Casino Throws Out Old Money at End of Day

RENO, Nev. — Scrunching her nose while emptying sacks of old cash into the Pepperball Casino’s bins, Blackjack dealer Marie Newman did her best to steer clear of nasty splashback, confirmed sources.

“Every day here starts with fresh cash. It’s the lifeblood of a casino. But, like anything fresh, cash has a shelf life,” explained Newman, whose years of dealing cards have well-acquainted her with physical money’s delicacy. “By the end of the day, it can stink something fierce. You don’t want a noseful of rank Benjamins, you’ll be gagging for a week. So, yes, we throw out the money once it’s crossed a certain scent threshold. Honestly, if you’re hanging onto old money yourself, you’re a little disgusting.”

While many think of cash as a stable, even desirable commodity, its decline is not pretty.

“When I play, I like to be surrounded by stacks of cash. But of course, as a gambler, you’re often down. Now, that sounds bad, but the later in the day it gets, it can be a blessing, at least on the nostrils,” noted Creed Foster, a player at The Pepperball. “Money’s like fish—you want it new. ‘Course, I’ll take yours if it’s old, but not without a thorough Febrezing.”

While casinos are reputed to be money-making ventures, that the money itself is given to turning poses challenges for casino owners.

“This is a class place we run here. We want people coming in, enjoying themselves, and that requires a lot of moving parts—the drinks keep flowing, the music keeps playing, and our players keep playing. But they won’t keep playing if they’re choking on stank bills, you know?” explained Anthony DiMello, The Pepperball’s GM. “Quarters go through a million hands, and each leaves its nasty trace. And cash is made of fibers. Over a day, they trap the hot dog grease you doused your hand in, they trap the sweat you wiped on yourself—it all adds up to one thing: stink. If we could be cashless, our guests’ olfactories wouldn’t say no. But, no cash would cut our customer base, so for now, it’s fresh money in the beginning of the day, disgusting old money out at the end.”

At press time, hundreds of gamblers were seen running for the exits, as one player dropped a billfold containing tens of dollars that had been printed all the way back in 2008, thoroughly stinking up the place.

DUI Forces Man To Commute via Piggyback

DES MOINES, Iowa — Local man Jerry Servin dismounted from the back of Harold Orozco upon returning from work, just one of the many human beings whose backs he’s been forced to mount for transportation as a consequence of his recent conviction for Driving Under the Influence, confirmed sources.

“Look, I messed up, there’s no way around it—but can I just say that this is a strange way to balance out my wrong?” noted Servin, whose .10 blood alcohol level landed him a fine and the shame of having his driving privileges revoked, forcing him to rely on piggyback rides for the foreseeable future. “Yes, the road was more dangerous with me on it after some drinks, but the sidewalk, with me on piggyback, is now dangerous too, you know? Plus, there’s an inherent stigma getting a DUI. Why add to that by making me look like a toddler having a nice day with his parents? I’m a 43-year-old accountant, and now I’m showing up to my office with thighs soaked in the side-sweat of my friends, family, and Taskrabbits all because of my mistake. It just feels cruel and unusual.”

Some piggyback-ride-givers stated their disdain for drunk driving, given not only the dangers it poses to other drivers, but also due to the havoc DUI drivers wreak on their spines.

“Jerry’s gotta get right. He drinks too much, and now his problem’s my problem” said Gracie Williams, one of Servin’s piggyback-ride-givers. “And I know this is not polite, but the guy could stand to lose a few. Hopefully, cutting back on his drinking will help. I’m praying it does, because he’s turning my back into yet another victim of his selfishness.”

Drunk driving has long been a scourge on the nation’s roads, and a new crop of judges, lawyers, and police officers are working to discourage it through public humiliation.

“Mr. Servin did the crime, now he has to do the piggyback time,” said Danielle Perez, the judge on the case. “If you’re convicted in my courtroom, you’re gonna pay your restitution, and you’re gonna pay it in a way that the community can see. And if your crime is driving under the influence, you’re also gonna be shelling out thousands of dollars in Taskrabbit piggyback ride fees too.”

At press time, Servin was spotted attempting to cartwheel to his office after his brother turned down his latest piggyback request.

Guy Somehow Even More Unbearable After Going to Therapy

NEW YORK — Local neurotic Lenny Malone discovered a range of new, worse ways to be insufferable after spending months in clinical psychotherapy, according to family, friends, and a steadily growing list of enemies.

“When he took the plunge and sought professional help, we were delighted, we thought he was finally going to work on his litany of issues,” said friend Shawn Bugglar. “Instead he’s co-opted the lingo of that world and become incredibly condescending. Nowadays he has a lot of strong, unsolicited opinions on why the people around him are broken. I have an avoidant attachment style, apparently, and though his parents are still alive and they get on well he’s started calling himself a spiritual orphan. Whenever anyone gets mad at him he says they’re projecting. It’s like, dude, you just crashed my car and threw up in the glove compartment, the only projectile here is your vomit.”

Malone himself reports feeling far more in touch with how profound and interesting he is, and how the world continues to fail him.

“I don’t expect regular people to understand my depth, my trauma, the journey I am on. I’m not going to do the emotional labor of explaining myself. If anything I feel sorry for them,” Malone said while very, very drunk. “I’ve come to understand that well-rounded personalities and so-called ‘happiness’ are just repression, defense mechanisms. They’re not authentic, like me. I try to explain to them how damaged they really are but they won’t listen. They don’t understand. No one understands me.”

Malone’s therapist, meanwhile, thinks he’s making great strides.

“He’s making tremendous progress. We’ve been working hard on his inner child and his grasp of archetypes is coming along nicely,” said Dr. Belinda Carlisle. “Changes in behavior? That misses the point entirely. We’re here to reflect, analyze, and grow. But not too much. It’s all about what’s going on inside, forever. Besides, anyone doubting his life skills need only see the reliability with which he pays my $200 an hour fees. Or maybe it’s his parents who do that, I forget. Anyway, how would you describe your relationship with your father?”

At the time of publication, Malone reportedly diagnosed most of his immediate friends and acquaintances as covert narcissists.

Uh Oh: Your Aunt Is Calling You, Someone’s Definitely Dead

Fuck. Why the fuck would your aunt be calling you? Fuck. Someone’s dead. Someone is fucking dead. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Why else would she be calling right now? What else could it even fucking be? Fucking good news? No. You barely even know this fucking person. Have you ever spoken on the phone with them? Ever? No, actually, have you ever spoken to this person one-on-one in your life? “Hi”, “Merry Christmas”, and “Goodbye” is not enough history for a phone call out of the fucking blue. Seriously, what the fuck is their problem? 

How many goddamn people died that SHE is the one calling you?

What the fuck else could it be? Could it be good news? Obviously fucking not. What possible good news could your aunt even have? “Hey sweetie, just wanted to call and say your uncle bought a kayak. We’re calling everybody for some fucking reason.” You know what, they would. They would do that. They’re the fucking type. Un-fucking-believable.

How do you answer? What the fuck are you supposed to say? “Oh hi? Oh, I sound weird? Hrmm, uh, I guess it might be because I’m in the middle of this fucking panic attack you just fucking caused. Now enough with the niceties and just fucking tell me when the funeral is and who the fuck to make the fucking card about!”

Hold on, was anyone supposed to die? Not really. Your last grandmother died like two years ago. Fucking shit, did someone get in a car accident? House collapsed into a sinkhole? A fucking stroke? A heart attack? Suicide? Jesus fucking christ, why is your family so fucking stupid and unhealthy? Any one of these goddamn assholes could be dead. Fucking hell.

Should you let it go to voicemail? Maybe you’ll be able to hear if they’ve been crying. But what if they don’t leave a voicemail? What if they send some vague bullshit text? What if they keep calling? Oh fuck if she calls twice, somebody SUPER died. Fucking ridiculous. They’re being fucking ridiculous. This isn’t how you treat someone.

Okay, who could it be? Rob looked rough at Christmas…but he always looks rough. Did anyone mention somebody being sick? Why is the family text chain only about what dish they’re bringing to the next holiday?

You can’t answer. You’re emotionally unprepared.

Also, what voice are you supposed to answer with? Casual voice? Solemn voice? Tired voice? About-to-hear-terrible-fucking-news voice? What does that even sound like? Who knows, but you can’t answer all cheerful, like “Heyyyyy!” and then immediately find out that your uncle died under his riding mower. You’d have to downshift so hard. You do not have that kind of range.

Fuck it. Just fucking pick up. Answer it. Come on. Fucking answer it. Let’s fucking go!
“Hi sweetheart! Quick question. Do you still know computers?”

This bitch’s husband better get ready to make some calls, because she’s fucking dead.

Drummer Using Other Band’s Drum Throne Lines It With Toilet Paper

PATCHOGUE, N.Y. — Jake Stamberg of local metal outfit A Stance Defiant borrowed fellow drummer Michael Fleisher’s drum throne only to line it with carefully placed strips of toilet paper from the venue’s restroom, confirmed sources. 

“I’m not making a statement on anyone else’s hygiene,” said Stamberg of his sanitary precaution. “It’s just my personal preference. It’s either this or squatting, which makes double kick playing very difficult. Besides, who says cleanliness doesn’t belong in metal? From what I understand, the great Dimebag Darrell was known to sanitize his liver daily with an alcohol-based solution, far more potent than anything we use on our hands, called Black Tooth Grin.” 

Though some audience members appeared baffled and even offended by Stamberg’s seemingly excessive health measures, Fleisher responded with a surprising amount of understanding.  

“Well, it’s weird that he would ask to use my throne in the first place, if he’s worried about my cleanliness,” said Fleisher. “But, I suppose metal has enough issues dealing with homophobes, and xenophobes, to worry much about germaphobes. Besides, this a rock, punk, and metal venue, I’m willing to bet the thickness of their bathroom tissue barely even amounts to a single ply.”

Though some may think this kind of hygienic concern flies in the face of the gritty nature of heavy rock and roll, Dr. Beck Jeffrey of the Bayonne Institute says that this type of practice could be a smart move. 

“It’s actually not a bad idea to sanitize any area where bodily fluids could be exchanged,” said Jeffrey. “Contagious diseases, like Staphylococcal infections, Norovirus, and Pinworm, have been known to spread this way. I’ve seen entire live rock music scenes fall to their knees at such outbreaks. And no I’m not saying that because I’m in the pocket of Big Drum Machine. Though, I suppose I should inform them both that merely lining the periphery of a drum throne with three sheets of toilet tissue leaves both your genital and rectal areas exposed, and you’d think those would be the big ones.” 

Dr. Jeffrey went on to explain to both drummers some other practices they can employ to reduce germ-spreading at shows, including wearing plastic gloves when counting the cash they make.

Biohacking? This Punk Only Drinks Eight Ounces of Water a Year

SPOKANE, Wash. — Local man Shank Capra piqued the interest of doctors and wellness advocates by reaching typically fatal levels of dehydration without any side effects, confirmed sources. 

“Well the water at my house is always browner than beer so I usually just stick to that. The bathroom has been cited by the city as ‘a low grade biohazard’ so I’ve had to cut back on peeing, other than back into beer cans,” local crust punk Capra explained, slugging from an unmarked jug of bright blue liquid. “Last time I had water was about eight months ago when I forced down a glass at my mom’s birthday dinner because the waiter said that was the only thing they would serve me. I don’t know what the fuss is about, because between Monster, liquor, and chocolate milk, I’m drinking almost all the time.”

Mike Stamper, a biologist studying mammal hydration patterns, expressed extreme concern mingled with wonder. 

“It is supposed to be scientifically impossible to be that dehydrated without dying. He’s drinking less water in a year than a mouse needs for a week,” Stamper explained in between quizzical stares at a whiteboard full of notes labeled “Punk Lifespan???” “We’ve been trying to get him in for testing but every time we hand him a waiver he freaks out about ‘government mind control’ and ‘trading his DNA for missle money.’ It’s really unfortunate because he might hold the key to curing any number of diseases, many of which he probably currently has.” 

Aubrey March, Capra’s neighbor, is extremely curious about the potential benefits of the no water diet. 

“I’m currently consuming 50% dirty soda, 50% melted beef tallow with only enough water to choke down my two handfuls of supplements, so it wouldn’t be a big leap to go no water. I’m all about habit stacking biohacking techniques to increase my wellspan,” March relayed while preparing some kind of injectable for her face. “It really makes sense. Our water is completely toxic from the fluoride anyway. I haven’t been to the dentist in years to avoid it, and all I’ve had to do is stop eating all foods that aren’t room temperature.” 

At the time of publication, Capra was seen dumping out a 10 gallon jug of water to use as a drum.

Oh, You Like the Ramones? Name Three Chords

So you think you’re a Ramones fan, eh? Well, your hair does look like it was cut with a bowl, and you are wearing a leather biker jacket without a bike. I guess that’s two points in your favor. But wait, how do I know you’re not just cosplaying Fred Durst cosplaying Marlon Brando from Limp Bizkit’s My Way video, and you just have a shitty barber? Nah, dude, you’re going to have to show me more proof than that if you want me to believe you’re really down with “Da Bruddahs.” 

If you’re a Ramones fan, then what’s your favorite thing to sniff? Model glue? Industrial cleaning products? I’m a floorstripper guy myself. What? What do you mean you don’t huff? Pssh, I knew you weren’t a real Ramones fan.

Okay, fine, last chance. If you really like the Ramones, then name three chords. D chord? Heh, I bet you play that one a lot, wink, wink. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with beating on your brat now, and then, you know? It’s perfectly natural to give your pinhead the ol’ blitzkrieg bop. Everyone does it!

Alright, that’s one chord, gimme another one. A5? A power chord, yes! Now we’re getting somewhere! That’s the kind of chord you play on a cheap surf guitar using only downstrokes, a real Ramones chord.

All right, come on, just one more, and you’ll have enough to write a song. What do you mean, there are plenty of two-chord songs? Name one! Eleanor Rigby and Paperback Writer? Whoop-de-freakin’-do! That’s great for a shit band like The Beatles, but we’re talking about the Ramones here, a highly sophisticated musical juggernaut. You can’t compose songs like “I Don’t Want to Walk Around With You,” or “I Don’t Wanna Be Learned / I Don’t Wanna Be Tamed,” with only two chords. Actually, I’m not 100% sure about that last one; I’ll have to Google it later. 

Well, I’m waiting. C-sharp minor 7th? I fucking knew it, you ain’t a Ramones fan! I bet that’s a vegan leather jacket too, isn’t it? Get the hell outta here, ya poser, before I beat your ass with a sawed-off pool cue! And take your minor chords with you!

Man Thrilled To Discover Heroin Cheaper Than His Doctor’s Co-Pay

MANTECA, Calif. — Local resident and tractor mechanic Steve Thompson was thrilled to discover a cheaper, yet highly illegal, alternative to his escalating medical costs, confirmed frugal sources.

“I’ve always been a glass half full kind of guy, the type of dude that really focuses on the positive, and because of that, I am positively excited that I am about to get very high right now to alleviate my lower back pain,” explained Thompson as he heated a bent spoon on a park bench outside the city library. “I’ve had medical setbacks over the last few years and honestly, I’m getting sick and tired of my co-pays going up, so I had to find a more affordable solution. And I don’t even need a prescription to get it. Not to mention I sleep really good at night, and the next day – then at night again.”

Broke patients aren’t the only people in town excited for an alternative to an HMO.

“You’re not a cop, right? You have to tell me if you’re a cop,” asked a local heroin dealer who went by the pseudonym “Atomic.” “They call me Atomic because my shits the bomb! So, you looking to buy or what? This stuff’s cheaper than urgent care, bro. I had a guy tell me he had a co-pay go from 30 dollars to 80 dollars! You know what always goes for 30 dollars? My stuff! There isn’t a doctor in this city that can match my prices. While their prices go up, ours stay low, hidden in shadow like the opiate ninja I am.” 

Local physician Brent Goodman was relieved to lose some patients due to overwhelming demand and high costs.“I’m so busy these days that I don’t even have time to go out on my sailboat or fly my airplane anymore,” Goodman stated. “To be honest, I’m so busy, I am glad a bunch of these whiners have stopped coming in. I don’t set the co-pays, why are they complaining to me? Also, it’s much easier that they chose heroin over coming in here with ‘knee pain’ and asking for opiates.”

At press time, Thompson was further thrilled to realize he could swap out his expensive depression medication with the more affordable option of cocaine.

Uber Driver Clarifies Only He’s Allowed To Vomit in Car

DALLAS — Local Uber driver Gary Anderson issued a stark clarification that only he is allowed to vomit in his car during rides, confirmed clearly intoxicated sources.

“When you’ve been an Uber driver as long as I have, you can spot which riders are gonna be a problem the moment they pour themselves into your Nissan. So, I tell them: ‘Hey. I’m gonna get you where you’re going. Promise. But if anybody’s gonna be barfing in here on the drive, it’s gonna be me, capisce?’” said Anderson before noting that he used to be more lax about who could and couldn’t vomit in his car, even going so far as to offer clearly drunk riders barf bags. “Of course, I don’t puke on every drive—that would be gross. But sometimes I throw up. That’s my right. It’s my car. If I were in their car, of course, I’d only hurl if I had their blessing. We’ve all got to go along to get along.”

Anderson’s riders were quite perplexed by the unusual protocol.

“Look, I get it, every Uber has rules, but I’d never encountered this one before,” noted an inebriated Samantha Byers while focusing intently on a specific spot in the car with her window down to avoid breaking Anderson’s rule. “I’m sure any driver’s gonna lay down the law to keep their workplace how they like it. But even then, usually, that law limits you to zero vomit in a car, regardless of whose mouth it’s coming out of.”

While Uber’s corporate policies don’t explicitly ban drivers from enforcing the kind of driver-only vomit rule Anderson maintains, they do encourage drivers to keep their vehicles tidy. 

“Every one of our contracted drivers is expected to be respectful to their passengers,” explained Nika Cowalick, Uber’s People Lead. “So, while Mr. Anderson’s rule is odd, his 4.5 star driver rating can’t really be argued with. A number of riders cite his generous ‘burping policy’ in their reviews which, whatever that is—why would he need to outline it?”

At press time, Anderson was seen safely dropping Byers and her friends off, then treating himself to a few dry-heaves before leaving to pick up his next riders.

Opinion: My Ex Is a Narcissist… Unless, Maybe You’re Willing To Try and Give It Another Shot, Baby

We survivor types are a special breed. We have weathered the storm and come out the other side stronger. I extend my understanding and unconditional empathy to any and all who have suffered at the hands of my ex-girlfriend, Janet, who thinks she’s just WAY too good for a decent guy like myself. Which is typical of someone who clearly has narcissistic tendencies….I mean, unless you think maybe we could work things out? 

Not that I care. I’m clearly better off without you anyway. But as a survivor, I try and focus on the positives of a situation like this. It’s probably good for both of us that I have become such an expert in diagnosing mental health conditions in women through minutes of studious internet research, and several drunken crying sessions with my boys, Jim and Trevor. They both agree your cold and calculated behaviors towards me are “total psycho bitch” material. 

Like that time you decided your Mom’s hospital “emergency” was apparently more important than the rap battle I had been spending all week preparing for. You have TWO parents. There’s only one of me. 

She totally lived, by the way. 

Then of course, there was the time you totally chose to break off our relationship and move on, when I didn’t want that. Textbook traits of a malignant narcissist. I’ve read all about it in the DMX-5 medical journal. 

I can definitely do better. 

Though, again, if you’re reading this, Janet, maybe we could get together and talk about things, sweetie? I mean, it’s probably good for my research on your condition, is all. And I’m concerned about your wellbeing. Maybe we could even get you help at this Mayonnaise Clinic I’ve been researching.  

If we set things right, I would even be willing to release a public retraction in response to my daily Facebook posts comparing you to famous narcissist types such as Karla Homolka, Vlad the Impaler, and that mean “Annabel” doll. I’d even be willing to bump you up a few notches to borderline, or even just bipolar. 

Anyway, I care about you, Janet, and only want the best for you. Let me help you help yourself…or (in the event that you don’t respond to this): good! I’m glad you’re finally leaving me alone. Move on! Find someone else’s life to destroy! Christ, I mean it’s been since 1997 anyway.

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