Report: Death Metal Band’s Long Sleeve Shirt Has Way Too Much Shit On It

Posted on by Chris Bowen

ORLANDO, Fla. — A new long sleeve shirt design for death metal band Gorebomb is confusing fans with its overwhelming amount of designs plastered all over it, several brutal sources report.

“Real death metal is all about excessively violent imagery, any metalhead worth their sleeveless vest knows that. That’s why a 9-panel shirt filled with an abundance of gore and death is exactly what the public want and needs,” Gorebomb singer Devon Johnson explained while hiking up his camo shorts. “The more gore, the better. The more logos, the better. Every single color under the sun should be plastered on every inch of a death metal band’s shirt and Gorebomb accomplished this with our exclusive ‘Blunt Force Trauma 2022’ tour shirt design. Not made for logo-only shirt wimps.”

Gorebomb fan Danielle Lee purchased the long sleeve shirt at a show and decided after wearing it, she was left with more than a few gripes.

“I thought it looked pretty cool up on the rack behind the merch table, but little did I know, the design I was looking at was just one sleeve,” Lee said while looking down at the ludicrously designed shirt. “It doesn’t need the bloody chainsaws on each elbow. All the tiny Gorebomb logos around the neck are probably going to give me a rash. Every time I look at the shirt I see something new. At this point, I’m wondering if it’s magically sprouting new designs on its own. I’ve never owned a shirt that can’t be folded, and the thing weighs like 30 pounds!”

Randy Wilkes, a press operator at the t-shirt shop where Gorebomb had their shirts made, talks about the difficulties he faced creating the chaotic design.

“My god, I’m still sore from busting my ass after that grueling seven weeks,” Wilkes explained. “Yeah, seven weeks! It took that long to make a limited run of just 25 of these things. I worked full weeks working 12-hour days to get these fucking shirts made. I missed my kid’s birthday! It put us over our budget for screen printing ink for the year already. It’s like they just wanted to see how many logos they could fit on the sleeves or something. I know I wouldn’t want to wear something that obnoxiously violent.”

At press time, Gorebomb was seen making a limited run of visceral sweatpants with “Gorebomb” plastered across the rear end.

Man with No Talent, Artistic Achievements, or Notability Knows How He Would Answer Every “Hot Ones” Question

Posted on by John Danek

MONTICELLO, Ark. — Local unremarkable man Phil Lindley is prepared to answer any question on YouTube interview show “Hot Ones” despite offering no reason to ever be interviewed by anyone, snickering friends reported.

“I’ve watched every ‘Hot Ones’ episode multiple times and know how I would answer any question; they honestly should just have me on at this point,” declared Lindley, who was recently demoted from manager back to cashier at the local Gap store. “Sean Evans will start with the usual ‘How are you with spicy foods?’ and I’ll tell my anecdote about dosing my friends with Dave’s Insanity Sauce in sixth grade. And when it’s time to explain that gram? Yeah, they’ll definitely go for the pic of the fish I caught at my brother’s bachelor party in Pensacola. Hey Sean—I’m free any time!”

Those who have gotten to know Lindley on a personal level are often astounded at how truly unremarkable he is.

“I’m not proud but I did date him for a few months; it was actually fascinating to observe how much of a dud Phil is,” admitted ex-girlfriend and current co-worker Karli Massany. “He has no interesting talents or qualities, yet spends time every day practicing awards acceptance speeches in the mirror. I cannot stress enough that he has no hobbies or creative interests. One time, the city poured new sidewalk concrete and he practiced placing his handprints and signing his name like it’s Graumann’s fucking theater. He’s never read a book!”

“Hot Ones” host Sean Evans conceded that the show’s email inbox is inundated with uninteresting people who think they deserve to be on the show.

“Our show features exceptional guests who have achieved impressive things, so quit pestering me if you’re just a waste of oxygen,” said Evans, who is close to setting the world record for simultaneous stomach ulcers. “Your college drinking stories and third place regional cross country trophies are not very interesting. You know what is interesting? Dua Lipa recounting skydiving with David Lee Roth. Or Triple H confessing to a late ‘90s arson spree. I’m a real journalist so stop wasting my time.”

Eyewitness reports indicate Lindley was recently spotted getting fit for a tuxedo, just in case he is invited to a White House dinner.

Ultimate Groupie? I’ve Banged Most of the Guys That Work at This Jimmy John’s

Posted on by Ted Pillow

You don’t really hear much about groupies anymore. It seems the days of hooking up with dudes in bands and traveling with them across the country are long gone. Travel doesn’t have the allure it once did, and that’s probably why I’ve boned almost every dude who works at this Jimmy John’s.

Okay, so it’s not exactly like being a groupie. I’m not riding a tour bus, attending sold-out concerts, or partying all night in trashed hotel rooms. Mostly, I’m just hanging around by the “Free Smells” sign waiting until the lunch crowd dies down so that some 20-year-old named Derek or Zach or whatever can go down on me in the handicapped bathroom.

But there are a lot of similarities, too! Just like the classic groupies, I’m there to give these immature, emotionally-stunted bros some much-needed attention and support. And there are plenty of perks for me, too. It’s sort of like being Kate Hudson in ‘Almost Famous,’ except instead of backstage access and free acid, I usually have to settle for a half-off turkey sub and free Mountain Dew refills.

You might be wondering how things got to this point. It’s not like I set out to smash every single employee. It’s just that pretty much every guy working here is the same, and he is my type. They all have GEDs and neckbeards and their idea of a romantic date night is watching ‘300’ in their parent’s half-finished basement. It’s sexy as fuck.

I don’t know what to tell you, I like what I like.

Trust me, there are times I wish I could break away from the temptation of the Jimmy John’s staff and their chubby, cargo-shorted hogs. But where else can you meet a man nowadays? I tried hanging out at Jersey Mike’s, but when I flirted with the guys there they got scared and called the cops. And it’s sad to say, but pretty much every man who works at a Subway or Quiznos is destined to die a virgin.

So next time you get the craving for some Jimmy John’s, keep an eye out for me. Don’t be shy, you can even come over to my table and say hi. But do yourself a favor and watch your step if you see a “Wet Floor” sign over by the soda fountain. Trust me, that’s not Pepsi.

Review: Don Broco “Amazing Things”

Posted on by John Danek

Usually when it’s time for The Hard Times to review an album, one of our editors hunts down a writer and gives them a noogie until they tap out and agree to listen to new music. This time, the process was a little different.

I was flipping through my mail, ignoring the usual junk like coupon mailers and loan default notifications when something caught my eye: a gold envelope sealed with wax addressed “To: Fake Punk.” Whoever this was, they knew me well.

The contents of the letter simply stated that The Don requests my unique album-reviewing acumen; I should wait for a ride near the jungle gym at the park at midnight. Considering that I just finished binging all of “Murphy Brown” and that nothing else was popping up on my social calendar, I went.

A gold car picked me up and demanded I wear a bag over my head. Little did they know, I’m into that sort of thing. But after a 45-minute drive, I was ushered out of the car. Someone ripped the bag off and I was in a large dining room. A cloaked figure sat at the head of a table and spoke.

“I, The Don, leader of the Broco Family, summoned you here to review my boys’ album Amazing Things. You will listen.” He dropped the needle on the record player and it played. 47 minutes later, after the last notes decayed into oblivion, The Don spoke again.

“So Fake Punk, what do you think?”

And I replied the only way I knew how: honestly. I said that it kinda sounded like back when Muse were sorta good, like that song “Hysteria.” That whole “Absolution” album was decent, right? After that, they started to sound like focus-grouped rock for Monster Energy addicts. No offense to Muse, get that bag. But-

“SILENCE, WORM! You’ve rambled for long enough.” But little did The Don know that I won’t let anyone speak to me like that unless I’m paying them specifically to do so. I ran up and ripped his cloak off. It was The Hard Times’ Editor-in-Chief Bill doing his terribly offensive Italian-American accent! He grabbed me and gave me a noogie until I agreed to review Simple Plan’s latest record.

Score: 3 KAOSS pads built into guitars out of 5

/**/

Unhinged Psycho Prefers Band’s Later Stuff

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

SPRINGFIELD, Mass. — Local maniac Cole Kristoff openly admits he prefers the most recent releases from his favorite metal band Iron Weaver, outraged sources confirmed.

“People call me crazy, but I happen to like the fact that the vocals are talk-screamed now. I can actually understand the lyrics on their last four albums, and don’t even get me started on how much better the drums sound,” said Kristoff while playing the band’s latest release “Devil’s Water.” “I’m sorry if I think their early albums are too full of youthful aggression and sound a bit raw. I know everyone misses the original lead guitarist, and it’s tragic that he died in a barn fire, but the guy that replaced the replacement is just as good if not better. I especially like how he’s pushed the band to lean into more ballads.”

Friends of Kristoff live in a constant state of anxiety thanks to his music preferences.

“Cole will send me a link to a new Iron Weaver music video and be like ‘you have to see this,’ and it’s the band playing in another abandoned warehouse with a bunch of shaky camera angles so you can’t really see how slow they are moving. I keep telling him the band hasn’t been good since I was in fourth grade,” said long-time friend Don Beltran. “When he got married last year, he had six Iron Weaver songs on the wedding playlist, and all of them were released after 2010. About 30 people left the wedding after the second song. I would have left too, but I was the Best Man.”

Medical professionals are hoping to add “Preferring a Band’s Later Stuff” as a recognized mental illness in the DSM-5.

“I want to make it clear, you can still enjoy new music from your favorite band. But if a band has been around for more than fifteen years and you think they’re writing their best music yet, then you need to be removed from society because you’re a danger to yourself and anyone around you,” said Dr. Mel Aneese. “When musicians get sober, have children, and are successful enough to hire money managers, it’s literally impossible for them to write something as good as they did when they were actually starving. Their rough edges have been dulled, and now they are just doing an impression of their younger selves, even if they are ‘technically’ more proficient musicians now.”

Update: Kristoff is currently in a coma after being beaten within an inch of his life after saying “season 33 of ‘The Simpsons’ is the funniest season yet.”

Photo by Chris Cole.

We Reached Out to a Guy Who Posted a Meme Saying He’d Help Us Pack if the American Flag Offended Us and We Gotta Admit He’s Doing a Great Job

Posted on by Mimi Kenny

We all know moving is the worst, and packing is maybe the worst of the worst. There was so much we needed to load up for our big move and not enough time. We decided to take a chance and ask a guy who posted a badly-compressed meme with a watermark reading: “TRUEPATRIOTS” and whose Facebook profile pic was of his bicep tattoo of the Staind logo.

At first, we weren’t sure how sincere he was. But since he replied to the post with, “I mean it!” we figured to take his word for it.

After introducing ourselves and explaining our stance on the American flag as a symbol of capital-driven oppression, he asked us to fill out a brief questionnaire about how much stuff we’ll be moving and what dates would work best for us. When we inquired about his rates he told us “one less libtard is payment enough” and that we would only have to reimburse him for fuel.

This guy has some pretty reprehensible views, but we have to admit he is a damned efficient mover! He had us packed and loaded in 3 hours flat. I don’t think those InfoWars supplements have been “recalibrating his parietal enzymes” as he says, but he was a massive help all the same.

Granted, there were a few issues. Any time we offered him water, he would rant something about how regular hydration is responsible for the emasculation of society. Also, he kept recommending we check out these comedians who were deplatformed for “being too real.”

He found a way to argue for mandatory school prayer while measuring the dimensions of a refrigerator box, but we can’t bash his method for storing plates.

Micro-rants and terrible youtube recommendations aside, he was pretty pleasant throughout the entire process, happy even. He said that moving actually soothes him a bit because it’s “nice to focus on something other than the cabal of liberal pedophiles eroding our democracy for a while.”

He was a little ticked off when he found out we weren’t moving out of the country and had just found a better place down the street. He calmed down when we reminded him that we would be 900 yards further from him and that when the time came to renunciate our citizenship, we would hit him up.

Doctors Baffled by Prog Guy’s 11/8 Time Signature EKG Readings

Posted on by Chris Bowen

CHICAGO — Several Doctors at Rochester University School of Health Sciences were left with a few questions Saturday after examining a man who claimed to be a big prog rock fan’s unusual and wonky EKG rhythm, several confused white coat-clad sources report.

“Well, Mr. Crimson came into the hospital complaining of an unusual finger cramping in his left hand,” Dr. Slayton, lead cardiologist, explained. “So we hooked him up to the EKG machine which is a routine procedure, and that’s when we noticed his unusually intricate, seemingly off-time heartbeat. The entire staff didn’t understand what was going on, it just didn’t sound good…but it also did at the same time? A lot of 50 year old dudes who were waiting for prostate exams seemed drawn to the sound of the EKG machine. We tried shocking his heart back into a more traditional rhythm, but to no avail.”

Prog rock fan Harold Crimson finds there’s nothing out of the ordinary about how confusingly off-time his blood pumps through his body.

“I’m not sure why all these egghead doctors are so shocked at seeing an EKG this complex, I mean, after all, they are supposed to be highly educated,” Crimson stated. “My 11/8 heartbeat and pulse is just a natural progression in the evolution of man. I understand not everyone can comprehend the intricacies of unconventional time signatures and tempos like a sophisticated prog fan such as myself, but soon medical science will prove that dweebs like me reign supreme on a molecular level.”

Professor Peter Obrero at Johns Hopkins University spoke about other medical abnormalities that coincide with the person’s musical preferences.

“Mr. Crimson’s bizarre heartbeat isn’t really that bizarre at all, actually,” Obrero said as he put down his Tool LP he used for reference. “In fact, one guy who was such a fan of the band Goblin would literally walk with his steps in all sorts of whacky polyrhythms. And it doesn’t only happen with prog fans. There’s been a couple instances where grindcore fans have had EKGs registered at 220 BPM and doom fans registering at 10 BPM. How any of them are still alive is a medical marvel.”

At press time, Mr. Crimson was spotted trying to alter the timing belt inside his car’s engine to match his unusual heart beat rhythm.

So You’ve Alienated All Your Creative Partners, Bandmates, and Friends: How to Rent a Winter Cabin for Your Solo Project

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

We’ve all been there. Because of your incredibly toxic, controlling behavior and inability to collaborate with anyone who shows a modicum of independent thought, you’ve alienated all your creative partners, blind fools of bandmates, and so-called friends. You’ve come to the moment all true creative geniuses do. You need to rent an isolated cabin in the middle of winter where you can record a heartbreaking, lo-fi album about how everyone sucks but you.

Fortunately, we are here to help you logistically figure out how to rent the perfect place to record your magnum opus about all the haters that have held you back this whole time.

Scout the Area
First, make sure the cabin is isolated and snowy. Remember, this will be the emotionally intense, definitely-unplanned cover image of your solo album, so remove any visible hints of belonging to the 21st century like electric lights, a satellite dish, or your Ford F150.

Find the Most Antiquated Equipment Possible, Because Art
Before you trek up to your backwoods womb of isolation in which you will bare all your thoughts and feelings to a generation, make sure you get some super old-ass recording equipment. It will probably sound like shit, but this is for art.

Procure Lots of Whiskey
So much Jim Beam. You’re going to need to get really tanked up there because what else will there be to do?

Have Your Parents Pay the Rent
This is the single most important thing for any true artist like you. Since you kicked everyone out of your band, your life, and your financial prospects, you’re going to need to be subsidized. Get on the phone and tell them they need to put a first, last, and three-month payment on the cabin, otherwise, they have ruined your fucking life forever. Plus, they need to have Amazon deliver some groceries up there.

Dad Keeps Calling Son’s Hopes and Dreams “A Hobby”

Posted on by Chris Jones

TOPEKA, Kan. — Local guitarist Austin Henderson is reportedly fed up with his father calling his lifelong dream of making a living as a musician “a hobby” for the ninth time this week, confirmed sources currently consoling the son.

“My dad just doesn’t get it, man,” expressed Henderson, 30-year-old frontman of local undiscovered punk band Flyover Pits. “I’ve told him time and time again that he needs to respect my passion if he ever wants backstage tickets when I’m inevitably headlining sold out shows at Madison Square Garden. One day I’m going to get out of this tiny shit-stain of a town thanks to a one-way ticket called music stardom. We’ll see what losers still have the nerve to call my life’s work ‘a hobby’ when Mom Jeans is opening for my shows instead of the other way around.”

Henderson’s father doubled down and defended his resentment of his son’s pursuit of his dream.

“Look, I know everyone loves to hear a good tune at the occasional visit to your local honky-tonk. Don’t get me wrong—music is a fun hobby and all, but it’s definitely no way to support a family of 12 like we typically produce out here in Kansas,” explained Virgil Henderson. “I know he’s worked for this music dream his whole life and all, but it’s not like he’s the next Ted Nugent. Austin needs to just take my advice and sacrifice his soul to work with me at the factory. If he works hard and keeps his head down he can make up to $19 an hour. After all, hopes and dreams are for movies and fantasy sports, not the real world.”

Lifelong fan of Flyover Pits, Trevor O’Kelly, was quick to back up Austin’s passion for performing music professionally.

“Maybe it’s just because I’m pretty much the only fan that goes to his shows and his roommate, but I really feel like Austin’s going places!” cheered Trevor. “Last show he even was able to get at least ten people at the bar to look up from their conversations and notice there was actually a live band playing. Usually they just ignore the band altogether, so I’d definitely call that progress. I have to back up Austin’s dream on this. We really lean on each other, ya know? I support his dream of becoming a famous musician just like he supports my dream of being best friends with a famous musician.”

As of press time, Henderson was further irritated after his father referred to the album artwork he worked hard on as “a little doodle.”

Poor Band Reduced to Eating Drink Ticket Casserole for Dinner Again

Posted on by James Knapp

DOVER, Del. — Struggling power-thrash band Boot Full of Piss recently sat down to a predictably cheap dinner made up of a bunch of unused drink tickets baked together into something that might be supposed to resemble food, sources who had to sell the tour van to pay for gas confirmed.

“Look at what we’ve been reduced to. It’s times like this I wish we hadn’t all lost our jobs at Guitar Center for getting drunk behind the Peavey display,” bemoaned drummer Smitty Twindles. “That we even had to save these tickets in the first place is pretty depressing. No band should ever have to choose between food and booze – or amphetamines, for that matter. Thankfully my aunt died last week so I took everything in her fridge and we mixed it all together with the drink tickets to make this mess. It might kill us, but this is the price you pay.”

Several venue owners defended their decision not to pay the band in any currency other than an exchange note for lukewarm Bud Lights.

“Those jags are lucky to have gotten anything at all. They played for like four people… on a Saturday headlining spot! Honestly, I think people avoided this place just because they were here,” explained Doug Klondike, owner of The Beached Whale taproom. “They should probably just quit while they’re ahead. Maybe try trade school. The world needs plenty of plumbers and they’re used to dealing with shit anyway.”

Punk celebrity chef, Pit Beef, was supportive of the band’s innovative use of drink tickets as cuisine.

“As I explain in my books Eat Me: 101 Recipes For Touring Bands and The KKK To My Lasagna Away: Fighting Facism With Oregano, when you’re in a band sometimes you need to be creative when you’re figuring out where your meal is coming from,” said the heavily tattooed star of Viceland’s “Eat Me Out.” “Are there a bunch of half-full beer cans laying around from the party last night? That’s breakfast now. Did the drummer run over a cat with the tour van? That’s lunch. I applaud these boys and their ingenuity – and you can read all about that in my next book Touring on a Budget: How To Convince Your Bassist There are Calories In the Air.”

At press time, Boot Full of Piss was still attempting to choke down the casserole with the promise of drink ticket pudding if they were all in the clean plate club.