Man Almost Comfortable Enough With New Guitar to Fart In Front of It

Posted on by John Danek

COOKEVILLE, Tenn. — Cautious guitarist Samuel Tollins is almost ready to fart near his new Fender American Professional II Stratocaster after three months of being together, supportive friends report.

“Well, this Stratocaster is my first American-made, professional-quality guitar so I didn’t want to rush things,” admitted Tollins, who botched previous relationships by getting too comfortable too soon with an Orange Tiny Terror amplifier, and a Digitech Whammy pedal. “I call her Darla, which is actually unrelated to my ex-girlfriend Darla. Seriously. Anyways, my cheap Epiphone SG has seen me at my worst so I know it won’t judge me: food poisoning, vomiting on my bed, etc. I’m almost ready to take the same plunge with my Darlacaster. I’ve been making excuses that I need to check something in my car for weeks, but I feel comfortable around it and think it might be time.”

Friends attempted to encourage Tollins with words of wisdom and tales of personal experience.

“Relationships come in many different varieties. I prefer to keep my relationships with my instruments sexy and classy, so I’ll never fart in front of my Stingray basses,” said Janice Owens, who puts her basses in their cases before burping. “But for some people like Samuel, doing gross stuff is endearing. I don’t personally get it, but maybe that’s just my Catholic upbringing. Good for him. But remember, once you fart in front of your guitar, there’s no turning back. It will never look at you the same.”

Musicologists weighed in on the pros and cons of getting too comfortable around your gear.

“It’s an important step in your relationship with your instruments—fart too early, and it will judge you as a disgusting slob forever,” said Dr. Taylor Yard, professor of music at University of Tennessee. “But wait too long, and you’ll never be able to feel truly comfortable at home. You’ll be sneaking to the bathroom to fart, or changing behind a privacy screen like 18th-century royalty just to avoid the judgment of the guitars, basses, and drum kits who should provide you with happiness and joy.”

As of press time, Tollins has reportedly made the decision to break the ice and wind tonight with a last-minute trip to Taco Bell.

You either Die a Scene Legend or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become the Merch Guy

Posted on by Ciara Murphy

When determining the most admired person at a local show, it could easily come down to a toss-up between the front man and the bartender. The least respected might be more easily identified as the Merch Guy. The man who sits behind a wonky table, hoping someone might convince themselves that they need a Fever Krust t-shirt and throw him a crumpled note to put in his little red tin.

How do you go from being the life and soul of the scene to the dead-behind-the-eyes pile of beard hawking crap at the back of the room? Joe ‘Pockets’ McGill knows all too well…

The Hard Times: Hey man! We almost didn’t see you there. How’s business?
Merch Guy: Some guy who wanted to buy a wristband just asked me if I take card so I had to spit on his shoe. I’d call it a busy night.

Tell us, how does a guy like you land this job anyway?
I used to be a name around here, people knew me. Pockets they’d call me, because during every show people would throw so much beer on me that I’d drink it from my pockets at the end of the night.

That’s… awesome.
Our shows were always packed. We really thought we were gonna make it big, y’know? Then, all of a sudden, the younger, tamer bands started drawing bigger crowds. Before I knew it, I was only getting on stage if they needed a hand setting up their 13 guitar pedals.

Did you enjoy being a roadie?
I definitely liked swapping out the drummers’ ride cymbal for an extra crash, just to see them squirm when they’d accidentally make some actual noise. But once I hit 60, all that heavy lifting had really done a number on my back. It was fucked up man but all I really wanted was a spot to sit down.

And you decided to step down to a Merch Guy position?
Nobody “chooses” this shit it just happens. I found a chair in the back and sat for one of the shows. Suddenly the band had a table set up in front of me and expected me to guard a tin of cash during their set. I took that responsibility seriously and sealed my fate as the merch guy.


Do you have any advice for any aspiring merch guy out there?
If there is anyone reading this who actually wants to do this job, I would urge you to re- evaluate your life choices. I could be living it up with a wife and pension at this stage of my life but instead I sit here and try to sell enough t-shirts so that I can get a pack of PBR and some Advil at the end of the night. I don’t even enjoy the shows anymore, not since lead singers stopped spittin’.

Well, thanks for talking with us, it has been a pleasure.
Hey, aren’t you gonna buy something? I just spilled my guts to you!

Sorry, Fever Krust just finished their set and I would really like to interview someone that people might actually want to read about.
Swine!

Okay I guess I wouldn’t mind shilling out for a t-shirt.
That’s more like it.

Do you take cards?

You can find Joe ‘Pockets’ McGill at a little table at the back of most shows in Electric Avenue on 5 th Street. If you pay him a visit, we recommend bringing cash.

You either Die a Scene Legend or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become the Merch Guy

Posted on by Ciara Murphy

When determining the most admired person at a local show, it could easily come down to a toss-up between the front man and the bartender. The least respected might be more easily identified as the Merch Guy. The man who sits behind a wonky table, hoping someone might convince themselves that they need a Fever Krust t-shirt and throw him a crumpled note to put in his little red tin.

How do you go from being the life and soul of the scene to the dead-behind-the-eyes pile of beard hawking crap at the back of the room? Joe ‘Pockets’ McGill knows all too well…

The Hard Times: Hey man! We almost didn’t see you there. How’s business?
Merch Guy: Some guy who wanted to buy a wristband just asked me if I take card so I had to spit on his shoe. I’d call it a busy night.

Tell us, how does a guy like you land this job anyway?
I used to be a name around here, people knew me. Pockets they’d call me, because during every show people would throw so much beer on me that I’d drink it from my pockets at the end of the night.

That’s… awesome.
Our shows were always packed. We really thought we were gonna make it big, y’know? Then, all of a sudden, the younger, tamer bands started drawing bigger crowds. Before I knew it, I was only getting on stage if they needed a hand setting up their 13 guitar pedals.

Did you enjoy being a roadie?
I definitely liked swapping out the drummers’ ride cymbal for an extra crash, just to see them squirm when they’d accidentally make some actual noise. But once I hit 60, all that heavy lifting had really done a number on my back. It was fucked up man but all I really wanted was a spot to sit down.

And you decided to step down to a Merch Guy position?
Nobody “chooses” this shit it just happens. I found a chair in the back and sat for one of the shows. Suddenly the band had a table set up in front of me and expected me to guard a tin of cash during their set. I took that responsibility seriously and sealed my fate as the merch guy.


Do you have any advice for any aspiring merch guy out there?
If there is anyone reading this who actually wants to do this job, I would urge you to re- evaluate your life choices. I could be living it up with a wife and pension at this stage of my life but instead I sit here and try to sell enough t-shirts so that I can get a pack of PBR and some Advil at the end of the night. I don’t even enjoy the shows anymore, not since lead singers stopped spittin’.

Well, thanks for talking with us, it has been a pleasure.
Hey, aren’t you gonna buy something? I just spilled my guts to you!

Sorry, Fever Krust just finished their set and I would really like to interview someone that people might actually want to read about.
Swine!

Okay I guess I wouldn’t mind shilling out for a t-shirt.
That’s more like it.

Do you take cards?

You can find Joe ‘Pockets’ McGill at a little table at the back of most shows in Electric Avenue on 5 th Street. If you pay him a visit, we recommend bringing cash.

“Sure, I’ll Check Out Primus” Says Person on Worst Date of Their Life

Posted on by Jonah Nink

CARBONDALE, Ill. — Area woman Meg Sebastian conceded that she would “check out Primus” in a desperate bid to end what she would later call the “worst date I will ever go on.”

“Marty Flannel’s Hinge profile was full of green flags. He had a job, dressed well and you could definitely see a bedframe in the background of a few pictures,” said Sebastian. “He wanted to meet at this bowling alley, which sounded fun at first, but he didn’t want to do any bowling. Marty just really liked their shitty pizza, which he ate by peeling off the cheese and rolling the sauce-covered dough into little balls. He spent the rest of the date raving about Primus, with the occasional break to show me an ‘American Dad’ clip off his iPad.”

“I panicked and said that I would check Primus out, thinking that it was the only thing that would stop him from killing me. I had to pay for everything because they wouldn’t accept his Robinhood card, but I was just happy to be done with it,” she added.”

Sebastian’s friends had warned her about dating Flannel.

“I told her not to even bother with this date but Meg wouldn’t listen,” said Stan Halpert, who had also gone on a miserable date with Flannel. “He reels you in with his flirty texts and good looks. You think he might be the one, and then bam; you’re 35 minutes into a rant about ‘Sailing the Sea of Cheese’ or something called The Les Claypool Frog Brigade. Seriously, what the fuck does any of that mean?”

Flannel insisted that he was simply trying to share his music tastes, and will not be reaching out about possibly connecting for a second date.

“Too often am I forced to educate the laymen on the intricacies of Primus,” said Flannel. “Much like the pizza at Skippy’s Bowling Lanes, albums like ‘Frizzle Fry’ and ‘Pork Soda’ are too nuanced and masterful for most to comprehend. I don’t listen to anything else, just like I don’t eat anything besides square pizza. If my date doesn’t understand that, then they are clearly unfit for my loins.”

At press time, Sebastian was seen fleeing from a coffee shop after her date mentioned he “really thinks Porcupine Tree is underrated.”

Near-Death Experience Causes Man to Quit Drinking for the Rest of This Week

Posted on by Dom Turek

MUNCIE, Ind. — A local man’s brush with death after drunkenly falling from a third-story balcony on Tuesday inspired him to quit drinking for the rest of this week, according to sources who witnessed the incident.

“Almost dying was exactly the incentive I needed to quit drinking for the next few days,” said Dave Walden from his hospital bed at St. Mary’s Medical Center. “When you try to control your drinking, your drinking controls you, which is why I’ve decided to get serious and quit cold turkey for an entire business week. I’m technically not allowed to drink on these pain medications anyway, so the timing works out perfectly.”

Walden miraculously suffered only minor injuries after falling three stories into a pile of garbage bags after betting his friends a case of beer that the balcony railing could hold the weight of a grown man.

“As soon as I saw the wood start to splinter, I knew I would never see my security deposit again,” said Derek Harper, Walden’s friend. “It’s crazy to think that if I followed my building’s waste management protocol and took my garbage out to the curb every week instead of letting it pile into a massive heap, Dave could be dead right now. I support his sobriety as long as he comes through with that case of beer he owes us.”

Midway through assessing Walden for signs of head trauma, Kim Lopez, the EMS coordinator on-site was struck with deja vu after realizing she’d evaluated Walden six months earlier in the parking lot of a Buffalo Wild Wings.

“I’m surprised he’s still drinking after the flaming shot incident,” said Lopez. “It looks like the skin on his ear is growing back nicely. Anytime we’re dealing with alcohol-related injuries, we’re required to recommend substance abuse counseling to the victim once they’re coherent, or at least suggest they stop trying to light their drinks on fire.”

At press time, Walden was seen lugging a mostly-full case of beer over to Harper’s apartment.

Drummer Uncomfortable With Electronic Kit That Moans Pleasurably Each Time He Hits It

Posted on by Char Byram

NEW YORK — Percussion enthusiast Jeffery Saunders was disturbed to discover his new electronic drum kit let out sounds of sexual excitement each time his drumsticks touched one of the sensors, confirmed sources trying to help reprogram the kit.

“As soon as I put on my headphones I knew something was wrong. It sort of sounded like I was hearing shallow, anticipatory breaths but I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from,” said Saunders. “As soon as I sat down to play a few simple beats, I noticed the pads kept making these erotic sounds after every hit. I wanted to give it a chance and try something new, but I don’t know if this is for me. It’s making me feel weird, especially after it started moaning ‘Oh yeah, hit me again,’ and ‘Harder, harder!’ When the kit called me ‘daddy’ after a blast beat I immediately unplugged it and looked up the return policy.”

Matt Daily, CEO of Hot N’ Heavy Beats—the manufacturer of the electronic drum kit—insists the key feature is clearly stated in the product’s description and that customers who don’t want an arousable drum kit ought to be more discerning with their purchases.

“We hear this a lot from people who don’t really ‘get’ our mission, which is to make a high quality, touch-sensitive electronic drum set that sighs lustfully whenever you take your big sticks and play with it,” said Daily while biting his lower lip. “If you want a regular, non-erotic drum kit, there are obviously plenty you can choose from on the market. We’re cultivating a sensual experience for drummers everywhere, and we feel that it’s bringing the passion back into their lives. Besides, anyone who gets upset at having a drum kit express itself in a salacious manner is just being a prude.”

Sex therapist Dr. Ellen Brodowski believes this can actually be a healthy practice, further strengthening the bond between drummers and their equipment.

“However difficult it may be to open up about it, having a drum kit that audibly conveys its prurient desires could be a way for drummers to really form a deeper connection with their instrument,” said Dr. Brodowski while lightly running a brush over his electronic snare drum. “Oftentimes the relationship between a drummer and the drum can become strained, or there might be miscommunication, so being able to listen to the kit and hear what its sensual preferences are might be a step towards positive growth within that dynamic.”

Hot N’ Heavy Beats are currently developing an update to their electronic bass drum which will demand you spit on it every time it’s played.

Body Positivity Win! One of the Women Being Objectified in This Music Video Is Fat

Posted on by Cathy Herbert

Skinny binches you’ve been warned, the reign of the fat queen is at hand! Pop punk sensations Juice Monkey have announced that the video for their new song “The Bus To Busttown” will be presenting a fat woman as a sexual object right alongside the standard thin dancers.

The video will feature seven women — including one BBW goddess — naked and painted like sex robots simulating fellatio on the band while wearing blindfolds; proving once and for all that fat women are fully sexual creatures worthy of the male gaze. You go girls!

We dropped by the set for some exclusive interviews with the pioneers behind this groundbreaking work of body positivity.

“We’re very happy to be able to sell a whole new generation of young men an oversimplified, service-oriented version of female sexuality that includes fat women,” said producer Guy Dickholder. “It’s time. “Yass male feminist king!

This may be Juice Monkey’s first foray into fat sexy slay, but some heroic members of the band have been championing fat acceptance for a while. Swoonworthy frontman Scrud Humpley has been cushion pushin’ since before their big break.

“I always felt so alone in my love of the fat feminine form,” he said. “All through senior year of high school, I had to hide the fact that I was making out with Hefty Betsy in the art closet on my third-period spare because I was so afraid of the ridicule I would face if people knew I was a chubby chaser. I hope that this video will empower young boys to be more open about and even proud of the types of girls they get off to.”

Omg, the thought of emo teenaged Scrud hiding his true self from the world has us literally weeping. We would have gained the freshman fifteen for you early, Scrud.

Kelsey Fletcher, the big fat boss bitch who will be featured in the video, was discovered by the band when she applied for a sound tech position on their last tour.

“I was not expecting them to ask me to be in a video,” she said on a break from shooting to touch up her butthole makeup. “I was like this has to be a mistake or a prank, no one has ever called me sexy before. But since we started rehearsing I’ve come to realize that I am worthy of being called sexy. I do have a desirable body. I am a valuable commodity.”

Get it Kelsey! You can’t stop a twenty ton truck. This girl is fat, fierce, and fucking up the thiniarchy and we are Here. For. It. We’re hells jells of all that juicy Juice Monkey dick you’re gonna get at the wrap party, Queen. Save a slice for us!

“The Bus To Busttown” drops next week. A portion of ad proceeds from the video will be donated to Hogs For Hogs, Juice Monkey’s charity that provides unsolicited dick pics to plus sized women.

Spotify CEO Receives Gift Basket of Elk Meat and Testosterone Injections From Secret Admirer

Posted on by Cory Cousins

NEW YORK — An air of mystery and excitement pervaded CEO Daniel Ek’s office as he was delivered a gift basket of elk meat and testosterone injections from a secret admirer, Ek’s executive assistant confirmed.

“You know, I was actually feeling a little low today with all of the negative press my company has been receiving lately, but I must confess, I’m tickled by this gesture,” admitted Ek. “People think that just because I’m worth billions of dollars I don’t enjoy the little things. Look, they even included a note with the basket. It reads: ‘Mahalo Mr. Ek, you are the most epic of CEOs. You operate on a whole other astral plane of energies that is both Zen-like and inspiring, unlike that old farty pants Neil Young. Big thanks for the millions of dollars!’ Such kind words. I must know the identity of this masked Lothario!”

As news of the sumptuous gift basket spread amongst Spotify employees, rumors began to spread as to who may have been behind the thoughtful offering.

“I bet you a zillion dollars it was Simon Cowell!” barked branding specialist, Aspyn Vandenberg. “It’s a no-brainer if you ask me. He comes across as so gruff, but I bet he’s a real sweetheart when you get to know him. Or maybe it was Pete Davidson? He’s everywhere these days. Ugh, I can’t make up my mind now.”

Others in the CEO community made it known that they were a bit jealous of the special treatment the music streaming mogul was receiving.

“What makes him so special that he gets to be the star in his own rom-com?” sulked Goldman Sachs CEO, David Solomon. “Whenever I get a gift, it’s like they’re not even trying. How many diamond-encrusted cigarette boats does one man really need? Would it kill them to think of something unique? Just go on Etsy for like two seconds. It’s not that hard!”

In the wake of the success of the initial gift basket, the unknown admirer followed up with a platter of CBD oils, mushroom coffee, and a one year supply of Ivermectin.

Opinion: Sometimes a Cigar Is Just a Cigar, Even When I Smoke It Through a Glory Hole

Posted on by Peter Woods

Freud definitely called it back in the day: everywhere you look, we’re surrounded by phallic symbols. And, subconsciously, we’re all drawn to these penile stand-ins. But Freud also said that “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” because not everything is about sex all the time.

I agree with him on this. Like this cigar here? It’s just a cigar. Even if I am smoking it through this truck stop bathroom glory hole.

To be clear, I don’t want to slutshame anyone. If you want to go down on some anonymous D in a filthy public location, go to town! Just make sure you suck random dick safely and with consent! But engaging in anonymous sex acts is not something I secretly fantasize about, consciously or subconsciously. I just enjoy smoking a cigar without being able to see the other end or the smoke coming out. And the easiest way I can think of to do that is to have someone slide one of these bad boys into a glory hole for me.

I also just like seeing how much of this huge Cuban I can fit into my mouth and down my throat. You know, for fun!

I realize that smoking a cigar through a glory hole might be a sexual thing for some people. Fetishes come in all shapes and sizes, and maybe someone gets off on smoking stogies this way. If that’s you then hey, more power to ya! That’s just not me. It’s not a sex thing. I just want to smoke cigars for the sake of smoking cigars and I want to do it through a glory hole. And maybe sometimes I like to put on a blindfold and not ask any questions and just trust that the person on the other side is going to put a cigar in the glory hole (like I implied!) and not something else that I won’t recognize until I get my lips around it.

Because who doesn’t like a surprise every once and a while!

So yeah, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and the reason I am at this glory hole is to smoke cigars. But if anyone here does want to get deepthroated, feel free to meet me out back where I can see you and I’ll blow you to high heaven, especially if you kind of remind me of my mom.

Cyclist Wearing Helmet Survives Crash Only to Look Like a Fucking Dweeb the Whole Time

Posted on by Harley Murgatroyd

RICHMOND — Local cyclist, Peter Williams, survived a collision with an unoccupied van parked on a heavily-trafficked street late this morning thanks to his bicycle helmet, which left him looking significantly dweeby throughout the entire ordeal.

“He’s very lucky, I feel like he wouldn’t have walked away from this accident if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet,” witness Melissa Morgan stated. “But, you know, it just kinda sucks how stupid he looked. I mean, my kids had to see his weird body fly over the hood of that van with that plastic helmet, like, clipped onto his head. How am I supposed to explain this to them? Surprise, kids! Here’s the world’s dumbest Evel Knievel incarnate? Ugh.”

The accident took place in front of Williams’s workplace, GWARBar, where he previously served as a bartender.

“Our bar may be covered in piss and blood, and we expect our staff to reflect those values when serving our devoted-by-chemical dependency customers,” stated the bar manager. “We all talked about it for no less than two minutes before coming to the unanimous decision to demote Williams to bar-back following the accident. Yeah, we’re glad he’s not seriously injured, but we just can’t have any dorky-ass, safety-first-looking motherfuckers being the face of our establishment. COVID hit us hard enough, no thanks.”

Once the crowd of bystanders composed themselves and stopped pointing and laughing, Williams was rushed to the hospital where doctors gave him a mostly clean bill of health.

“The doctor told me I’m physically ok, but it’s gonna take years to get over this social status trauma,” he said. “I don’t think it was totally necessary to include ‘Diagnosis: soft little baby body’ to my discharge report, but the nurses seemed to think so, so what can you do? I’m just glad I left my money belt at home today or I may have just had to drive into oncoming traffic by choice.”

Williams was last seen in his helmet unironically riding one of those stupid electronic scooters on a public sidewalk, probably to some dweeby adult baby store or something.