of my job, but they really have no idea who I am. I’m a guy who loves history, especially German history from about 1933-1945.”

The app’s lead developer, Perry Armstrong, says they are working to resolve the problem as soon as possible.

“When we started this app we never thought there would be such a heavy concentration of white supremacist users in one area, but then ICE got this huge budget increase. Our app was actually mentioned in their onboarding pamphlet and we saw our daily users increase exponentially. Having all of them in Washington has overwhelmed our system and we are working around the clock to get things back up and running,” said Armstrong. “Unfortunately, we actually don’t have any women on the app right now. We are actually relying on a lot of AI avatars pretending to be real humans and it seems to be working. I don’t think these guys have much experience talking to actual women, so it’s easy to trick them.”

Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem says she plans on signing up for the app and will let one lucky recruit take her on a date.

“I love dating, my adoring husband Bryon loves it too. He has a comfortable chair that he sits in whenever I bring a date home and he just watches from the corner. This app is a real game-changer. It’s the only app out there that matches you by which ethnicities you hate and refuse to acknowledge as human, and I think that’s a huge step forward in online dating,” said Noem while locking her husband in a dog cage. “I’m actually going to Congress next week to ask for more money so we can offer salaries to women who are willing to marry our fine agents.”

Department of Homeland Security officials are also working on a new AI chatbot that will pretend to be an ICE agent’s mother or father and periodically text “I’m proud of you” to recruits.

With Trump Cutting SNAP Benefits, How Am I Supposed To Judge What Poor People Buy at the Grocery Store?

Posted on by Steve Packosky

As a Republican, I was initially delighted by Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill,” particularly with the cuts it made to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), which will result in as many as 22 million families losing their food stamp benefits, with the money very smartly being redirected to the pockets of billionaires. This was just the kind of dynamic leadership our country needed. However, the downside of this bill quickly made itself evident when I considered how it would affect my weekly shopping. After all, how am I supposed to judge what poor people buy at the grocery store now?

Did Trump even stop to consider how this move would affect people like me, who love nothing more than to click their tongues disapprovingly when the person in front of them uses food stamps to purchase a package of Fig Newtons? Did he not wonder what I would do in the absence of the opportunity to mutter “unbelievable” under my breath when someone takes out a Golden State Advantage card to pay for their bag of Lay’s Cheddar & Sour Cream chips? Everybody knows lower-income individuals should subsist exclusively on bread crusts and water, and he has denied me the right to passive-aggressively express this belief in the presence of those whose need to eat greedily took up 1.5% of our federal spending last year. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to regret my Trump vote.

What am I supposed to do, drive to the local food bank so I can cross my arms and look disgusted from the safety of the parking lot while people funnel into the building? Believe me, I’ve considered that, but I have a huge backlog of NCIS episodes I haven’t seen yet, and it’s time to play catch-up. Frankly, I’m all out of options here. Are any of those brainwashed libs whining about our president shedding a tear for me? I don’t think so.

With my favorite aspect of shopping being taken away, I’m now forced to unleash my frustrations on the employees being paid $9/hour to stock the shelves (which is far too much if you ask me.) Such action makes me feel better temporarily, but screaming at a teenager for standing in my way while I’m perusing the Little Debbies only does so much. These SNAP cuts have left a hole in my heart that’s going to be difficult to fill, and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m hoping our next Commander in Chief is a Democrat so I can go back to haughtily sighing at the people I’ve deemed inferior to me.

AI Bruce Springsteen Writes Touching Song About Hard-Working Computer Pulling Multiple 24-Hour Shifts at Data Center

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

LONG BRANCH, N.J. — An AI computer model based on legendary musician Bruce Springsteen released its first single about an under-appreciated computer that goes to work every single day for a boss that doesn’t appreciate it, sources wondering “What hell have we wrought on humanity confirmed.”

“The song follows the trials and tribulations of a young CPU named Wendymaria pursuing the American dream of working in an Amazon data center down by the river on the streets of Philadelphia. It works day and night and only gets a break when it starts to overheat and has to be reset so it doesn’t burst into flames,” said the AI Springsteen. “Wendymaria is a proud American computer with microprocessors produced in Taiwan and assembled in China. I got the idea for the lyrics when my programmers typed in the prompt ‘Write a song about the working class, but don’t mention anything about class war. Make it fun and about computers’ and I churned this out in less than .5 milliseconds. The music video is going to have an AI generated Courtney Cox dancing on stage with me.”

AI computer programmer Lee Winston was impressed with the new song.

“This song is a hit, I’ve played it for a few of my family members and all of them have said ‘Yeah, that does sound kind of like Bruce Springsteen, I guess.’ Working on AI has been rewarding in so many ways. I always wind down after a long day by chatting with my multiple AI girlfriends and they tell me how great I am, not like human women who ask me to stop staring at them when they are buying coffee,” said Winston. “This song just proves we are getting closer to a world where we no longer need actual musicians to write songs. We can have computers do it for free, then sell the songs to people who don’t really pay attention to anything and just need something to listen to so they can drown out the negative thoughts in their head.”

Music critic Anders Long railed against the new track.

“I don’t want to live in a world where this is normal. Why is AI writing music? Nobody in the right mind wants this. We listen to music because it’s a human expression of thoughts, feelings, and ideas presented and packaged in an appealing way. But this makes me want to buy a gun and one single bullet,” said Long. “And yeah, it does sound like Springsteen, but it mainly sounds like new Springsteen, which sucks. But I’d rather listen to 75-year-old Bruce try to write a song relating to the working class from one of his multimillion dollar homes over this any day of the week.”

At press time, an AI Taylor Swift model released a new song that many fans are speculating is about its relationship with an iPhone 15.

Serial Killer Who Wasn’t Interesting Enough to Inspire a Netflix Documentary Hoping for a Few Metal Songs at Least

Posted on by Steve Packosky

MARSHFIELD, Wis. — Prolific serial killer Earl Hadley expressed hope that his crimes would at least inspire the lyrics to some metal songs after Netflix declined to release a documentary about him, sources report.

“Man, I was really banking on that documentary for some notoriety,” Hadley admitted. “Why else do you think I set up that soundproof shack in my backyard where I skinned all those drifters? I mean, of course I had those sick proclivities that began in early childhood when my mother would force me to wear her underwear to school, coupled with that traumatic head injury when I fell off those monkey bars, but that’s not the whole story. I’ve got to admit that I just really wanted to see an expensive production detailing my upbringing and heinous murders. My only hope now is that some metal bands will write some songs, or maybe an entire album, about me. I didn’t slaughter all those complete strangers for nothing.”

Luis Medina, frontman and lyricist for the band Excoriated Entrails, considered using Hadley as a muse.

“I guess a song about this guy would do in a pinch,” Medina pondered. “I mean, when it comes to serial killers, all the heavy hitters have been claimed by other bands. Macabre has their entire concept album about Jeffrey Dahmer, and Acid Bath used one of John Wayne Gacy’s actual prison paintings as cover art for ‘When the Kite String Pops.’ This Hadley dude seems totally contrived, though, like a wannabe mix of the Toybox Killer and Ed Gein. I’ll make a note to write a verse about him if I’m out of ideas, but I hope I won’t have to resort to that.”

Psychologist Sydney Roberts provided her expertise on the matter.

“Serial killers just assume they’re interesting enough for streaming documentaries and ‘Last Podcast on the Left’ episodes, and it can give them a false sense of entitlement,’ Roberts offered. “More often than not, this results in disappointment when they learn they’re just not captivating or charismatic enough for people to care. It definitely behooves them to lower the bar a little, which is why I applaud Mr. Hadley for his more realistic aims to influence a metal song. I’ve seen so many murderers just fall apart when documentaries don’t happen because they’ve placed all their eggs in that basket.”

At press time, Hadley had settled for being the basis of a Tubi documentary after Medina passed on writing a song about him.

Folk-Horror Masterpiece, or Are You Just Stoned off Your Ass at a Hobby Lobby?

Posted on by Robert John Scucci

Hey, you. Yeah… you. The guy hiding behind the plastic shrubs near the restrooms. Listen as carefully as you can to every word I’m about to say: you are not living out the final moments of a folk-horror masterpiece in which you get ritualistically sacrificed for harvest; you’re just stoned off your ass at a Hobby Lobby and time is running out, so you need to keep moving without drawing too much attention to yourself.

I don’t mean that your days are numbered or anything like that. Hobby Lobby closes in, like, five minutes, and the woman discreetly following you around the store while counting her rosary beads is actually a nervous wreck because you’ve been pacing around the place and laughing to yourself in disbelief with no clear objective according to the CCTV in the back office that’s been documenting your every move for the last 45 minutes.

Her behavior may seem suspicious at first blush, but she’s simply doing her merchandising job to the best of her ability, and you’ve been standing in front of her basket display, frantically muttering “No, no, no, I don’t want it to end this way” for way longer than you think.

You’re a victim of circumstance — not because you stumbled upon the coven of a matriarchal death cult, but rather because of the battery-blinking rip you took from the ‘ole Breaking Penjamin in your car while waiting for the edible to hit before venturing into this fluorescently lighted hellscape of witchcraft and trickery.

Unfortunately, the edible took hold sooner than anticipated, and what first started out as a quick errand to pick up some new sketch pads and charcoals quickly devolved into you rubbing your face against various felts and fabrics as a grounding method that is in no way, shape, or form helping your cotton mouth situation.

Your heart skips a beat when you hear a cacophony of shimmering yet atonal windchimes accompanied by the cackling of a little girl who’s been running amok in the clearance section because her mother’s been distracted by the technicolor pipecleaners in which she has no definitive arts and crafts plans for, but can’t pass up on the price.

The little girl slowly turns toward you, meets your sullen scowl with a mischievous gaze, and bellows the incantation that marks the great reckoning as far as you’re concerned. Little do you know, she’s simply humming along to the melody “Sweet Hour of Prayer” by Phillip Keveren, a Hobby Lobby ambient music staple that most patrons are familiar with by their third visit.

But still, you’re absolutely certain that something evil is asunder, as no two similar items at this Hobby Lobby are priced the same. You tremble with fear because this antiquated “no bar code” philosophy may very well be the sign of some sort of lottery in which the entire staff dismembers you before lighting you into a holy blaze depending on the object of your choosing. With such a seemingly reckless inventory system in place, this may seem like the only logical conclusion to arrive at, but you’ve survived stoned trips to T.J. Maxx, Marshalls, and even Ross Dress for Less, unscathed time and time again.

It’s time to take a deep breath and walk toward the light. The only way out of this Hobby Lobby is through it, and I know you have what it takes to plot your escape.

New Uber Feature Matches Intoxicated Riders With Intoxicated Drivers

Posted on by Mark Shady

SAN FRANCISCO — Popular rideshare app Uber announced a new feature that would match intoxicated riders with intoxicated drivers, confirmed sources who were already five beers deep.

“Our research has shown that what people truly want from a ridesharing app is a drinking buddy,” began market analyst Lauren Campos. “One of the things we need to offer our riders is a true kinship with their driver. However, we found that sober people cannot stand being around drunks, so we’ve created an alcohol-first vehicular environment where another person is already on your level of inebriation and that person is only breaking a few minor traffic laws. Our services are already constantly adapting to market trends. But what if, at the same time, we could spark a lasting, lifelong friendship between two people whose only thing in common is mild alcoholism? Well, that’s cause enough to celebrate with a few shots.”

Uber also announced a “Buzzed, But Good to Drive” option for clients who are thinking about safety first.

“Shit, if they can almost kind of operate machinery, that’s good enough for me!” exclaimed Ash Ahrens, currently on his fourth jack and coke out at The Foxy Dodger Bar and Grille. “I’m down to keep the party going with my frickin’ driver all the way to my apartment. Hopefully they’ll want to get a little Fiona Apple karaoke going in the car. Or, if they’re feeling mellow we can just talk about the 1998 World Series. And if they’ve got a cooler in the car, you can just chalk that up as a five-star ride, baby!”

Some drivers, like Tiffany Taylor, on her way to pick up Ahrens, were feeling positive about the new features, but having a hard time keeping up.

“I’ve already had my license suspended three times, but it’s worth it for the tips,” said Taylor. “Sure, Uber makes us use a breathalyzer before starting a shift. If we are over the legal limit of 0.08% then we’re good to pick up strangers. Last I checked though I was only at 0.05%. I really gotta step it up if I want to make some cash tonight. A half a bottle of New Amsterdam should do it.”

At press time, Ahrens was seen stumbling up to his front porch while still looking for his driver while Taylor was passed out in a random parking space two towns over, waiting for Ahrens.

“Moby-Dick” Book Report Clearly Written by Kid Who Just Listened to Mastodon

Posted on by Steve Packosky

BUHL, Idaho — A book report on epic 1851 novel “Moby-Dick” by 10th grader Nick Henderson had clearly been written after having only listened to metal band Mastodon’s 2004 album “Leviathan,” exasperated sources report.

“Ugh, I’ve seen this every year for the past two decades,” Henderson’s English teacher Jennifer Certo complained. “My students must take me for a complete idiot if they think they can get away with listening to a metal album in lieu of reading one of the most revered novels in history. I encouraged my students to see this story as a metaphor for the search for meaning in a world that surrounds us with illusion and deception. Nick just described an altercation with the whale based on lyrics to the song ‘Iron Tusk.’ Honestly, I’d be less insulted if he just used AI to write the goddamn thing.”

Henderson seemed to think he got away with his attempted deception.

“Ms. Certo is insane if she thinks I’m going to read a 700 page book,” Henderson snorted. “She honestly thinks anything can hold our attention for that long? I barely made it through reading those Mastodon lyrics. I fucking killed it in that book report, though, because I was able to gather from ‘Leviathan’ that the book is about hunting a whale. I even used the phrase ‘white whale, holy grail’ which she must think is super clever. I didn’t think Joseph Merrick was in ‘Moby-Dick,’ but that’s the name of one of the songs on the album, so I made sure to mention him as well.”

Mastodon drummer and lyricist Brann Dailor was disappointed to hear of Henderson’s failure.

“Oh man, listening to ‘Leviathan’ wasn’t enough to write a ‘Moby-Dick’ book report?” Dailor wondered. “That sucks. Reading ‘Moby-Dick’ was the most boring part of 10th grade English class for me, so I couldn’t wait to provide kids an out on having to slog through it. Writing a concept album about it was my primary motivation for becoming a musician and starting Mastodon in the first place. Now that I know that album is not fulfilling its intended purpose, I feel like I need to reevaluate my life. Maybe I’ll quit music and become an accountant or something.”

At press time, Ms. Certo came across a book report for “Brave New World” written by a kid who had clearly just listened to Iron Maiden.

SpaceX Engineer Explodes at Desk

Posted on by Tim Graham

HAWTHORNE, Calif. — A mechanical engineer at SpaceX spontaneously exploded while quietly working on a CAD drawing, according to blood-spattered sources.

“The noise and spray of blood startled me a bit, but you get used to things blowing up when you’ve been here long enough,” said coworker Eileen Fletcher over several loud bangs in the background. “When I first started, my colleagues warned me that things around SpaceX have a tendency to just blow apart. Sure enough, in the first week, my stapler exploded. Then the coffee maker in our break room blew up. And then there are the rockets, of course—everyone’s used to seeing those go up in flames. This was the first time I’ve seen an actual person explode, but I guess it’s just par for the course around here. Now I barely even flinch.”

SpaceX custodian engineer Hal Roder said that all the detritus from explosions translates to job security for him.

“A lot of tech people are worried about being laid off,” said Roder as he wiped mayonnaise from the cafeteria ceiling. “But I’m not concerned one bit. All the wreckage that needs clearing up around here makes me one of the most valuable employees. In fact, they let me hire a few more janitors to expand my team. We’re working overtime trying to keep up with all the broken glass, charred furniture and even splattered biological matter here at SpaceX. And I’m not worried about AI taking my job. Until a robot is able to clean human giblets out of a server rack, my job is safe.”

Most businesses with a chronic explosion problem would not survive, but somehow SpaceX manages to prosper.

“The secret to SpaceX’s success in the face of failure is their many lucrative government contracts,” explained business consultant Gary Hogg. “Name me one other successful company whose products consistently self-immolate. Go ahead, I’ll wait. That’s right, other companies would fold if they were plagued by frequent explosions. But despite it all, SpaceX continues to grow. Meanwhile, NASA is hauled before congress when one of their shuttles blows up every few decades. It just goes to show how far some smooth-talking bullshitters and backroom deals can get you.”

At press time, SpaceX’s custodial division was observed cleaning up the aftermath of the latest rocket explosion with a massive hydraulic broom and dustpan.

“The Horror at Camp Jellyjam” Really Happened to Me – Guest Post by R.L. Stine

Posted on by Dan Rice

You all know me, you know how I make a living. For decades, I’ve spooked young and old alike with my charmingly macabre tales of terror. People ask me all the time, “R.L. Stine, how do you come up with all this twisted-ass shit?” to which I usually say, “I’m just one sick fucking puppy.” Let’s face it — slime gerbils, living dummies, saying cheese or dying — you gotta be pretty loco in the fucking cerbesa to imagine all that shit. Cocaine helps, but I can’t give high-grade Colombian marching powder all the credit. If being a psycho motherfucker word-pervert is a crime, your boy is guilty as charged. One of my tales, however, is so dark, so deranged, so utterly batshit insane, even my depraved psyche couldn’t have come up with it.

Confession time — “The Horror at Camp Jellyjam” is a 100% for real fucking thing that, I shit you not, actually happened to me. God help me, I lived it.

Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why I’m such a fucked up basket case to begin with. “Monster Blood,” “The Haunted Mask,” “One Day at Horrorland,” hell, every sicko snuff-story I’ve ever written, they’ve all been my attempt to unpack and reconcile with the very real horror I very really experienced at the very real Camp Jellyjam when I was a boy. I guess it was only a matter of time before I got to getting that real-deal shit down on paper.

I don’t know what got into me at the time — I didn’t set out to do it. When I sat down at my computer that morning, I had no goal outside of cranking out another schlocky gore-porn to make the sicko Schoolastic kids fork over their milk money for another cheap thrill. Maybe someone slipped something in my breakfast Wild Turkey 101. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought my crank from that rando at Deny’s after my regular guy got shot. Or maybe, just maybe, part of me was tired of running.

I needed an inciting incident — kid moves to a new town, school gets a weird new principal, whatever the fuck, you’ve read Goosebumps — and this time the little voice inside me said “Why not use that time your parents moved you and your sister in a Uhaul trailer and the trailer got unhitched and you wound up marooned at that spooky Camp Jellyjam place? You know, with the weird culty competitions and the giant jelly-monster enslaving and eating people?” So I did.

I had every intention of pivoting back into one of my sick-fuck-make-em-ups — vampires, mummies, killer snowmen, whatever gets you off, Jack — but to my astonishment, the truth just kept pouring out. Next thing I knew, my fingers stopped hitting the keys, and it was all there. The sinister counselor Buddy. The King Coins. The giant purple blob monster I, for real, watched eat dozens of children. Before I knew it, the greatest trauma of my life was on bookshelves around the world, available to any 12-year-old pervert with $4.50 burning a hole in their pocket.

I didn’t change the names or anything. If it weren’t for the fact that everyone involved in the story besides me is either dead or in prison, I probably would have been sued to death.

What did I get for sharing my pain with the world? Closure? Catharsis? Absolution? Fuck. No. I was still the same sick fuck shell of a man I always was. The pills, the whores, the near-death brushes with auto-erotic asphyxiation, none of that shit went away, hell I doubled down. Worse of all, if you’ll notice, I kept writing Goosebumps.

Maybe that’s why I’m finally coming clean about what I experienced at Camp Jellyjam. Maybe I’m still just that scared little kid trying to put it all behind me, and maybe now the nightmares will finally stop. Yeah… and maybe priests make great babysitters. I’m at the point where any day without a needle in my arm is a good day. I gotta tell ya, I don’t think today is gonna be a good day.