Bassist Who Made Statement on Behalf of Band Beaten Within Inch of Life

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

CAMDEN, N.J. — Local bass player Conor Lenihan is in critical condition after being beaten mercifully by his bandmates for releasing a statement regarding the band’s status late last night, confirmed family members.

“We found Conor on the front lawn last night and it looked like he had been hit by a truck. Both his arms were broken, his face was swollen, and there was a note that said ‘you don’t speak for us, practice is moved to 8 p.m. next week’ and we knew exactly what happened,” said Lenihan’s father Andrew. “It was terrifying to see how badly my son was hurt, but I understand where the band was coming from. Conor had told me about how he finally got the login for the band’s Instagram page and I knew he was playing with fire.”

Members of Lenihan’s chillwave band, Lexus Paradox, claim they had to send a stern message.

“We love Conor, he’s like family, but he should have known better. He thought he could speak for the band, but we let our fists do the actual talking and our fists had an awful lot to say last night,” said vocalist Amiee Straught. “The worst part is that he put his name first in the sign-off at the end of his post. Which is insulting to everyone in the band and every non-bass player in the world. His name should be last, or second to last at best, depending on how we feel about our keyboard player that week. The irony is we actually had to release a statement following his statement because we have to cancel a few shows since half our rhythm section is in the ICU.”

Emergency room physician Dr. Amir Patel says this is one of the most common reasons musicians end up in his care.

“I want to tell all of the people who play the ‘less important’ instruments to leave the public messages to the vocalists and lead guitarists of the world,” said Dr. Patel. “Last month I was in surgery for 18 hours straight operating on a drummer who went on a podcast without getting permission from the other members of the band. Thankfully he’s expected to make a full recovery, but he will never drum without the help of a click track.”

Lenihan’s original statement “Lots of good things coming up soon” was deleted from the Lexus Paradox Instagram page and the latest post is a GoFundMe to cover the costs of his hospital stay.

Sober Space Only That Way Because of Revoked Liquor License

Posted on by Zach Hudson

RIVERSIDE, Calif. — Local dive bar Bog Hill, an establishment notorious for over-serving customers, fights, and unsanitary conditions, shocked regulars and locals alike by rebranding itself as a “sober space” due to the revocation of its liquor license, confirmed painfully clear-headed customers.

“Used to be you could serve five or six minors a night and it would be no big deal, but now you serve ONE seventeen-year-old who looks twenty-one and they take your liquor license,” said owner Rob Denzel. “I hate what this place has become, but I gotta keep the lights on, so we’re embracing this whole sober thing and serving imported sodas and other bullshit until they reinstate my license. I’d pay most of the bands that play here in booze, and now I actually have to give them cash. It sucks.”

Townies who have been coming to the small, dimly-lit dive for years are not happy with the new changes.

“This place sucks now but I’m banned from every other spot in the city. You get drunk and kick one dog and all of a sudden you’re worse than Stalin,” said Bog Hill regular Jim Tracey. “You should’ve seen this bar in its hay day man. I did coke with Fat Mike here back in ‘91. Now there’s all these kids walking around with Xs on their hands drinking fucking seltzer, and I’m stuck sneaking in nips and doing them in the stall like a degenerate. I give Rob credit for still booking shows, but turns out most of the bands he books are only good when you’re shit piss drunk.”

Local man Brett Naples, who identifies as being in recovery, has started coming to Bog Hill after years of actively avoiding the establishment.

“It’s kinda weird that the walls are covered in alcohol paraphernalia, and that the floor is so sticky. But I’m just glad there’s finally a place in this neighborhood where I can go to shows without having beer spilled all over me,” said Naples. “It is pretty boring in here though. There were a couple of people playing Rock, Paper, Scissors in the corner, and another group having a Connect 4 tournament, it sort of makes me wish there was some element of drunken violence.”

At press time, a regular known as “Big Bob” was being kicked out of the bar for trying to smoke weed out of a Liquid Death can in the bathroom.

How NCIS Helped My Parents Accept My Goth Lifestyle

Posted on by Dan Kozuh

To say my adolescent years were tumultuous and rife with conflict would be an understatement. It’s not easy being a goth growing up in the suburbs of Tulsa, Oklahoma. Not only was I an outcast at school with my leather dog collar and pleather JNCOs, I found no solace in my own home.

To be fair, my parents are salt-of-the-earth folk who just couldn’t understand my heavy eyeliner and teased hair. To them, the industrial drone of Type O Negative coming from behind my door was just noise. But I had to be myself.

Then an angel in black wings arrived in the most unlikely of places: the character of Abby Sciuto on the crime drama NCIS. Played by the incomparable Pauley Perrette, Abby was the quick-witted, forensic genius that aided Leroy Gibbs and his special agents to solve naval crimes. But unlike most scientific pencil pushers, Abby was unabashedly goth in her choker collars, five-inch buckled boots, and skull paraphernalia.

While at first I felt that her cosmetic character qualities were a harmful representation of the goth community, I began to notice that my parent’s understanding of me had changed. After watching countless episodes on the USA network’s weekend marathons, I could see them soften to my way of life. All of a sudden, my black make-up stopped randomly being thrown in the trash and I didn’t feel the need to hide my Nick Cave poetry books anymore.

“Well if Abby can get a job with all of her… quirks, maybe you can too,” my father once said to me without looking away from the TV. My mother quipped, “She is so respectful to her coworkers and has such a proud work ethic. She’s also good with computers, just like you!”

Granted, in later episodes it’s revealed that Abby is a devout Catholic which actually set us back a few steps, as my mother believed she could use this to get me to go back to church. However, my mom has stopped saying that I, “used to look so pretty with my natural red hair.” Plus, my dad stopped burning my Bauhaus posters so I’ll take what I can get.

We’re Not a “Band” We’re a “Collective Who Suck at Playing Instruments”

Posted on by Eric Navarro

Music is more than just performance art. It is a state of being. It is a cohesive, universal experience that unites spirits and transcends the physical realm. Except for country. To call me and my tribe of creators a “band” is a grand understatement that minimizes the entire being of the artform itself. We are not a band. We are a collective who suck at playing instruments.

Music is subjective. People often classify the music we make as “bad” or “not music.” But that’s just one species’ opinion. But music exists on all planes of existence and I will continue meditating until I astral project to one where we’re appreciated.

Sure, we never learned how to play the top-of-the-line instruments our parents bought us when we moved into the compound that they also pay the mortgage on. But why should that matter? Our collective performs unique sound patterns that cannot be replicated. Not even by us. Some may call that incoherent noise but we consider it five souls uniting to express our shared consciousness. Much like our nightly conversations about how the world should be, which also gets called incoherent noise.

Regardless of the world’s ignorance of our art, we believe in being the change you want to see in the world. So please sign our petition to change “Bandcamp” to “Collectivecamp.” So far we have five signatures.

All in all, we don’t need the world’s approval to validate what we do. We know what we are and that’s what matters. We don’t need praise or money. Our rich parents provide more than enough of both.

Punk Mom Insists on Trashing Place Before Company Arrives

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

SAN BERNARDINO, Calif. — Lifelong punk and mother of three Annette “Annarchy” Gustavson reportedly insisted that her entire family exhaustively trash their home before company arrived, even if the place seemed pretty filthy already, sources close to the family confirmed.

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting the house to look like a goddamn wreck for once,” said Gustavson as she flipped the couch cushion over to the more stained side. “The way your house looks to your fellow punk friends and family reflects on you as a household. All I want is for my husband ‘Dreadful’ Ted and the kids to make sure the garbage is completely overflowing and leaking three-week-old chow mein juice and that there is dog fur all over the guest room, even though we don’t have a dog. Is that so much to ask? After all, I gave up my nipple piercings to breastfeed those kids, so this is the least they can do.”

Gustavson’s eldest child Melissa believed her mother was trying too hard to impress guests.

“Mom is always crazy insistent that the house be completely destroyed before anyone visits,” said the honor student. “Even if it’s just her dirtbag brother who’s always ‘touring,’ which really just means he’s been couch-surfing with a broken amp for a month. I don’t think I should have to put bed bugs in my own room just because the neighbors are coming over for a backyard rager. It’s not like anyone will be going in there unless they get so drunk they piss on my mattress. Again.”

Doctor Martha Carter, a behavioral therapist, was familiar with cases like the Gustavson family and their maternal need to have at least one window broken at all times.

“It is actually very common for punk moms to base their entire sense of self-worth on how filthy their houses are,” said Dr. Carter. “Just like traditional normcore American homemakers have long judged themselves and their peers by their ability to project pseudo-fetishistic imagery of 1950s society or rockabilly parents pride themselves in the height of their infant children’s quiffs, punk moms often only feel accomplished as parents by making sure their homes constantly teeter on the edge of legal condemnation. It’s perfectly normal.”

As of press time, Gustavson was freaking out that no one in the family had bothered to upper-decker their toilet before her in-laws visited for the weekend.

Woman Suffers Panic Attack Trying to Pack Week’s Worth of Relaxing Into One Sunday

Posted on by Tim Graham

NEW HAVEN, Conn. — Maryanne del Fuego was admitted to the hospital for what turned out to be a panic attack caused by a densely packed day of “fun,” according to her exhausted friends.

“I work upwards of 60 hours a week,” said del Fuego, 26, a marketing analyst. “So I usually have to jam all my relaxation and fun into a short period of time. Recently, I organized the perfect Sunday Funday for my friend group. First, we’d have brunch; then rent some bikes for a ride by the river. I blocked out 45 minutes for the farmer’s market, followed by kickball in the park and then drinks downtown. There was more, too. However, around midday, I started to have a hard time breathing, felt nauseous, and nearly passed out. The girls brought me to the hospital, even though I begged them not to. We hadn’t even gotten to the escape room!”

Friend Cynthia Smithwick was one of del Fuego’s companions on the lightning-paced day of relaxation.

“When she sent the schedule, I warned her she was flying too close to the sun,” said Smithwick. “I suggested we just stay in, get some pizza and wine and watch ‘FBoy Island.’ But Maryanne has, like, terminal FOMO and said that we needed to do ‘all the things’ and that ‘she can watch TV when she’s dead.’ The amount of Insta pics she was taking made me think that part of it was so her ex could see she was living her best life. I could tell things were going south when she freaked out about forgetting to schedule a cheese tasting. Then she started hyperventilating and sobbing.”

Psychologist Elliott Nance says that attempting to force too much fun or relaxation into a short span of time can be psychologically detrimental.

“We’re seeing a rise in panic-related cases correlated to this sort of behavior,” said Nance. “The data shows a sharp uptick on Sundays—the day before the work week begins for most. In fact, the official diagnosis of ‘Sunday Scaries’ was recently added to the DSM-5. The thing is that fun—much like a man’s acceptance of his second wife’s chronically unemployed adult child who still lives at home—is something that can’t be forced. It must come naturally.”

At press time, del Fuego had been observed driving west at high speed, chasing Sunday’s setting sun in an effort to stave off Monday for even a few moments more.

How To Tell Your Child About Their Role in Your Divorce

Posted on by Sean Fallon

So you and your partner have decided to call it quits. Maybe it’s a conscious uncoupling, maybe it’s a messy, drawn-out horror divorce the likes of which the courts have never seen. Either way, the important thing is to establish that it’s not your fault.

You’re a rational person who fell in love and by all rights would have stayed in love if it hadn’t been for a single mitigating factor: your child.

The arrival of a child can be a blessing. It brightens up the home, gives life an extra sense of purpose, and makes you consider your legacy in the world. It also means you have to skip band practice a few times a week until Paulie begins to get his back up about it and opts to bring in his nephew to play bass when you’re not there and then suddenly they’re playing gigs with Paulie’s nephew on bass and you’re out of the fucking band, just like that.

Divorce is hard on children, especially when you blame them for it entirely. Here are some tips on navigating this delicate situation:

Pick The Right Setting:
You don’t want your kid growing up remembering the time their dad blamed them for their failed marriage every time they see a McDonald’s play place. Pick somewhere special, like a scenic park or Disney World.

Be Upfront About The Fact That This Is Their Fault
It’s important to let the child know their role in the divorce so that they won’t make the same mistakes you did. After the obligatory “Mommy and Daddy still love you blah blah blah” really let them have it.

Break It Down:
There are a million ways to angrily say “This is all your fault you little shit!” and you should use a lot of them, but make sure you back up your outburst with empirical facts. For example, between colorful tirades of poetic blame and damnation, state the fact that every time you and your spouse were just about to fall in love with each other again, the child would cry or fall or something and need attention. Knowing is the only chance your kid has at improving. Lord knows you won’t be around to help!

Ice Cream
Get some ice cream. Kids like ice cream. And even if they’re not in the mood for ice cream after being verbally eviscerated and emotionally scarred forever, have yourself some anyway. That was a hard talk!

Review: Pantera “Far Beyond Driven”

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 Pantera’s seventh studio album “Far Beyond Driven.”

Pantera’s “Far Beyond Driven” has plenty of accolades. Aside from being certified Platinum and spawning classics like “I’m Broken” and “5 Minutes Alone,” it’s also objectively one of the top 5 albums to ever lead directly to my incarceration.

Seriously, in terms of records that got me thrown in the slammer, it’s up there with Metallica’s “Master of Puppets,” Megadeth’s “Rust in Peace,” and Steve Winwood’s “Back in the High Life.” And trust me, any album that gets me as fuckin’ rowdy and disorderly as my boy Winwood does…that’s a hell of an album.

You’re probably wondering how Pantera got me locked up in the first place. Well, it all started like a normal Tuesday. I woke up late, had my usual breakfast of pancakes and room temperature Budwesiers, and headed out for the day. This was back in ‘96, so I was still working at that factory that manufactured all the goods sold at Spencer’s Gifts. After years of busting my ass, I had finally climbed my way up to Assistant Supervisor of the Fart Machine Department.

Which, by the way, doesn’t really convey the level of responsibility we had. Technically, fart sprays also fell into our department, as did fart whistles, fake turds, and, for some reason, fleece blankets. It was a demanding, stressful work environment, and I went home every day reeking of synthetic farts.

Anyway, I was speeding down the highway, blasting “Far Beyond Driven” and drinking my usual commuting beverage, completely unrefrigerated Budweisers. And the Pantera was getting me so fucking pumped. By the time “Use My Third Arm” came on…well, I’m going to be honest. I only listened to the first couple songs on “Far Beyond Driven” and then I put some Winwood Nonethelessless, it was the combination of Dimebag and “Higher Love” that got me ready to roll into work and tell my boss that he could take this job and shove it.

Unfortunately, between the beers and the tunes, I neglected to notice that I had spent the past 15 minutes driving 90 mph through a crowded park. Apparently that’s illegal, even if almost everybody lives. “Far Beyond Driven” may have forced me to spend the next 20 years behind bars, but, honestly, it was still better than the Fart Machine Department.

SCORE: 4 out of 5 Piping Hot Budweisers

/**/

Lovesick Goth Looks Longingly At Pair Of Crows Eating Spilled Funyuns

Posted on by Jonah Nink

MINNEAPOLIS — Local goth Matilda Flowers spent the afternoon wistfully staring at a pair of crows eating a pile of Funyuns next to a dumpster yesterday, concerned sources reported.

“Oh, to have what they have,” sighed Flowers, who had recently gone through a breakup. “All I want is to spend a hot summer afternoon pecking away at sewage-soaked Funyuns with my beloved. Crows mate for life, so those two will be eating garbage together for eternity. Meanwhile, I had to go on a tinder date with a guy named Tanner last week. My soul yearns for just a taste of what these two dead-eyed birds have with each other. I don’t care how many sun-baked sidewalk pizzas I have to eat.”

Flowers’ long-time friend and fellow goth Rachel “The Raven” Williamson explained that a pair of crows is the ideal goth relationship.

“Crows have everything that goths don’t,” said Williamson. “For example, screaming at passing children from a tree branch is frowned upon if you’re human. Crows on the other hand get a free pass. It’s borderline unfair that crows can play inside roadkill and hang out in cemeteries while goths have to pay taxes and follow laws. Hell, a group of crows is literally called a ‘murder.’ Ever wondered where the inspiration for our sorrowful poetry comes from? It’s all crow envy.”

Ornithologist Joe Baxter explained that crows might not be the best birds to envy.

“I love it when people take an interest in the animals I study, but this may be too far,” said Baxter. “For years crows have been painted as these mystical creatures, but you have to remember that they’re just a bird that won’t hesitate to eat your garbage. Foraging might look fun and all, but in the end all it gives them is indigestion and parasites. That’s not poetry-worthy and neither is a bad case of ringworm. The only thing I’ll give on is the mating for life point, which is one thing our species sucks at.”

Flowers was later seen trying to flirt with another crow perched on a mailbox it had just shit on.

Could Insects Be the Protein Source of the Future for People Not as Wealthy as Me?

Posted on by Dan Rice

By our current projections, there will be 9.8 billion people on the planet by 2050. With such exponential population growth and World War 3 just refusing to start for some reason, we face a crisis of dwindling resources. How do we feed a population that high in a sustainable way? The solution may be in the dirt beneath your feet — bugs.

Insects are the most abundant and renewable protein source on the earth. If people started consuming bug meal as their primary food source we can not only combat starvation but reduce the carbon footprint of our species. To be clear, I’m not saying I will be eating bugs, I went to Yale. I mean you.

As I watch my UberEats driver drop my Wagyu steak and steamed vegetables through the slit in my window blinds, I can’t help but ask myself “What is he going to be eating 20 years from now that will keep him alive enough to keep delivering my delicious food?” Then it dawns on me that he can just eat fucking bugs.

As my stomach fills with expertly seared top-tier beef, I find myself more and more content with the image of my courier feeding himself and his children with live cockroaches.

It goes without saying that most people in the western world have a stigma against eating insects, but this is a cultural norm we need to overcome if we are going to survive the decades to come. Again, by “we” I mean “you.” I clear 500k a year for moving your money around and will always be able to afford real food so I can keep on knowing bugs are gross, but you can’t!

Obviously, we can’t expect the poor to just start eating raw bugs right out of the ground, even though that’s a cool idea that makes my penis erect. I’m talking about farm-grown insects processed into a ground meal with awesome flavors! We’re talking Chipotle fly larvae. We’re talking cool ranch beetles. How about baja blast crickets? You poors like when stuff is baja blasted, right?

Fucking eat bugs. Eat bugs now. Do it. Do it right in front of me, go on. Do it.