If Alcohol Ruins Families, Why Is Mine Only Tolerable When I’m Drunk?

Posted on by Bobby Korec

They say that alcohol destroys families. But it’s the only thing keeping mine together. I would know, as someone who is always within arms reach of a bottle whenever I make my annual call to them.

Listen, I know that abusing alcohol is completely detrimental to you and those around you, but I’m only drowning my internal organs with literal poison for my family. In fact, I don’t even like drinking. But you try sitting through your dad’s long-winded rant about election fraud or how Antifa was actually responsible for the January 6 riots without being at least a few beers deep.

When your mom compares wearing masks to the holocaust that she also claims only “supposedly” happened, it’s just nice to have some booze in your system as she mentally struggles to explain her logic through straw-man arguments she learned from memes.

Believe me, I would give anything to be in one of those families that don’t need alcohol to love each other. But unfortunately, I’m drunk right now because I just came from a family reunion. It’s almost like alcohol is some magic elixir that helps you power through all the QAnon bullshit your uncle says at family gatherings.

All I know is that you only get one family, which is kind of the problem here. If I had to choose, I would be in one of those families that were rich. That seems nice. I wonder how much those types of families need to drink in order to bear with each other. Probably a lot, right? But at least you have all that money to afford top-shelf cocktails. Worth it.

Anyway, you can say that booze is the glue that is keeping my family together. It’s just too bad that alcohol also kills you and causes you to make terrible decisions, because it actually does wonders when bonding with your family.

Tiny Free Library Bans Tiny Man for Masturbating to Tiny Porn

Posted on by Collin Canning

BIRMINGHAM, Ala. — A tiny, free public library at the foot of a residential driveway was forced to ban an extremely small man who was caught masturbating to itty-bitty pornography on the premises, equally small sources confirm.

“I took this job at Mr. Chisholm’s tiny free library because no other place would hire a librarian under an inch tall. I figured I’d be dealing minuscule hipsters coming in requesting tiny Bukowski and bringing teensy weensy macchiatos into the itty-bitty YA section, but instead I have sex offenders using the place as their personal jerk shack,” said pocket-sized librarian Ms. Schmidt while adjusting her infinitesimally small glasses. “Like, look around! All that we have here is Danielle Steele novels, a couple cookbooks and a half-filled out Mad Libs. I never would have expected this library would turn into a den of filth. But here I am, calling the cops on tiny perverts using the free wifi to look at tiny porn and exposing their tiny members to others”

The pint-sized man who was caught pleasuring himself believes that more must be done to make these kinds of services welcome to everyone.

“If I can’t crank one out here, where can I crank one out?” asked the man who refused to identify himself. “The last spot I used to ‘tame the snake’ had red ants that could tear your body in half. If these places are truly open to the public I would expect a certain amount of tolerance for people who just need to find an indoor place to polish their knob. It’s only proper.”

Connor Chisholm, who erected the tiny library in his driveway, has expressed regret and suggested that he may be in over his head.

“I never could have imagined building the free library in my yard would come with so many responsibilities,” said Chisholm, reviewing Ms. Schmidt’s proposal for improved implementation of the Dewey Decimal System. “I thought it would be fun to provide people in my neighborhood with some free books, reading material should be made available to everyone! But every time I leave my house it’s like an X-rated ‘Indian in the Cupboard’ out there, and frankly, after learning that small men are relieving themselves to tiny Hustlers in my driveway I am second guessing this whole thing. I think it’s time to pull the plug… but not like… ‘pull the plug’ if you know what I mean.”

At press time, the library was cordoned off with teensy-weensy police tape after the discovery of approximately 0.001 grams of cannabis in the tiny library bathroom.

I Get Older, the Guys in My Band Stay the Same Age

Posted on by Eric Navarro

Oiright, oiright, oiright. You know what I love about the local scene? Every four years it completely refreshes. Kids graduate from high school and move on while another group of kids enter high school and join the scene. But not me. Year after year, I remain in the same scene playing the same songs in the same band, just with new members.

See, that’s what I love about these local musicians. I get older, the guys in my band stay the same age.

Four years after I started my band, The Pop Culture References, I was shocked and awed when the rest of my bandmates graduated and went on to college, work, or rehab. At first, I was furious. To me, they were sellouts and traitors to the scene. How dare they only work to help me accomplish my dreams for four years! It was the darkest summer of my life.

That is, until school started back up again and an entirely new group of kids were bringing their guitars to my old high school that I still visit sometimes to catch up on my smoking. I chatted up some of these new fellas and I was impressed to see their enthusiasm for a scene that I thought had completely disappeared the second I stopped playing shows. I have to admit, just a few years ago I would have called them posers, but there was just something about how desperate I was to suspend my adolescence that made me really take a shine to this new crop of scene kids.

Well, after experiencing several cycles of the scene’s death and rebirth, I have a zen-like appreciation for both the lifecycle of the Howard County music scene, and a more mature understanding of the nature of the world itself. I have witnessed my world die and be reborn so many times that time has become meaningless. And I’ll say that again and again to anyone who tries to tell me I should be practicing with a metronome.

I’m basically a punk-time God. I struggle to relate to these mere scene mortals. Like me, my band remains eternal. At some practices, I look around at the interchangeable, faceless mass that is my bandmates and understand why Doctor Manhattan plummeted into nihilism. They may be in the scene now, but to me, they have already graduated.

So here I stand, arms crossed in the back of yet another poorly attended weeknight bar show, staring out at a sea of eternal youth. For I, the only person in here who can legally drink, am the overseer. I always was. I will forever be. For I am a God among freshmen.

Bruce Springsteen Admits He Made Up the “American Working Class” During a Creative Dry Spell

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

COLTS NECK TOWNSHIP, N.J. — Legendary musician Bruce Springsteen recently admitted that he made up the “American working class” during a creative dry spell.

“By ‘78, I had hit a wall with my songwriting,” said an entirely denim-clad Springsteen. “‘Blinded by the Light’ hadn’t charted. Hell, ‘Born to Run’ couldn’t even crack the top twenty. I had completely lost confidence in myself and was just throwing out ideas to the guys in the band. I pitched ‘a place where animals can talk and it’s always Winter,’ but Max Weinberg told me that was just Narnia. I tried writing this epic eight-minute ballad about how Belgians were all illiterate, and that upset Clarence Clemmons so much he almost quit. Then I just said ‘working…class…Americans,’ and the room changed. It was electric.”

Springsteen’s longtime manager Jon Landau heaped praise on his client.

“Bruce is a visionary,” Landau said. “No one but him could have come up with the idea of some mythical social caste of Americans who earn wages via labor, but are able to afford mortgages, car payments and the basic necessities of modern life. Frankly, I was blown away by even the concept of it. The man was basically writing science fiction, but in a way that connected with audiences who were hungry for concerts that last so long you can get fucking blasted and still leave sober.”

“He’s a genius and if you need proof, check out my house in Malibu,” Landau added.

Sociologist Brandon McCarthy viewed the musician’s work as a kind of magical thinking.

“Springsteen’s imagination was so powerful that it nearly created reality,” McCarthy explained. “Not an actual one, of course. America could never and would never support its own workers with a lifestyle remotely sustainable or humane, but songs like ‘The Promised Land’ and ‘The River’ built a kind of cultural shadow-memory that such a thing had ever existed and was remotely possible. Truly, the power of art is nearly limitless. Of course, it is very limited, but you know what I mean.”

As of press time, Springsteen was explaining how he came up with the idea of “New Jersey” after getting wasted in “a shitty part” of Delaware.

We Sat Down With a Jazz Band and Now We Can’t Stop This Heat, Daddio, Please Help

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

Get this, hepcats: we sat down with one of the red hot jazz combos of our times, the Frankie Tops Quintet, and wouldn’t you know it, we couldn’t stop the heat those wild, wild jazz cats were bringing and now it’s in us and please help us, daddio, this is hell.

It was just a routine interview assignment, and we didn’t think much about it, other than we thought it would be a real draaaaaag, man. We got to the spot where it all happens, which is to say the jazz club where the FTs were doing their thing, and as soon as we started asking Frankie Tops questions, this strange thing took over and now we can’t stop. We can’t stop what is happening, you dig me?

Oh, god.

We started with a real jive question about keepin’ it on the eight, because back then we were real slow on the down low, but Frankie made eye contact with us and it was like our legs turned to groovy jell-o, man. We started talking like this, and the band laughed real weird, like a bunch of dewdrops in their glad rags, hear?

Skee, skee skiddily bop!

Then we started talking like this, Johnny Kiss, and it won’t stop happening and we can’t stop and we’re scared and dig that far-out sound of the double bass going blunk blunk blunk! We tried to clap our hands to indicate that the band had stopped playing, but we could only snap our finger, which is so dumb. We ain’t throwing no applesauce on that, and ain’t no one got the beat like Rick Thumbs, the drummer of the quintet?

How did we know that name? And where did this beret come from?

Daddio, this is a living torment. We can’t exist solely as jazz cats be-bopping and telling it to Sweeney! Please! Kill us! Please put us out of our red-hot misery!

It’s the screams we’re not screaming!

Local Man Offers Decoy Compliment on Set Before Launching Into His Thoughts

Posted on by Melissa McGlensey

NEW YORK — Local musician Kelly Evans fell victim to the age-old compliment decoy trap when a man quickly pivoted to unsolicited advice after complimenting her band’s set, sources confirmed.

“I should’ve known better. Normally I can spot his kind a mile away and know how to avoid them. But he tricked me,” Evans said. “He started with a compliment. It made it seem like he actually listened to us up there, so I was caught off guard. He said I was really ‘in the pocket.’ Then, before I could stop him, he started breaking down all the things he thought I did wrong. It was everything from the shoes I wore on stage, to the brand of guitar pick I use, and even our band name. He had so many thoughts.”

A witness to the event confirmed that Evans appeared to be stuck listening to the man for nearly a quarter of an hour.

“I came out of the show and saw her trying to pack up her stuff,” recalled Sean Gullif, a fan of the band. “I was going to say ‘great set’ as I walked by but then I saw that she had her hands full with some dude already. Can you believe the nerve of that guy? When I walked past, I could hear him critiquing her finger picking. I found that surprising, because her finger picking was great! Now, her strumming, on the other hand…”

Fellow musician Anita Jones said this kind of thing happens “all the time.”

“If I had a dollar for every time some douchebag metalhead wanted to give me ‘notes’ after a show, I’d have enough money to make up for the gender pay gap,” Jones said. “Once, this guy came up to me after a gig, said ‘great job,’ and then immediately started telling me he thought I held my bass wrong. He said I needed to readjust the length of my strap, that I should try to keep my legs hip’s distance apart, for some reason. Thing is, I play drums. He did end up instinctively transitioning into showing me proper form to deadlift, and now I’m maxing out at 340, so not all’s lost.”

At press time, the man in question was mistaken for no less than 26 other men in attendance that evening accused of doing the same thing.

Pope Worried Punishing French Bishops Will Only Make Them Hornier

Posted on by Freelancer

VATICAN CITY — Pope Francis admitted to being concerned that punishing the French clergy responsible for decades of sexual abuse of minors may only make them hornier, according to sources within the Vatican.

“Those who are guilty must live with the shame of the pain they have caused to these young people, and the dishonor they have brought upon the Church; but if we were to punish them with legal action or exposure, it may serve to only titillate those naughty priests further,” His Holiness Pope Francis decreed to the Roman Curia. “Surely, the greater punishment would be to relocate these evildoers somewhere in the French countryside, where, unknown to those communities, they would have to brood in their secret guilt among the world-class wineries and quaint patisseries.”

Gerard Roussel, a leading member of the commission that generated the bombshell report documenting decades of abuse by French clergy, agreed with the Pope’s assessment.

“Our findings of more than 200,000 victims of Catholic priests in France is absolutely horrific, but swift action to combat these wrongs would fly in the face of Catholic dogma,” Roussel argued. “The French bishops’ response to these allegations for years has been to cover them up, to protect the Church at all costs. To change that strategy now and disrupt the time-honored traditions of victim blaming and deceit would be to go against everything the Church stands for. Plus, these guys are total pervs. They probably want to be yelled at or whipped. Maybe even tied up and told they are going to Hell like the sick, sad, dirty boys that they are.”

Samir Donovan, a journalist who has covered the Church’s abuse scandal extensively, said that the link between shame and arousal within the clergy may go back centuries.

“Catholic priests are basically experts in shame-related kink, particularly in Europe. Many have extensive knowledge of medieval torture, a pathological disdain for their own corporeal urges, and profound shame around expressing any sexuality,” Donovan explained. “It’s impossible to know if predators are drawn to the Church, or if the Church’s policies draw out predatory behavior — probably both — but the guilty parties need to be punished, no matter how much it turns them on.”

At press time, a collection of Cardinals were hard at work selecting ceremonial ball gags for the priests to wear for the remainder of the investigation.

Pope Worried Punishing French Bishops Will Only Make Them Hornier

Posted on by Freelancer

VATICAN CITY — Pope Francis admitted to being concerned that punishing the French clergy responsible for decades of sexual abuse of minors may only make them hornier, according to sources within the Vatican.

“Those who are guilty must live with the shame of the pain they have caused to these young people, and the dishonor they have brought upon the Church; but if we were to punish them with legal action or exposure, it may serve to only titillate those naughty priests further,” His Holiness Pope Francis decreed to the Roman Curia. “Surely, the greater punishment would be to relocate these evildoers somewhere in the French countryside, where, unknown to those communities, they would have to brood in their secret guilt among the world-class wineries and quaint patisseries.”

Gerard Roussel, a leading member of the commission that generated the bombshell report documenting decades of abuse by French clergy, agreed with the Pope’s assessment.

“Our findings of more than 200,000 victims of Catholic priests in France is absolutely horrific, but swift action to combat these wrongs would fly in the face of Catholic dogma,” Roussel argued. “The French bishops’ response to these allegations for years has been to cover them up, to protect the Church at all costs. To change that strategy now and disrupt the time-honored traditions of victim blaming and deceit would be to go against everything the Church stands for. Plus, these guys are total pervs. They probably want to be yelled at or whipped. Maybe even tied up and told they are going to Hell like the sick, sad, dirty boys that they are.”

Samir Donovan, a journalist who has covered the Church’s abuse scandal extensively, said that the link between shame and arousal within the clergy may go back centuries.

“Catholic priests are basically experts in shame-related kink, particularly in Europe. Many have extensive knowledge of medieval torture, a pathological disdain for their own corporeal urges, and profound shame around expressing any sexuality,” Donovan explained. “It’s impossible to know if predators are drawn to the Church, or if the Church’s policies draw out predatory behavior — probably both — but the guilty parties need to be punished, no matter how much it turns them on.”

At press time, a collection of Cardinals were hard at work selecting ceremonial ball gags for the priests to wear for the remainder of the investigation.

I Don’t Care What That Flyer Says, This Isn’t a Punkhouse So Please Stop Walking in on My Family During Dinner

Posted on by Kevin Tit

I’ve worked hard to provide a good life for my family. Forty years of blood, sweat, and tears were poured on that factory floor so that I could put this roof over our heads and ensure we have food on the table every night. No fancy sports cars or nothing. The only luxury I strive to afford is some peace and quiet. That’s why, for the last time, I don’t care what that damn flyer says; this is not a punkhouse, so you need to get the hell out of here and tell all your friends to stop walking in on my family during dinner!

I don’t even know what the hell a “Macaroni House” is. This ain’t it, though. This is my house. My name’s on the lease and it ain’t Macaroni. I actually find it pretty offensive that people see my house and think this might be some sort of gross, run-down punk rock hang out. Sure, the exterior could use a paint job, and the lawn could stand a mow, but with how often I’m on the phone with Google trying to get our address taken off the search results for that damn house, I haven’t had the time!

People can’t just go around walking into strangers’ homes. That’s a home invasion! I know my rights, and you’re lucky I don’t keep any guns in this house. I’m telling ya, if I didn’t suffer from severe depression and PTSD triggered by the many horrors I witnessed during my time working in the factory, I’d have at least twelve guns that would blow you back to Kingdom Come, which I assume is another one of your punk homes.

That’s all besides the point. Look, I’m a nice guy. It’s just extremely troubling how often strangers with spiked hair and black jackets just walk in around dinner time smoking a cigarette. And I thought telemarketers were bad! Heh. See, I still got a sense of humor about it. But my wife does not. In fact, she’s lost faith in my ability to protect her, and it’s beginning to put a strain on our marriage. So, for the love of everything decent in this world, please stop walking into my house.

Queen Elizabeth Cannot Remember At What Point She Knighted Sir Mix-a-Lot

Posted on by Bobby Korec

LONDON — Longtime royal and purveyor of British tradition Queen Elizabeth could not recall at what point in her life she knighted American rapper and songwriter Sir Mix-a-Lot, sources who attempted to explain “Baby Got Back” to her confirmed.

“There I was using the internet for the very first time to look up all the people with ‘sir’ in their official title, when all of a sudden someone named Sir Mix-a-Lot appeared as a Google entry,” said the Queen while scouring her official records in an attempt to confirm his knighthood status. “Granted, I’ve never heard of most of these sirs before. Like, who in bloody hell are Elton John and Paul McCartney? I meet a lot of people, so it’s not surprising if a few slip through the cracks. I haven’t paid attention to pop culture since the 1940s when entertainment was clearly at its peak. Anyway, I think I would’ve remembered knighting a guy like Mr. A-Lot.”

Anthony Ray, known professionally as Sir Mix-a-Lot, recalled his pathway to royalty.

“Oh yes, I got into the knight club in the mid-80s back when I was going through an amateur jousting phase and had collected several decorative lances,” said Ray while polishing his collection of rare medieval armor. “Not many people know this, but there’s actually a self-serve option of knighthood that you just mail in. You don’t have to go through some silly ceremony either, and it’s way easier to renew your royal membership by mail instead of waiting in some long line like you’re at the DMV. Maybe one day the Queen will let us renew this shit online like how the rest of the modern world does it.”

Experts provided additional insight into the longstanding practice.

“Being knighted is a very important piece of British history that most musicians will probably get to experience,” said historian Henrietta Geat. “The British have been knighting people literally since the Middle Ages. And if history tells us anything, it’s that those in power always stick to what they’ve been doing for centuries, regardless of how ridiculous or outdated it may look. Never break tradition.”

At press time, the Queen was checking the rules to see if she may take away honorary knighthood titles after hearing the music of Sir Bono for the first time and “not really caring for it, personally.”