SILVER SPRING, Md. — Local child Kevin Gallagher is enjoying much of his day watching a “Courage the Cowardly Dog” marathon with his uncle Pete Firman, completely oblivious to the fact that Firman is absolutely whacked out of his gourd on psilocybin, sources who have seen this kind of shit before confirm.
“I love hanging out with uncle Pete. We watch cartoons for hours together—and he like, really watches them. I kinda can’t remember the last time I saw him blink,” said Gallagher right as the “King Ramses” episode started playing. “It’s neat, but I’m not really sure why he looks over at me every hour on the hour and asks ‘is this real?’ again. I guess it’s just him being silly. Grown ups are weird.”
Firman attempted to give his perspective on his nephew supporting him through his hero dose.
“Fuck, I remember this episode. That creepy mummy is gonna tell the dog to ‘return the slab,’ and then that spooky song is gonna start playing. Oh man, I might not make it through this one,” babbled Firman while gently stroking a plush blanket he found. “Yeah, without Kevin sitting here with me I’d probably be lying face down on the lawn with my eyes closed right now. Honestly, a while back he got up for a minute to get a glass of milk and I just started crying. I might need therapy after this trip.”
Ryan Clockerburg, an executive for Cartoon Network, explained the methodology behind developing programming to suit both small children and hallucinogen enthusiasts.
“We here at the CN cater to a very diverse audience,” said Clockeerburg. “Our programming has to be engaging enough that younger viewers will plop themselves mindlessly in front of the television for an entire afternoon, yet non-threatening enough that their acidhead relatives won’t start identifying conspiracy theories in ‘Dexter’s Laboratory’ reruns. It’s a fine line, but we do pride ourselves on providing a product that all sorts can feel comfortable letting their minds dissolve in front of.”
At press time, Gallagher once again excelled in his tripsitting duties by refilling Firman’s water glass while trying to figure out where his parents had hidden the Fruit Roll-Ups.
I’ve been living on this godforsaken planet for twenty-six years and, until today, I’ve never
ever felt like I belong. Well, all that just changed. I’ve been looking at myself the wrong way all my life. The reason that I’m seen as a “loser” has nothing to do with me flunking out of high school or getting a DUI because apparently a golf cart constitutes a vehicle if you take it out on the freeway. No, it’s because I’m simply not built for this society. I’m a wild, untamed beast. A two-faced wolf trying to get by in the inhospitable wasteland that is modern society.
There are two wolves raging inside of me. One seeks the cruel chaos of nature. The other strives to build and protect his tribe. Now, a quick thing about these two kick-ass canines. They’re both gonna need a little extra time getting the rent together this month.
You see, business hasn’t exactly been booming for either of them lately. One of the wolves has gotten really into Elden Ring, so that’s kind of interfered with its job search. The other one’s working on a killer EP that’s totally going to get it a label contract, but that’s still at least a few months away from completion.
Basically, there’s a ton of really cool stuff going on for both of them, but paying the rent on time this month is just not going to be one of those things. So how about you spot us the money, and they’ll get right back at you in like three weeks tops? Consider it a donation for endangered animals.
Tool is a platinum-selling, Grammy-winning, Billboard-topping collection of brilliant artists. Despite selling out arena tours, the average person does not understand the genius of the band. We do. Here are 10 reasons why Tool fans are smarter than you.
Tool fans don’t need to be spoon fed
Unlike fans of mainstream crap, we don’t need frivolous radio-friendly ditties, short album runtimes, or even actual “songs.” We appreciate recorded answering machine messages, cookie recipes, and nine minutes of literal crickets even more than the music. Sorry if that offends your conformist sensibilities, simpletons.
Tool fans understand genius
Maynard James Keenan devoted his life to strategically deploying truth into our ears. In the brilliantly titled, “Rosetta Stoned,” Maynard illustrates the torment of being a vessel of enlightenment, “Overwhelmed as one would be, placed in my position. Such a heavy burden now to be the one. Born to bear and bring to all the details of our ending. To write it down for all the world to see. But I forgot my pen, shit the bed again, Typical.”
He just described martyrdom better than thousands of years of religion and literature. It’s simple – either you get it, you don’t, or you’re just jealous. It’s our obligation to delve into the subtle scientific and philosophical ideas embedded in the work, share our observations and theories with those that get it, and protect the art by pushing down fake fans at the merch booth.
Tool fans understand music theory
Tool’s music is technical and difficult to listen to, which makes it important. To appreciate Tool, you must possess an artist’s ear. You don’t just listen to Tool, you engage with it. But these musical savants take it beyond the conventional pop garbage. They created their own time signatures that only they possess the skill to play in, but try explaining that to the DJ who won’t play “Prison Sex” at your cousin’s wedding.
Tool fans do the work
Tool songs aren’t written, they are constructed. Tool albums are precisely engineered. Anyone with a brain knows Tool wrote the song “Lateralus” based on the Fibonacci Sequence. It’s all about expanding reality and the elasticity of time. But that’s entry level stuff. The most diligent of fans know that if you rearrange the track listing of the Lateralus album in the Fibonacci Sequence, you get a whole new secret record, dubbed the “Holy Gift.”
Fucking brilliant, right? This is how deep you have to get to truly appreciate Tool, after all, we know the pieces fit, because we watched them fall away…
Tool fans are educated
Listening to any Tool album is a crash course in transcendentalism, linguistics, spiritualism, mathematics, mysticism, symbolism, and the chakras. Listening to multiple Tool albums in full over and over is like internalizing the Library of Congress, the Library of Alexandria, and the Dead Sea Scrolls all at once. Spend one day reading the lyrics to Tool songs, and you’ll be smarter than all of the teachers at Park Vista Community High School. Spend weeks studying the lyrics and you definitely don’t need college, so it actually doesn’t matter that I dropped out, dad.
Tool fans love a challenge
Maynard is a military man, a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu master, and a celebrated winemaker. He is a perfectionist and expects nothing less from us.
When he says we’re insufferable, pranks us on social media, and refers to us with ableist slurs, he is just challenging us to look deeper.
Why else would he write song after song about butt stuff? That would turn any casual listener away, but the chosen few take the invitation to explore the deeper meaning of “Stinkfist.”
Tool fans are patient
There were three years between Undertow and Ænima, then five years passed before Lateralus was released. There was another five years wait for 10,000 Days. 13 years later Tool bestowed us with Fear Inoculum. There are precious few fandoms that would tolerate this, but we relish it.
We yearn for Tool to produce more awesomeness, but we know the best is yet to come, as long as it’s heavy, meaningful, and doesn’t change drastically from one album to the next.
Tool fans aren’t afraid of controversy
The average person can’t deal with a band that upholds anti-establishment principles. Their precious minds can’t handle when a band goes against the grain, shuns public attention, and rails against music industry censorship.
We are the same way. Even when the band members themselves specifically insult us, sues everyone involved with their album art, and make us wait a decade between album releases, it just weeds out the unworthy. Tool’s not afraid to treat their loyal fans like shit, and that just makes us love them even more.
Tool fans have a sense of humor
Just because Tool explores the darkest depths of humanity, doesn’t mean their albums don’t include hilarious Easter eggs.
I’m literally laughing out loud just thinking about how they snuck 69 tracks onto the Undertow CD, how the album title Ænima is Anima (Latin for soul) plus enema, and the song, “Die Eier Von Satan” means “The Balls of Satan.”
Their throwaway jokes they put in are as brilliant as the funniest episodes of “Rick and Morty” and Bill Maher (two shows, by the way, that only Tool fans are smart enough to understand).
Tool fans don’t need therapy
Tool’s lyrics are so introspective, you don’t need some doctor’s phony empathy. Getting your fucking mind blown musically beats anti-depressants any day. Next time your parents, or ex wife, or some county judge insists you go speak with someone, tell them you’ll just listen to Undertow instead.
TROMAVILLE — Melvin Junko, also known as the Toxic Avenger, recently revealed that he is going to therapy for the first time in hopes of bettering himself, optimistic sources confirmed.
“Just last week I was sitting in the audience for a musical about my life. It was supposed to be rad. Like, ‘Point Break’ and Michael Keaton’s ‘Batman’ all mixed together,” said Junko. “Instead it was like catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror while taking a dump in a puppy’s face after eating bad sushi. And after seeing all the havoc I wrought in the city of Tromaville, all the pain I caused…it made me realize anger was the real supervillain of my origin story, ya know? I wanted to better understand what made me so toxic. It wasn’t just radioactive gunk, it was deeper.”
Shawn Jackson, owner of a local bookstore frequented by Junko, commented on his customer’s change.
“Back in the ‘80s, dude mainlined Hustler and Playboy. That’s it. And he’d come in like twice a day, every day. That money kept me open through the dotcom bubble and Amazon’s bullshit,” said Jackson. “Then, one day, he comes in asking for Tony Robbins and a copy of Your Best Life Now and I’m like, ‘you want a side of titties with that?’ And he said no! Now he’s only buying the newest Deepak Chopra and trying to regrow my missing eye with acupuncture needles he made out of ‘repurposed timber.’ That’s just dirty splinters, bro, Man. His granola ass fucked my bottom line all to hell.”
Junko’s landlord, Kyle Hermann, also weighed in on the transformation.
“Since he started self-actualizing, he’s saved me a fortune on chains,” said Hermann. “Tethering him to the basement wall by his neck was the only way to keep him from tearing the other tenants apart during his night terrors. Combination of CBT and ginkgo biloba, I hear. Though I must say, I will miss stealing his security deposit.”
Junko, replying to those who might recommend prescription medication for his mental health issues, was adamant that he’s staying on the natural route as he “is done with toxins of any kind.”
Derek and Cristina Bracken’s too-cool-for-school child-rearing practices were so lax that their children were taken away from them and made wards of the state. Bracken’s one, state of California zero.
Losing guardianship over your kids probably feels like someone canceling plans you didn’t want to attend in the first place, although I can’t say for sure since I’m a total pussy who still has full custody of his children.
The Bracken’s are always pushing the envelope of what’s cool, making other “hip” parents seem about as laid-back as a family of Jehovah’s witnesses. You thought you were cool after showing your nine-year-old “A Nightmare on Elm Street”? Think again. Derek Bracken showed his kids a snuff film…that he MADE.
In the Bracken’s court docket, child endangerment is cited as the main reason for terminating their parental rights, but how can the kids be in danger when they’re strapped to the gills with katanas, nunchucks, and unlicensed handguns from Derek’s unlocked weapons cabinet? Seems like you’re the one in danger, Judge Langford.
Despite what child protective services might say, the Bracken’s have rules just like any other household. “It’s not all fun and games over here,” Derek said, lighting a joint on the gas stove. “If we catch you smoking cigarettes, we’re gonna bum a few. If we catch you doing drugs, we’ll make you split the bag with us. If we catch you driving without a license, we’re going to make you DD while your mom and I get shit-housed and play Big Buck Hunter at the bar.”
The Bracken’s want their detractors to know there’s a method to their madness. Having both grown up in excessively strict homes where even the slightest misstep was met with corporal punishment, they decided to swing the parenting pendulum wildly in the opposite direction, proving once again that opposite extremes usually produce the best results.
NEW YORK — Serial party animal Andrew W.K. shocked fans with his new acoustic album “Let’s Get This Get Together Over by Nine” which showed a more reserved and mature side of the musician, sources with beer can shaped dents on their forehead confirmed.
“Partying has been and always will be a state of mind,” stated the relaxed frontman as he gently sniffed a wine cork to make sure the tannins were properly activated. “Sure, you can jump off the roof into the pool with all your clothes on, eat pizza for days, or shred a blistering solo on a guitar that looks like a taco, but I get the same exact thrill from playing charades with my neighbors, setting up a charcuterie board, and even talking at length about ‘The Paris Apartment’ at the weekly book club. I’m 43 now, and while my tastes have changed, you better bet your gosh-darned rear end that we’re gonna have a good time no matter the occasion.”
Longtime fan of the party rocker, Brian Deemer, doesn’t approve and thinks W.K. is selling out in a way he won’t be able to recover from.
“It’s just fucking pathetic,” said Deemer, also 43. “The Andrew W.K. that I know would not only get a party started, he’d let everybody know that we’re gonna party till we puke! I want to know the last time he spent $1,800 on KFC and beer, I bet it was before Obama was President. He’s gone soft, and I’ll never forgive him. I got a peek at his all-white touring outfit, and you know what the tag said? Nordstroms! Unbelievable.”
Local party expert Bruce Miller weighed in on W.K’s older and wiser countenance.
“If you want to live past your 40s, then you have to slow down. You don’t want to be the guy headbutting holes in the drywall while you’re collecting Social Security payment, it looks sad,” said Miller, sipping a Bahama Mama Clubtails from an antique snifter. “We’re all marching toward death one way or another. Some people like to burn that candle from both ends and die out in a blaze of glory, but my friend Andrew has found peace in taking the scenic route.”
At press time, W.K. was spotted pricing tablecloths at Homegoods for an upcoming scrabble “rager” at his mom’s house
LAWRENCE, Kan. — Former chimpanzee handler Scott Guiles is reportedly thriving following his recent career transition to manager for the self-proclaimed “apecore” band The Gorillalalalas, sources used to dealing with unwashed packs of feral animals confirmed.
“This new opportunity has been great for me. I love music and I’m very experienced with having feces thrown at me, so managing a punk band is just a natural fit,” explained Guiles while holding a copy of “My Life with the Chimpanzees” by famous primatologist Jane Goodall. “Punks are basically just chimps with worse haircuts and personal hygiene, so knowing how to manage them is all about understanding their nature. There was some resistance to my management at first, but after I bore my teeth to establish dominance they all realized who the new alpha was.”
Members of The Gorillalalalas were delighted about their being handled by a professional now.
“Things have been going great ever since Scott started booking our gigs. He can actually negotiate a rider with venue owners without devolving into incoherent, guttural hooting noises,” said guitarist Owen “Bananas” Rutherford, who frequently dresses up head to toe as a primate during live performances. “It’s thanks to him we can actually tour again—he got the van fixed after we took all the wheels off to make tire swings, which was fun but it cost a lot of gigs. He even taught our bassist sign language. Evidently, he has a vocabulary of about 1,000 signs now, but he mostly just uses it to ask for booze.”
Career strategist Doug Lemton detailed how numerous other occupations can also lend themselves to the diverse field of punk band management.
“Overseeing bands demands a lot of different skills, and those can come from a variety of professions. Need someone to handle money? Hire a former bank teller. Or wanna make sure all the equipment packs neatly in the van? Hire the Tetris world champion,” said Lemton. “Almost any need that could arise for a band can be dealt with with the right experience, though chimp handler does feel a bit on the nose.”
At press time, Guiles was seen assisting Rutherford with cleaning the blood of a perceived rival guitarist off of his amp head.
LOS ANGELES — The Hallmark Channel announced that their slate of upcoming holiday movies will be their most enticing yet with ten times more storylines featuring dead wives and mothers, confirmed excited shut-ins with no family.
“We’ve coasted successfully on twenty years of holiday-centric meet-ugly romances and secret princes, but viewer interest has waned since most of them can guess the ending 30 seconds into each movie. So this year we’re going to give the people what they really want: nonstop death of any and all maternal figures,” said Executive Producer Roger Wallace. “Nothing tugs at heartstrings like seeing two dozen conventionally handsome inn owners, handymen, and cold-hearted business executives jumping into second marriages after being haunted by unspeakable tragedy. Throw in a wish-granting Salvation Army Santa, and we can easily tap this oilfield for another decade.”
Veteran Hallmark movie actors went along the new direction but expressed concern with its macabre tone.
“I’ve played a wide variety of characters through the years from bachelor tree farm owner to bachelor cookie factory owner. Usually, the scripts would just lightly touch upon my singlehood, either by choice or tragedy and quickly back to baking gingerbread men with a blonde woman. But this feels like more of a bloodbath than usual,” said Hallmark stable actor Brennan Elliot. “I mean this year alone I’m in four movies where my character’s wife dies in a plane crash on the way to their dream job in Paris. Usually, the producers are a little more subtle telling women to not pursue their dreams and to stay home and raise kids, but a paycheck is a paycheck.”
Insiders in the entertainment industry have interpreted Hallmark’s strategy as a warning shot to other networks and streaming entities.
“Now that Netflix, Hulu, and even fucking QVC are jumping on the cheesy holiday movie bandwagon, it’s no surprise that Hallmark is stepping up their game to attract more viewers. Killing off moms and wives is just another ploy to sympathize with the chemistry-deficient male leads, and it’ll probably work,” said TV Guide columnist Morgan Williams. “Rumor has it that there are at least several other networks trying to keep up by producing competing films about orphanages in Christmas-obsessed mountain towns.”
Hallmark also announced that every movie this year will feature creepier, super clingy children hellbent on Christmas wishes delivering them a new stepmom.
Ever wash your hands in a Denny’s restroom after making room for your Grand Slam only to find that the hand dryer is busted? If you’re an ordinary person you probably looked around for some paper towels, maybe settled for wiping them on your shirt, and went about your day. Elon Musk is no ordinary person.
Musk is a problem solver, and when he realized the hand dryer at Denny’s was broken he knew he had to face the issue head-on. He ordered his lowest-ranking employee in earshot to get him a cot and some personal belongings. That’s right: Papa Musk will live in the Denny’s men’s room until that hand dryer gets its act together!
Talk about a goddamned maverick. What your limited pedestrian brain may consider “eccentric” or “bafflingly stupid” Musk views as “total commitment.” He engineered a nightstand out of an old cardboard box, loaded it with soda cans and handguns, and invited former president Donald Trump to use the urinal anytime he pleases. Checkmate hand dryer inefficiency!
He even added a sign to the restroom door that reads “Please No Vampires,” because, as he explained with his trademark smirk “It would be terrible for everyone if a vampire used this restroom.” He explained how this is the single funniest joke anyone has ever made, and with his dynamic 4D approach to hand dryer repair, who could argue?
It’s been three days, and Musk has spent the entire time offering to wipe any Denny’s patron who uses the restroom, provided that the doctor stationed outside the door has confirmed their gender and cleared them for entry. He is then washing his hands, keeping them in a constant state of needing to be dried. As he explains, “The thing people don’t understand about hand drying is that the hands need to be wet. Otherwise, you have no idea if your product is working.”
Musk’s 24-hour presence in the restroom has already made a huge impact. Previously the manager of that Denny’s had claimed that the hand dryer needed a new part and that a rep would be by to replace it on Thursday. Now that Elon is there to put the pressure on, the manager has confirmed that the rep will “definitely” come by on Thursday. That “definitely” is the CEO difference. That’s what genius gets you.
Thank you for showing us what real leadership looks like Mr. Musk! With you at the helm, we can all rest assured the future is in good, and soon-to-be dry, hands!
CARLSBAD, Calif. — Local woman Janice Rickards told her husband he could go ahead with his dream of building a mini ramp in their backyard so long as he established his will beforehand, several sources report.
“I just think now is the best time for him to decide which of his children gets what before he inevitably kills himself on that thing,” Mrs. Rickards stated while boxing up some of her husband’s belongings. “We almost lost him a couple years back when he was 43, during the infamous BMX phase. He attempted to bunnyhop a parking cone and landed directly on his spine in front of a bunch of kids at the skatepark. Good thing he doesn’t embarrass easily, or that in of itself would have killed him.”
Alan Rickards believes full well he’s a perfectly competent and skilled skateboarder, so there’s no need to worry.
“I don’t understand what all the hoopla is about. I was a fearless and successful skater back when I was 17, so therefore at 47, I should be even better,” Rickards enthusiastically explained while taking off his millwright uniform. “But first and foremost, I am a dedicated family man, so I honored my wife’s wishes to draw up the will. Now she and I know which of my sons will inherit my prized collection of ‘80s fishtail skate decks and signed ‘Tony Hawk Pro Skater’ promos. But they won’t get ‘em for a very long time.”
Aurther Barnes, a will attorney at the Barnes and Bellow Law Firm, gave some insight into this surprisingly common situation.
“I would say 80 to 90 percent of the wills drawn up here are instigated by someone’s partner having a potentially fatal and stupid idea,” Barnes explained. “We get everything from men wanting to participate in ‘endless wing night,’ to them wanting to join in on the county fair demolition derby. One time, a wife made her husband make sure his inheritance was in order before playing keyboard in an ASIA cover band out of fear he’d be bullied to death. It’s a good thing too, because he didn’t last more than 2 weeks.”
At press time, Alan Rickards had already suffered significant injuries while just building the mini ramp.
