Turns Out Dry Shampoo Is the Glue Holding This Woman Together

Posted on by Meg Scanlon

I don’t want to brag, but I have figured out the secret to life. I know how to keep it all together, now. It’s not therapy, it’s not going to the gym, it’s not maintaining a healthy relationship or any of that nonsense— it’s dry shampoo. I know, I know, it’s so obvious, right?

When my building had to turn off the water for a few hours, I panicked and considered washing my hair with some lime La Croix. As I was about to pour the sparkling beverage onto my oily mane over the kitchen sink, it hit me: “Don’t you have some dry shampoo in your bathroom cabinet?”

I found the aerosol can and sprayed my tresses, slowly melting away all the grease and anxiety I felt. It smelled of coconut and hope. “How did you get those beachy waves?” people ask me. From a gosh darn can!

If I were to add up those shower hours I’ve wasted in my lifetime, it would probably be approximately 17 years of wasted time.

I had a real scare recently, where I had a Zoom meeting in two minutes and I went to get the dry shampoo, or Isabelle as I now call her. As I was saying my mantra, “there’s nothing a spritz can’t fix,” Isabelle did something she had never done before, which was sputter and spray regular air onto my scalp. I started running around in what my roommate described as an “unsettling event,” but what does she know anyway?! She fortunately had a small travel-size bottle of dry shampoo and she saved the day/my life!

My roommate thinks maybe the dry shampoo isn’t what I really need, but rather yoga or meditation or “definitely therapy.” Mind your own business, Rebecca! She’s washing and blow drying her hair everyday like a fool. Doesn’t she know she could be using that time to build an empire like me? “Who is Isabelle and why do I hear you talking to her?” I don’t need to explain myself to you, Rebecca! I don’t even need friends, because I have Isabelle.

Come to think of it, I don’t need a job. It doesn’t bring me the magic I can get from a can. “I don’t think quitting your job is a good idea.” Whatever, Rebecca! You just don’t get it! “Your mom texted me and she is wondering why you aren’t calling her back.” Jeez, Rebecca! I don’t need my family either, just the sweet relief of a waterless shower! I don’t even need you to read this. I could have used this time to build my dream life brick by brick all while smelling like hibiscus and confidence.

I have been can-pilled, and my eyes are open. “Traditional hygiene” is just a construct that Big Wet Shampoo wants us to buy into to keep us from reaching our full potential.

Gibson Announces the “More Paul” Weighing In at 43 Pounds

Posted on by John Danek

NASHVILLE — Legendary guitar manufacturer Gibson Brands, Inc. announced an incredibly weighty successor to its famous Les Paul guitar, monikered the More Paul, sources who did not ask for this confirmed.

“No guitar has been more influential to heavy music than the Gibson Les Paul, so we designed a guitar to match that heaviness by adding a backbreaking 31 pounds to it,” stated Gibson’s Director of Brand Experience Mark Agnesi, who was beginning to show signs of adult-onset scoliosis. “The More Paul takes everything you love about the Les Paul, but adds lead inserts throughout its mahogany body. That means two things: the More Paul guitar is the heaviest guitar on the market, and it legally can’t be sold in the state of California.”

The guitar playing community had mixed reactions to Gibson’s radical new design.

“I already can’t play a Les Paul as it is. My spine can’t support 12 pounds of wood for more than two songs,” admitted Dorothy Lammela, lead guitarist of doom metal band Embalming Druid. “Also, they made the More Paul like, 30% bigger. Did they not test the design on a human being with tits? What am I supposed to do, tuck the More Paul’s body under my right boob when I play? No wonder every other band I know plays Fenders. It’s like Gibson only tests guitars out on Guy Fieri.”

Tone-chasing guitar connoisseurs debated whether or not increasing the weight of a guitar by such a dramatic amount offered any noticeable benefits.

“More weight equals more tone, real guitarists have known this for years. And more tone equals better songwriting, so why isn’t anyone streaming my latest single?” sighed guitar YouTuber Dirk Mitchell. “I have the best guitars, the most expensive amps, approximately 700 pedals, and I can’t get a single song on Spotify above the ‘< 1,000 plays’ mark. I can barely pay alimony, and it was all in the quest for tone. Anyway, as long as the More Paul costs less than $12,000, you can bet your ass that I’m going to buy it.”

Hot on the heels of the More Paul announcement from Gibson, B.C. Rich announced a new guitar featuring barbed wire in the place of standard guitar strings.

Review: Beastie Boys “Some Old Bullshit”

Posted on by Kevin Tit

Each Sunday, The Hard Times travels back and reviews a notable album from the past. This week we cover the 1994 compilation album “Some old bullshit”, by the 1980’s New York hardcore band turned International rap legends, The Beastie Boys.

“Brass Monkey” is a song we all love. It’s also a drink I’ve made countless times and only once has it made me shit my pants. I’m not sure what went wrong there but it may be responsible for ruining what could have otherwise been the greatest date I’ve ever been on.

We met on Tinder. It was still brand new back then. She was a Teacher’s Assistant for a special needs class at the local elementary school. We both connected over our love for the Beastie Boys and that’s when she admitted to never having tried a Brass Monkey. It was the perfect setup for what should have been the perfect date.

I got a haircut, ironed my clothes, and put on the cleanest shoes I owned, which just so happened to be a pair of fresh white Adidas superstars. The ones all New York rappers in the ’80s used to wear. I was looking fresh and feeling like a million bucks.

We started with some baked ziti for dinner at the Sbarro’s in the Hinkley Mall Food Court before sneaking in some King Cobra forty ounces to a screening of the 2012 masterpiece “That’s my boy” starring Adam Sandler and Andy Sandberg. Everything was going so well until about halfway through the movie when she reached for my hand. The butterflies in my stomach started to flutter with more intensity than I had ever felt in my life.

Then, before I could even appreciate the moment, the floodgates in my ass just flew off the hinges and next thing I knew I was sitting in hot wet shit. I tried to play it cool but there was no way she wouldn’t notice. The whole theater noticed and everybody walked out gagging at the foul odor slowly filling the room. I watched the last forty five minutes of the movie completely alone and had to toss my shit-covered Adidas in the trash on the way out.

I’m not sure what to blame for the accident. The warm King Cobra I picked up at the corner store across the street from the mall, the discount OJ from the same corner store, or the baked ziti itself. Maybe it was the combination of them all?

I never had a Brass Monkey ever again. That song isn’t even on this record. I guess I got a little sidetracked. The songs on this one are extremely fun and memorable. Like that date should have been. If you’re a fan of lo-fi blown-out ’80s hardcore and the charm of weird interstitial sampling, you’ll love this record.

Score: forty out of forty ounces of orange juice spiked malt liquor.

/**/

Mom Wondering if You’ll Be Home for Fourth of July Barbecue or if You’ll Be Too Busy With Your Critical Race Theory

Posted on by Dianne Nora

CINCINNATI — Your Mom is wondering if you’ll be home for her annual 4th of July barbecue, or if you’ll be too busy with this Critical Race Theory she keeps hearing about, confirmed sources close to the woman that gave birth to you and just wants to see you every once in a while.

“I hate to bother you, because I know you’re very preoccupied these days, protesting your privilege or whatever it is you kids get up to,” your Mom said. “But I need to know how many servings of unseasoned potato salad I’ll need to make. You’d think that someone could at least make time to celebrate his country and everyone who sacrificed for his freedoms, or at least to eat a few burgers with his Mother in between his busy schedule of apologizing for being white.”

You’ve been avoiding her calls these past few weeks, so much so that even your Dad has left you a voicemail.

“I know she means well, but she keeps asking me if she’ll catch side effects from me now that I’m vaccinated,” you said, your head hanging heavy at the thought of finally returning her call. “She seems to think everyone who lives in a city is setting fire to government buildings and looting Wal-Marts. I don’t even live near a Wal-Mart, and my parents’ house is only like a twenty-minute drive from mine. Last time I came over for dinner, I politely asked her if we could turn off OAN while we ate, and she started crying because she thought I’d ‘caught socialism.’”

Harriet Cartwright, a behavioral anthropologist at Xavier University, noted that recent data reflect a growing social divide among generations where questions of Critical Race Theory were involved.

“It’s a relatively new phenomenon among members of the Baby Boom generation, like myself, and their children, members of the millennial generation or even Gen-Z,” explained Cartwright. “Take my son Tony, for example. The latest studies overwhelmingly reflect that, while members of my generation feel increasing anxiety around Critical Race Theory, young people like Tony are apparently too busy kneeling at football games to visit their hometowns and watch some fireworks with their parents. What, Tony, are you trying to tell me that fireworks are racist now, too?”

At press time, your Mom was wondering if you could pick up some extra relish and a Blue Lives Matter flag on your way over to the house.

Nextdoor App Crashes as Neighbors Snitch on Their Own HOA BBQ Violations

Posted on by Khadija Hassan

SEATTLE — Neighborhood watch app Nextdoor crashed early this afternoon after users self-snitched on their own Fourth of July barbeque celebrations out of habit, according to sources.

“I just couldn’t believe what we were doing, and I knew I had to do something about it immediately,” said HOA member and co-host of an annual holiday barbeque, Bridgette Miller. “We were playing music, there were countless cars parked on the street I’ve never seen before, and I think I even saw a dog off leash at one point, so I got on the app and got right to work. The only thing keeping this community safe is our drive to follow the rules and report on those who break them in the most anonymous and non confrontational way, and that begins at home.”

HOA members have been diligent in their approach to self-regulation, using the Nextdoor app as a means of accountability while maintaining a minimal amount of face-to-face contact.

“Even before the pandemic, the Nextdoor app was a life saver. It started with my neighbor Cheryl [Wimbley]’s insistence on keeping her grass unkempt far beyond protocol, which I think is when we all started to realize that we could keep the grass consistent from our windows,” commented Justine Tovar on a piece of paper she slid under the door. “When I heard about the party I knew I’d have to help my neighbors from my front porch down the street. When I see everyone pitching in from their phones, I just feel that much safer.”

Despite most neighbors feeling relief over being able to prevent themselves from going about their lives, HOA member Solomon Miller was reportedly frustrated by the constant Nextdoor app violations in regard to a small gathering in his backyard.

“I just kept getting dings about the barbeque through Nextdoor, and it seemed like everyone was in a thread complaining about one thing or another. The strangest thing is that everyone making alerts were people at my house, but no one said anything to me about the music volume or the recycling bin or anything,” Miller explained. “Even my wife posted about my unregulated charcoal usage but just smiled and blinked kind of weird when she walked right by it.”

At press time, Nextdoor was down, terrifying residents with the thought that they might have to speak to one another at some point.

Man Hoping Truck Flag Size Properly Represents His Level of Racism

Posted on by Ryan Danley

CENTRALIA, Wash. — Local patriot Rick Staler is concerned that the size of the flags mounted in the bed of his Dodge Ram 1500 may not be an adequate representation of his extreme racist beliefs, sources close to the militiaman confirmed.

“This country has gone so soft. I fly the biggest flags they sell, and I feel like it’s not even close to expressing my deep dislike of lazy welfare cheats. I tried to buy one of those Super Bowl field-covering flags, but some socialist at the Town Hall told me it’s illegal. Apparently, I went to bed in the U.S. of A. and woke up in China,” said Staler while ironing his camo jacket. “But, like the forefathers, I will not be a victim of tyrants! I have my wife working on making our bed sheets into flags. Real Alphas will die before we lose our God-given right to speed through a Petsmart parking lot with ten yards of the modern white supremacy movement symbols proudly on display.”

Neighbor and fellow truck flag connoisseur Doug Randall takes a more nuanced approach.

“Listen, there’s nothing I love more than the Stars and Stripes flying while I rev my Hemmy at some Prius. But too much pageantry is a bit gauche. It’s not the size of the flag, it’s the hate you carry in your heart that matters,” said Randall. “These days I’m looking for a mid-sized flag that says my mixed nephew is welcome at Thanksgiving, but makes it clear that I support law enforcement’s shooting of unarmed citizens. A size that says, ‘I love tacos’ but also ‘Build! The! Wall!’ This is a game of inches.”

Mark Gold, Editor-in-Chief of Truck Flag! Magazine is concerned that deviance from the traditional truck flag path may represent weakness.

“Listen, anyone badass enough to fly Old Glory is a friend. But we’re starting to see people think they can roll up with a simple 5 x 8 and be treated like the second coming of Tucker Carlson. Can we trust Mr. 5 x 8 when we battle the incoming caravan of refugees? Not on my watch,” said Gold. “I won’t be happy until I have a truck made of flags that reaches Jesus in Heaven. And if you’re not on board with that, enjoy your mom’s basement you Antifa cuck.”

Staler was unavailable for further comment as he was checking his truck’s back window painting of a shirtless muscle-bound Donald Trump to ensure it had enough glistening sweat on its pecs.

Free Hot Dogs All It Took to Get Punk to Celebrate America

Posted on by James Knapp

SANDUSKY, Ohio — Local punk Curtis “Copkiller” Richards reportedly ceased his habit of constant slander against the United States while enjoying a few kosher beef franks at a neighbor’s July 4th barbeque, somewhat confused sources confirmed.

“Normally, Curtis and I don’t talk that much unless I’m reminding him that he needs to take his trash cans to the curb. But I thought I would do the neighborly thing and invite him to my annual BBQ for a couple of wieners,” explained neighbor and event host Glen Ollenstock. “When I first told him about it he was really dismissive and went into some long, weird rant about the Bay of Pigs. But when I mentioned I got footlongs this year he was all in. Seriously, I’ve never seen the promise of a hotdog change a person’s attitude that dramatically. Now I’m genuinely concerned about what his diet normally consists of.”

Attendees of Ollenstock’s barbeque affirmed that Richards’ newfound patriotism was mostly hot dog oriented.

“I don’t know who the smelly guy [Ollenstock] invited is, but I heard him audibly gasp earlier when he realized there was relish,” said Lynn Fraine, Ollenstock’s sister-in-law. “We pretty much go all out for the fourth usually, but this dude is still floored by hot dogs. I’m worried that if he finds out we also smoked baby back ribs for this he might seriously hurt himself.”

Richards explained the genesis of his newfound attitude toward America.

“Damn, these dogs are tasty! Shit, they even got this cool spicy mustard too,” exclaimed Richards in between his fourth and fifth tubed meat serving. “Yes, this shitbox of a country is an imperialist surveillance state every day of the year, but they toasted the buns! If capitalism gets you a day off and chipotle mayo then I’m gonna ride that melted cheese and diced onion train the whole way, since I’m pretty sure everyone I know is at some baseball game getting hammered on 2-for-1 beers all day.”

During Ollenstock’s evening fireworks show, Richards was once again amazed that there was a way to blow things up without getting arrested for arson.

John Landis MasterClass Teaches Aspiring Filmmakers How To Beat a Manslaughter Rap

Posted on by Dan Rice

LOS ANGELES — MasterClass released a five-hour course on circumventing manslaughter charges taught by legendary filmmaker, and director of “The Twilight Zone” movie segment which claimed the lives of three actors, John Landis.

“Never kill more than one celebrity at a time,” Landis warned in the preview to his class. “I killed Vic Morrow and a couple of kids who were nobodies. If I had killed Vic Morrow and Albert Brooks, forget about it. I would be teaching this class from jail, where I belong.”

The seminar, available exclusively to MasterClass subscribers, walks aspiring filmmakers through successfully beating manslaughter charges “from script to acquittal.”

“A defense doesn’t start after your negligence and reckless decision-making kills some actors. It starts on page one. As soon as you type the word ‘helicopter’ you need to start scouting a legal team,” Landis continued. “It is not our fault as filmmakers that helicopters and explosions look great on film. Beating the charges you’re sure to come up against, however, takes a great deal of thought. I find storyboarding useful in crafting a believable defense.”

Some students were frustrated and outraged that MasterClass did not disclose ahead of time that the legendary director’s teachings would focus exclusively on cheating the law.

“He spent a whole hour explaining how a cool way to get away with one crime, ‘say, breaking child labor laws,’ is to ‘sort of commit a much larger crime’ and then beat that one in court,” reported in-class student Samantha Bell. “I was hoping for some advice about blocking, and maybe the best way to deal with script rewrites if you are on a shoestring budget.”

MasterClass CEO David Rogier seemed convinced that now is the perfect time for Landis’s unique tutelage.

“Mr. Landis’s class has quickly become one of our most popular offerings since ‘Kevin Spacey Teaches Acting,’” explained Rogier. “It’s understandable why. The craft of filmmaking has never been more accessible. All you need is a camera and a long chain of people underneath you for plausible deniability when your recklessness results in death.”

Following the success of this class, Landis is now partnering with his son Max to teach students the art of Hollywood nepotism and entitlement.

Hard Rock Cafe Manager Will Let You Hold The INXS Guitar If You Help Jump His Car

Posted on by Dicky Stock

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — Hard Rock Cafe Manager Kyle Neeson offered the chance to hold the INXS guitar hanging in the women’s bathroom to departing Hard Rock customers in exchange for a jump after realizing his car battery had died, according to sources who have somewhere to be, sorry.

“This is actually a big Hard Rock no-no,” explained Neeson, who was covered in engine soot from trying to fix the dead battery by hand. “I’ve been the manager here for fifteen years and they don’t let me touch anything. However, I have insider knowledge that the lock on the case holding the ladies room INXS guitar is compromised, and I think I could probably get it loose. This guitar was played on the 2002 Just For Kicks Tour by Kirk Pengilly, the guitarist for INXS, so in exchange for the 30 seconds it takes to jump a Honda, you’d be a fool to turn down a deal like this.”

Cafe patron Justin Kelly heard Neeson’s plea as he and others exited the restaurant, but decided against providing aid.

“This guy started babbling about a guitar in a bathroom or something,” said Kelly, who seemed halfway between annoyed and angry at Neeson’s proposition. “I’m pretty sure he needed his car jumped but I couldn’t figure out what the fuck anything had to do with INXS. It’s like, dude, call AAA, dickhead. See if they give a shit, because literally no one out here gives a fuck about your toilet guitar. I’m fucking shitfaced.”

AAA technician Jackson Young was sent to assist Neeson with this dilemma after the manager watched as every single car exited the Hard Rock Cafe parking lot.

“I got a call around 11:30 from someone needing a jump. The guy kept asking if I’d be interested in a trade and insisted I walk inside to hold a guitar that belonged to a band I don’t know,” said tow truck driver Young, of Kevin Young’s Towing in Myrtle Beach. ”This kind of stuff happens all the time. I had to repo some lady’s Hyundai the other week and she kept offering to let me hold her baby who was once held by Depeche Mode vocalist Dave Gahan if I’d ‘look the other way’ for a couple more days. You meet some cuckoo clocks working around here at this hour, but this guy is a true cuckoo.”

When reached for comment following the jump, Neeson’s wife informed us he was “resting and could not come to the phone.”

Opinion: I Only Abuse Alcohol Recreationally

Posted on by Bobby Korec

I’d like to apologize to every single person who attended my surprise intervention. Had I known it was happening I would’ve brought a 30-pack and some ping pong balls, and we would have had a blast. I apologize if my actions hurt you. But the good news is, you don’t need to worry about my drinking. I have everything totally under control. I only abuse alcohol recreationally, and I can stop whenever I want to or when I pass out. Usually the latter.

The key is to avoid relying on alcohol emotionally. For example, I only dump toxic amounts of booze directly down my gullet every day of the week for pure funsies. I never, ever drink when I’m angry, sad, or anxious. And it works! I can’t even remember the last time I felt any of those feelings. Besides, what else am I supposed to drink after a hard day’s work of staving off another hangover? Kombucha? Get real. No one drinks kombucha recreationally.

A big red flag for alcohol abuse is drinking in the morning and I’m here to tell you that ain’t me. No matter how much I want a gin and tonic immediately after arriving at work, I always make sure to wait until exactly noon so it doesn’t become a problem. Sure, the sweats kick in around 11:15, but a little self-control goes a long way when it comes to alcohol abuse.

The truth is, you simply cannot have an alcohol problem if you only do it recreationally in your downtime. That’s why they’re called “recreational” drugs and not “this is going to be a problem for you down the road” drugs. I’d never do those drugs unless a stranger offered them to me in a bar bathroom while I’m hammered.

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