“Hey Arnold!” Characters Ranked by How Likely They’d Be a Union Buster

After decades of shows set in suburbia, no other kids’ show captured the zeitgeist of urban life quite like “Hey Arnold!” It didn’t just feature a wonderfully diverse cast of characters—it also served up urban folklore at its finest. From working-class butchers to beeper tycoons, “Hey Arnold!” gave us the full spectrum of city life, where every stoop, alley, and rooftop had a story. In a city this colorful, you just know labor disputes would be part of the drama. So let’s rank these iconic characters by how likely they’d be to bust a union—or fight for one.

41. Grandma Gertie

Little-known fact: Pookie was in the Weather Underground back in the day. She didn’t just support unions—she terrorized their enemies. If a corporation had unethical working conditions, you could bet Gertie was sending them a “care package” that ticked. Now in her golden years, she’s mellowed out… but only slightly. She’s still the type to chain herself to a bulldozer while shouting, “POWER TO THE WORKERS!”

40. Marty Green

His name is Marty Green, and he grew up going to Mets games with Bernie Sanders, swearing that Bernie stole his lucky foam finger in 1978. Marty gambles on everything from horses to slot machines in his free time. He hosts goat roasts with his butcher union buddies, where they chant, “Meat for the people!” He’s the guy who’ll throw the first punch at a scab and the first dollar on a bar bet about it afterward.

39. Helga

Overshadowed by her overachieving older sister, Helga channels her unresolved daddy issues into pure, chaotic union energy. Sure, she’s probably pro-union just to spite Big Bob, but she’s also the first to grab a megaphone and scream, “DOWN WITH BOOTLICKERS!” at scabs. Helga doesn’t just support the cause—she weaponizes it. If you’re not pulling your weight on the picket line, she’ll verbally eviscerate you, and honestly? We love that.

38. Mr. Simmons

Mr. Simmons is surprisingly hardcore when it comes to unions. He’ll show up to the picket line with a tray of cookies and a megaphone, shouting, “A FAIR CONTRACT IS THE SWEETEST TREAT!” Don’t let the cardigans fool you—he’s the guy who’ll stay up all night making protest signs and leading chants like, “No raises? No way, sir!” while handing out motivational pamphlets titled “Collective Bargaining and You!”

37. Ernie Potts

Without the local 768 Demolition Union, Ernie’s life wouldn’t burn so bright—literally. When management doesn’t budge, he rallies the crew with lines like, “Nice office you got there—would be a shame if a wrecking ball forgot where to stop.” He once organized a strike by parking a bulldozer on the boss’s front lawn with a sign that read, “PAY UP OR WE DIG POOLS.” For Ernie, union meetings are just as much about contracts as they are about creative intimidation.

36. Dino Spumoni

Dino Spumoni used to sing at union meetings where Jimmy Hoffa spoke, crooning hits like “Solidarity Swing” and “Pensions and Passion.” He knows exactly what happened to Hoffa, but whenever someone asks, he smirks, lights a cigar, and says, “Kid, some songs are better left unsung.”

35. Sheena

C’mon now. Sheena writes songs about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire and performs them on her ukulele at every union meeting. She’s so pro-worker it’s almost performative, but her heartfelt ballads about workplace safety have made a few CEOs cry.

34. Eugene

Classic bleeding-heart liberal or fighter for the working man? Eugene is both. He became an avid supporter of unions after his first (of many) worker’s comp claims. Whether tripping over the picket line or getting tangled in a “UNION STRONG” banner, he’s always there—slightly bruised but unwavering in his support.

33. Vincent the Pigeon Man

Long isolated from the working man’s world, the Pigeon Man doesn’t just hate capitalism—he hates humanity in general. He trains his pigeons to deliver “surprise packages” to corporate offices, not in support of unions, but simply because chaos brings him joy. Strikes and scabs mean nothing to him—he just wants to watch the world burn, one bird dropping at a time.

32. Harvey

He hates the snow, he hates the rain, he hates the sleet—but what Harvey hates most is corporate greed. He’s fiercely pro-union, the kind of guy who’ll show up to the picket line at 5 a.m. just to glare at scabs. “If I’m freezing my ass off out here,” he growls, “then you better believe we’re getting that damn vision and dental.”

31. Harold

Harold is 100% pro-union, but it’s less about workers’ rights and more about his dream of becoming the union mascot. He shows up to every rally dressed as a giant sandwich board that says “FAIR WAGES = FULL SNACK TABLES,” chanting so loud he drowns out the bullhorn. Somehow, his chaotic energy makes him the heart and soul of the movement.

30. Arnold

Arnold will inevitably find himself in a moral dilemma involving Big Bob exploiting workers, probably while Grandma Gertie is chaining herself to a factory gate. After a lot of thoughtful staring out his skylight, Arnold will give an impassioned speech about fairness, accidentally unionize the entire block, and somehow get everyone ice cream in the process.

29. Lila

“Benefits and worker’s rights are ever so great!” Lila chirps as she accidentally crosses a picket line, thinking it’s just a shortcut to the farmer’s market.

28. Abner

Abner wants nothing to do with corporate pigs—he thinks they give real pigs a bad name. He spends his days rolling in mud outside the Oscar Mayer headquarters, squealing in protest and refusing to budge until workers unionize.

27. Phoebe

Phoebe is the type who would painstakingly research both sides of the union debate and then end up paralyzed by overthinking. She’d ultimately write a 20-page paper titled “The Ethical Nuances of Collective Bargaining” and hand it to both the union and management, accidentally uniting them in shared confusion.

26. Brainy

Poor Brainy. We don’t feel a lot of sympathy for this mouth-breathing peeping Tom, but he’s not a union buster. He’s not pro-union either. Brainy is… nothing. Just heavy breathing in the background, occasionally whispering, “Solidarity,” to no one in particular.

25. Iggy

After the bunny costume incident, Iggy’s humiliating fall from ‘90s beatnik revival king of cool to total laughingstock forced him into reclusion. Now, he spends his days microdosing fentanyl, chain-smoking Parliaments, and watching all 29 episodes of “Andy Richter Controls the Universe” on an old tube TV he swears “just has better vibes.”

24. Monkeyman

Like Andy Dick who voices him, Monkeyman only cares about taboo sexual encounters and cocaine. Unions are irrelevant to him unless they somehow interfere with his next bender.

23. Lorenzo

Lorenzo, the oligarch’s son, once asked, “If workers are so stressed, why don’t they just hire personal masseuses like I do?” He thinks unions are “a quaint tradition” and once tried to organize a strike at his prep school because the sushi bar ran out of uni.

22. Mr. Hyunh

You can offer him a diamond-plated pearl; you can send him all the riches in the world; you can tempt him with the palaces of kings—but he’d give ‘em back in a big ol’ sack and keep the simple thing. Mr. Hyunh is so humble and self-sacrificing that he’s perfectly content being exploited, thinking, “At least I have bowling night.”

21. Stinky

Stinky’s not anti-union—he’s just too gullible for his own good. Hand him a flyer that says “Unions Take Yer Money!” and he’ll believe it without question. He’d probably join management’s side by accident, thinking they’re handing out free snacks, and switch back again if someone offers him a cold Dr. Pepper.

Woman Doing Totally Fine Without Alcohol Has Posted About Mocktails 23 Times This Week

LOS ANGELES, Calif. — Local woman Hallie Phillips is reportedly thriving during an attempt to reduce alcohol consumption despite posting pictures of mocktails to her Instagram account 23 times in the past week, confirmed sources who muted her on social media.

“I kept seeing so many ads for mocktails on Instagram and some influencers I follow kept posting about their alcohol-free experiences. So it looked like fun!” said Phillips while drinking a virgin mojito at 9am. “Oh, and some health benefits, I guess. But it’s going great. You can hardly tell there’s no bourbon in this cocktail. Or rum. Or Vodka. Or single malt whiskey. Or hell, even double malt. I’d even take a sherry. I mean, you can hardly tell.”

Phillips’ Instagram follower/friend Ashley Thomas shed some light on the situation as it continued to unfold.

“Listen, I thought it was a fun little idea for her to give up alcohol for January. It’s good to try new things and see what works. But now I think she might legitimately have a problem,” said Thomas. “I mean, she spent from 3pm to 2am talking about her at-home virgin tiki bar on IG live yesterday. She called it Shirley’s Tiki Temple. She said it like 40 times. It’s like, just take a fucking shot or go to rehab at that point, you know? Look, she just posted again.”

Sheila Duckers, an alcohol recovery expert, offered some professional insight on when mocktails are just a trend or when they’re an indicator of a bigger issue.

“Quitting alcohol cold turkey can have some serious and dangerous outcomes, such as death or becoming intolerable on social media,” said Duckers. “And it can reveal an underlying issue. Sometimes it truly is best to release the vice-like grip on your Salt Lake City Iced Tea and seek help from a professional. It can be difficult to admit you have a problem, or to even recognize you have one. Which is why I have an online guide to help you figure out if you’re just engaging in a fun hobby or spiraling in a public and humiliating fashion. Take my quiz now at mocktailsormockfails.com.”

At the time of print, Phillips agreed to seek the advice of an alcohol recovery professional, and is even going to quit smoking by using a chamomile lavender vape pen 15 times a day.

Opinion: I’ve Had My Heart Broken by the Cryptkeeper for the Last Time

Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m done being toyed with. No longer will I sit around and wait for the Cryptkeeper to resurrect my hopes, only to sit by the phone just waiting for him to call, every single night.

Or should I say every single… FRIGHT!

This is the last time I’m going to let that skeletal, voice-box-having, pun-slinging deadbeat break my heart. No matter how much I’m DYING for him to actually treat me like someone worth living for.

I can’t even get that motherfucker to have a nice normal date with me, he only wants a booty call that hasn’t been dead for fifty years. Just last week I said, “Let’s go for some frozen yogurt, babe, we can make it a thing,” and he said, “Nah, I think I’ll stick to something more CHILLING…like ice SCREAM!”

That doesn’t even make sense, they’re both the same temperature.

We met at a meet-cute of sorts: I was at a Halloween party, a little tipsy on pumpkin spice and existential dread, when I noticed him looming in the corner, only the top half of him showing for some inexplicable reason.

His skeletal frame was hard to miss, but it was his puns and odor of rotting flesh that reeled me in. After a few minutes of chatting me up, he just straight-up asked me home, saying “You want to get out of…FEAR? My place is a real dungeon, you know.”

Ugh, classic Cryptkeeper.

I knew then that this would be the start of something… passionate, torrid, and quite frankly, doomed from the start. At first, it felt like a whirlwind romance. We were inseparable, until I caught him whispering sweet nothings into the ears of some ghoul at the club one night.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” I thought, “I’m just your loving, alive partner, over here with a drink in hand, while you shack up with the undead on the dance floor.” It was the third time in a row I’d found him at some late-night haunt, pawing at a pile of hot vampire chicks.

I talked with my friends about it, and I finally put my foot down.

“No matter how hot he is or how his cackle fills me with more erotic charge than anyone else ever could.,” I said, “I can’t keep dating a guy who’s more committed to his crypt than to me!”

They agreed. It was hard, though—he does have that look. You know, the look that says, “My eyeballs rotted away centuries ago… but, like, in a sexy way.”

Ugh.

I deserve better than that. At least from someone who doesn’t have to re-animate every time I call him. And maybe someone who isn’t obsessed with DEPRAVED stories and breaking the fourth wall.

Or should I say…breaking the fourth MAUL!

Band Fight Leads to Band Makeup Sex

CHATTANOOGA, Tenn. — Local stoner rockers Dust Buster’s recent argument that devolved into screaming and name-calling ultimately led to hot, steamy, erotic makeup sex, staff for the practice facility confirm.

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. Never leave practice angry,” mused Dust Buster guitarist Greg Jenkins. “I’m not gonna lie, practice got out of hand with all of the petty insults and yelling back and forth, which all started over something pretty dumb anyway. But once the air cleared a bit, we looked into each other’s eyes and realized just how much love we had for one another, and how horny that made us. Next thing we knew, the four of us were sucking and fucking the night away. We didn’t get much playing in, but I’ll be damned if that wasn’t one of the best practices we ever had.”

The manager of the practice facility was a bit confused by the lascivious cacophony emanating from one of the rented rooms.

“I was doing my usual nightly routine of walking around the facility, making sure everything was running smoothly,” recounted the manager of Rock Of Ages practice facility, Norm Sanderson. “All of a sudden, the sound of yelling from one of the rooms caught my attention, so I decided to investigate a bit further to make sure everything was okay. But when I put my ear to the door, the noise changed from yelling to more like lustful moans of pure ecstacy. I didn’t dare open the door. I’ll tell ya one thing though, I damn sure ain’t paying for that Stanley Steemer bill.”

Dr. Anna Garcia, psychiatrist and therapist for the band, offered some alternatives and coping mechanisms when dealing with infighting and copulation.

“I let the group know that engaging in wild, unadulterated coitus following a heated disagreement isn’t necessarily the healthiest approach to band unity,” noted Garcia. “I’m not sure they took my suggestions to heart, as they were laughing inappropriately and vigorously rubbing each other’s nipples during the entire session. I was annoyed at their behavior, but also a little jealous. Some of the most productive band practices often occur immediately after some hanky panky.”

At press time, members of Dust Buster expressed their desire to introduce role-playing and BDSM to the weekly practices to keep the creative spark firing.

Congress Amends Rules So Caretakers Can Vote on Their Behalf

WASHINGTON — Congressional lawmakers reached a new bipartisan consensus to allow their caretakers to vote on their behalf, confirmed sources who weren’t terribly surprised by the whole ordeal.

“As a lifelong government official, I understand the significance of allowing my congressional vote to count long after I lose basic cognitive and motor functions,” said 91-year-old Senator Chuck Grassley. “Society must continue to drive forward, no matter how much the smell of encroaching death emanates from within me. With that philosophy in mind, the Granger Act will allow our caretakers to guess how we would’ve voted for a bill and make it count. And if they aren’t sure which way we’d vote, all they need to do is check our corporate donor list and just do what they would do.”

Caretakers, on the other hand, aren’t so eager about this legislative change.

“It was stressful enough to have to listen to an old senator yell at me for not warming up her soup to her liking while she was having visions of the ghosts of Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly haunting her with an ear-shattering duet,” said local nurse Lydia Firestein. “But now we have to vote on which civil liberties our patients want to chip away? Which arms shipments to kill civilians they want our tax dollars going toward? No thanks. I already miss the old days when all I had to do was vote every four years, only to see it not count whatsoever because of the Electoral College.”

Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has her own concerns with the recently passed bill.

“We might be able to get the Green New Deal through the gridlock in a few decades at this rate! Maybe after enough cities and coastal towns sink into the seas, I guess,” said Rep. Ocasio-Cortez. “If these Boomers won’t voluntarily retire at a reasonable age, we’re going to start seeing more and more of this self-preservation of power. Half of these ghouls already have their caretakers voting for them. Don’t be surprised if we also have their funeral home director, casket maker, and ditch digger lined up to vote for them as well.”

At press time, Congress was already amending the bill to allow caretakers to vote on their behalf for a good 100 years after they’ve passed.

Opinion: The Hardest Part of Aging Isn’t the Physical Changes, It’s No Longer Being Offered Drugs

The joyless march towards death comes with many indignities like wearing earplugs at concerts, knees that can’t outrun cops, or trading in your favorite Vans for something with more arch support. But nobody tells you of the invisible toils of aging. Nobody prepares you for the indignity of no longer being offered drugs, now, at a time when you need to escape the horrors of your reality more than ever.

It happens so slowly at first you may not realize it’s happening to you. You may be fooled into thinking this new generation of young people just doesn’t party like they did “in your day.” (That’s a thing you say now, but only ironically.) But I’m here to let you know they DO party. Unfortunately, they clocked your New Balances the moment you walked in and were waiting for the creepy youth pastor (that’s you) to leave the bathroom before they got down to business.

Did you catch that subtle head nod from the attractive stranger at the bar? Did you think that was for you? Ha! That wasn’t for you, you dumb old fuck! It was for the 20-something behind you and that quick glance toward you was a silent inquiry as to whether or not you were a narc. Yes, they are heading to the afterparty but you, my geriatric friend, better hurry home to hydrate and moisturize before you shrivel into a decaying mass of flaccid flesh.

Once you’re wise to the game you’ll notice that not only are you not being asked to join the party, you end the party, simply by being there. And not being offered party favors is actually just the beginning. Soon you won’t even be able to seek drugs out without someone fearing you’re a cop. I recently spent 30 minutes engaging with a man selling “seashells” on a beach in the Bahamas. I used every nautical drug innuendo I could think of and the only thing this guy had for me was actual decorative seashells. Twenty years ago that man would have sold me so many drugs I would have spent 3 days in a relationship with a stray dog I believed to be my twin flame and now he’s got me pegged as a wired fed, or worse, someone that needs another shellacked seashell to accompany my Live, Laugh, Beach themed bathroom. I did purchase two of those seashells but only because it’s important to support small business (Right? Right?!).

Just because I’m advanced in age doesn’t mean I don’t want to party. I mean, I don’t drink any more on account of the ulcer, I’ll pass on the psychedelics as they tend to flare up my diverticulitis and I won’t touch coke with this arrhythmia situation but it would be nice to be ASKED.

Korn Fan Begrudgingly Admits Band Peaked With the First 50 Seconds of “Blind”

BAKERSFIELD, Calif. — Local Korn fan Floyd Brennan recently admitted that the band hit its peak approximately 50 seconds into the song “Blind,” confirmed sources who didn’t think he made a compelling case.

“I love Korn, don’t get me wrong, but the older I get, the harder it is to pretend that the band has put out anything as badass as the quietly unhinged opening of ‘Blind,’” the 43-year-old Bakersfield native said. “Sure, to say a band hit their musical pinnacle after the first minute of the first song on their first album may sound preposterous. But there’s just something about how each instrument builds on the previous one—first the cymbal thing, then the ominously high guitar, then the uneven bass, and then the second sludgy-sounding guitar—all leading to the perfect climax: Johnathon Davis growling ‘Are you ready?’ Just talking about it gets me pumped to fuck shit up! Sadly, it’s all been downhill from there.”

Brennan’s best friend and fellow Korn enthusiast, Laurel Riggs, was slightly more generous when describing the band’s musical output.

“I’d say the band peaked more like a minute and 20 seconds into ‘Blind,’” said Riggs. “The song doesn’t get bad until Jonathon Davis starts in with his emo ‘place inside my mind’ shit. That’s when Korn jumped the shark. The band did come close to the opening of ‘Blind’ a few times. ‘Freak on a Leash,’ for instance, would be a killer track without all the bullshit scatting in the middle. The beginning of ‘Here to Stay’ is pretty good, but then the song just starts without asking any questions.”

Former Korn drummer David Silveria agrees with Brennan’s opinion on the band’s musical output.

“It hurts to know that you’ll never write anything better than 50 consecutive seconds of rapidfire cymbal hits,” said an exasperated Silveria. “That’s one of the reasons I left the band. I suggested we write another song that gently elevates until we hit the audience with a random question, but they refused, so I bounced. There’s no point to being in a band if you’re not going to recreate the formula that just works. If I had it my way, every song would just be a variation of ‘Blind.’”

At press time, Brennan also revealed that he believed Deftones peaked after the first 20 seconds of “Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away).”

Six Songs We’re Catching Up On After Pulling Our Phone Out of the River We Threw It Into Last Week

Goddamn, what a week, huh? If you’re anything like us, you’ve probably been spending the majority of your time since last Monday screaming at your television, disowning family members, fighting waves of anxiety and capitalist dread, and deleting and reinstalling all of your social media apps. New music was still being released, though, and seemingly that is the only thing that has remained the same. Here are six songs you might have missed amid the chaos.

Coheed and Cambria ‘Someone Who Can’

Your weekly D&D sessions have been rowdy as fuck since Coheed and Cambria announced their new album, ‘The Father of Make Believe,’ last year. Rightfully so, considering the intensity of the first two singles ‘Blind Side Sonny’ and ‘Searching For Tomorrow.’ Perhaps the band has heard about your campaign being derailed repeatedly by Jeff flipping the table over every time a guitar solo comes in because their latest, ‘Someone Who Can’ is nostalgic and somber enough to have your entire party in a depressed silence for weeks to come.

Viagra Boys ‘Man Made of Meat’

Viagra Boys are back and irreverent as ever, making us ask ourselves the hard questions with their new single ‘Man Made of Meat’ Deep societal questions like: ‘Is ‘Friends’ a good show?’ ‘Should I have eaten that McDouble earlier?’ ‘Was Matthew Perry really involved with Limp Bizkit’s breakthrough album AND in the 1967 avant-garde Warhol film ‘Tub Girls?’ You’ll be too busy dancing while simultaneously mouthing ‘the fuck?’ to Google any of that, so we’ll just go ahead and let you know the answer is ‘no’ to all three.

Scowl ‘Not Hell Not Heaven’

The long-anticipated sophomore album from hardcore quintet, Scowl, has finally been announced. ‘Are We All Angels’ will be unleashed in just over two months and the scathing second single ‘Not Hell Not Heaven’ is out now. The track finds the band leaning heavier into their pop sensibilities, but it still sounds as though someone unleashed a pack of wild dogs into an unsuspecting recording studio and asked them to craft a ‘90s style alt-rock anthem.

Fucked Up ‘Disabuse’

It’s been a little over a month since we’ve heard from ‘Fucked Up,’ which, based on their recent output, might as well be a thousand years devoid of new music from the hyper-prolific Canadian quintet. Their latest, ‘Disabuse’ feels like a full-on monsoon after such a drought. The track finds the band firmly in their hardcore roots and it absolutely shreds. ‘Disabuse’ is one of two new songs that will be released via Sub Pop’s single series in March. Aside from that, we can only hope one to five new albums are being planned for the new year.

Meat Wave ‘Voicemail’ & ‘Dehydrated’

Oh shiiiiiiit yeah! Meat Wave is back, baby! It’s been nearly three years since the Chicago punk trio’s excellent “Malign Hex” was thrust into the world and that’s too long of a gap. Fortunately, the group understands the concept of underpromising and overdelivering, having released two brand new songs just over a week ago. ‘Voicemail’ is the one-minute ripper our short attention spans need in these times. ‘Dehydrated’ lingers a bit longer, frenetically oscillating between dreamy and rage-filled. Shit shreds.

Now that your nerves have been temporarily calmed by the hope of new music, you’re probably wondering where you can find more while continuing to exert as little effort as possible. Fortunately, for you, we’ve created a playlist to collect all of the year’s nonsense tracks. You can like, follow, and listen below.

Cop Infiltrating Far-Right Militia Just Happy to See Colleagues Outside Work

AKRON, Ohio — Officer Brian McCarthur of the Akron Police Department shared his delight at seeing work friends while infiltrating local far-right militia, the Sons of 1776, confirmed sources.

“Domestic terrorism is no joke, but there’s nothing like a beer with your work bro,” shared Officer McCarthur from an Elk’s Lodge while deep undercover. “The disguise is a formality, they all know it’s me, old Bri-Bri. This is the chillest assignment ever, it’s like work but without any bullshit oversight. No one monitoring our comms, no civilian complaints. Hell, half our lieutenants organize night patrols. My old partner Ryan is putting together a chapter, might have to ‘infiltrate’ him sometime. My boy Kev made sergeant last year so I never get to see him at work anymore, but in here, I get to bro-out with Kev every night. And Kev is hilarious. He records Rogan for our patriot brothers that don’t know how to work podcasts. Heart of gold.”

Akron PD Chief Jim Fairbanks discussed the seeming contradictions of the assignment.

“We take threats to politicians and public spaces seriously, but sometimes ya gotta let boys be boys,” shared Chief Fairbanks from a crowded Jimmy John’s. “Everyone needs to let off a little steam after work. Let ‘em scrap it up a bit, holler, let the fur fly. Can’t let things get outta hand, though: that’s the balance. Don’t have the funds to replace civic structures, should our boys cause a ruckus. Still, didn’t America start with a revolution? I’m sure the whole idea was thought up by the Founding Fathers, all drinking ales together after a long day’s work.”

Johns Hopkins political analyst Maria Holdecott insists this is nothing new.

“We even see judges leading extremist brigades,” said Holdecott from her Baltimore office. “It’s a social club for lonely men harboring antisocial attitudes towards minorities or leftists, but with a penchant for dumb pranks. A lot of these guys grew up on ‘Jackass,’ which explains the showboating. Note the recidivist loop here: We see non-radical members edged out by violence subsequently join their local police force, only to re-enter the militia as a seasoned inductee. The snake from the ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ flag has become the Ouroboros eating itself: Desperate. Illiterate. Horny. Alone.”

At press time, Officer McCarthur barely contained excitement over his next assignment to infiltrate a human trafficking ring by grabbing a covert coffee with their leader, his own Captain.

Why People Are Ditching Dry January for “Just Do Different Drugs Month”

As millions of Americans are committing to a “Dry January” in earnest, millions more are realizing, “Hey, wait, what the fuck, I committed to being sober the entire month and my friend Bobby is just doing different drugs instead. Do I still have to do this?”

This recent backlash has led to protests and forced many to finally admit that, sure, they weren’t really planning to stop doing all of the drugs, they just weren’t going to drink IPAs for a month but still drink those THC seltzers you can finally get at the liquor store instead of having to cross state lines to that town that people only go to for the dispensary that looks kind of like a Forever 21 inside but smells better.

As we tried to learn more about this movement, we took to the streets to ask people why they were doing it. We couldn’t find anyone willing to talk to us, so we asked people back home instead.

The Hard Times: Lex, why are you doing this?

Honestly, I was just doing it to prove that I’m better than Sarah. She gave up mid-month, and I beat her by a day, so now I’m doing ‘Different Drugs Month’ too. Well, she doesn’t know that, so I’ll keep rubbing it in until she finds out.

Hey Bobby, we couldn’t find anyone else to ask about this. So what’s going on?

I was telling people I was doing Dry January. But I didn’t drink much anyway, and I was planning to smoke the same amount of weed. Maybe also try mushrooms. A few friends got upset when they found out, so I told them I was trying a new thing instead. That’s why I made up ‘Different Drugs Month.’

Learning that Bobby just casually made the whole thing up to cover his tracks was a pretty big blow to our own commitment to Dry January. But after thinking about it more, it just proves we’re better than everyone else. So if we’re the only ones actually doing this—and already so much better than everyone we know—it’s cool if we have like, A beer to celebrate, no?