Now That We’ve Seized the Means of Production, Does Anyone Here Have Managerial Skills?

Posted on by Eric Navarro

We’ve done it, comrades! We fought the bourgeoisie tooth and nail and ultimately seized the means of production. We can remake the world in our utopian image. We can rally together, paving the way for a new working class that upholds equity and meritocracy and will hopefully inspire others around the world to do the same. That said, we’re pretty fucking disorganized right now. Does anyone here have managerial skills?

To clarify: we don’t want management experience. If you have that, let us know so we can hang you like the others.

We have to get our shit together quickly, while the fire is still burning. And I mean that literally. The fires that resulted from our merciless revolt are still burning all over this factory and we will all asphyxiate if we don’t do something about it soon. At this point, someone who just knows how to build a spreadsheet could be a big help.

The world is watching. And we can’t have them see us looking all disheveled and prole-like. Tuck that shirt in, comrade! In fact, we should probably institute a dress code. And a work schedule. Can anyone here help take the lead on that?

You know what, if no one is willing to step up and take some charge around here, I will. Within mere days of my leadership, we will be ready to show the world our perfect society! Hey, wait, what are you guys doing with that noose?

Rockabilly Ex-Smoker Rolls Pack of Nicorette Into T-Shirt Sleeve

Posted on by Zachary Wolf

WAKEFIELD, Quebec — Local rockabilly scene member and ex-smoker Dewey “Hepcat” Henderson recently rolled a pack of Nicorette up into the sleeve of his t-shirt, according to sources who still smoke.

“I quit smoking—Or at least I’m trying to. The not smoking part is always a struggle, but I really find myself missing a lot of the smoking-related rituals too, sashaying a pack of cigarettes under my sleeve for all to see,” said Henderson as he tuned an upright bass. “Not getting cancer is good. But this stuff just doesn’t hit the spot after I change the struts on a ‘57 Chevy, or when I take my best gal up to lover’s lane. Why, I’d trade all the Carl Perkins records in Memphis for just one Lucky Strike. On one hand my sense of taste has never been better since I quit smoking darts, which is good, but on the other hand I have to always chew Nicorette, so that’s a drag.”

Henderson’s new habit was noticed by others in the local rockabilly scene, whose members often adhere to a strict dress code.

“He looks like a total square,” said local greaser Steve “Blacktop” Ballard as he gave someone a homemade tattoo with oil he wrung from a rag. “Especially since he always walks around with a stick of gum behind his ear. Makes me embarrassed to be seen at the drive-in with him. He’s a tough kid, great fighter, but he’s always chomping away at that gum like some bad movie villain. Plus he’s been messing up his pre-rumble dance numbers, which I’m sure is also related.”

Experts say that adapting counterculture values from the 1950s to modern society is a challenge for many of today’s rockabillies.

“Mixing yesterday’s rebellious values with today’s focus on physical and mental health can be a fine line to walk,” said pop culture expert Samir Athi as he browsed songs on a jukebox. “Sometimes they can be loyal to outdated, damaging values and misinformed, rose-colored nostalgia. Sure we love the sock hops, pompadours, and classic cars, but people forget that rockabilly has deep roots in the appropriation of Black culture, incest, and illegal street racing that’s claimed countless lives. But hey, I for one praise ‘Hepcat’ Henderson. Good on him for modernizing old rockabilly tropes, even if in this case he’d look way cooler if he just started smoking again.”

At press time Dewey “Hepcat” Henderson was seen lighting a piece of Nicorette with a Zippo.

Checkmate Liberals: I’m Insanely Wrong About Everything but Very Good at Chess

Posted on by Dan Rice

So, you thought you could outwit me, did you? You thought you could waltz in here and effortlessly diffuse my attacks on your ideology? That you could categorically debunk every one of my outrageous claims without so much as a google search? Well, you were right, I clearly have no idea how the world works, but I still own this chess game. Checkmate!

Don’t try to lay into me with that “white privilege” talk. Unless of course, you’re referring to real-life “white privilege” which you forced me to concede begrudgingly is a thing. But as far as the statistical advantage I had playing white and therefore making the first move goes, my rook/bishop/pawn advantage is high enough point-wise to indicate that I would have won this game even if I were playing black!

I might be one of the most toxic examples of a “free thinker” since Bobby Fischer, but I’m the best-damned chess player since Bobby Fischer!

Perhaps if you hadn’t been so busy proving that Trump did not win the 2020 election you would have castled queen-side while you still could, but alas no. Now the day, save for a single argument about anything that actually matters in this world, is mine.

You cited ironclad data when I called Covid a “liberal hoax” and exposed my anti-vax sentiment to be nothing more than the warped snarl of a paranoid mind, well done. You also aligned your rook and your king, a critical mistake in chess!

I destroyed your mid-board defenses as effortlessly as you ruined my argument that modern-day republicans can take credit for ending slavery. You may have won the conversation, but I have one this arbitrary little board game! Check and mate libtard.

Oh wait, you can actually block my queen with your knight. Okay fine but that just delays the inevitable, for I… hmm, that actually puts me in check while simultaneously attacking my queen with your bishop. Okay… I’ll offer a draw?

Bassist Placed in Kick Drum After Band Can’t Find Any Blankets

Posted on by Antonio Cruise

BIRMINGHAM, Ala. — Bassist for grindcore band Apocalypse Cow was reportedly put inside of a kick drum during sound check after his bandmates could not locate a small blanket, witnesses who heard panicked sounds coming from the instrument confirmed.

“When we were unpacking our gear, I noticed that the blanket we normally use to mute the kick drum was nowhere to be found. At that point my bandmates and I huddled together to try to find a quick solution before the show was set to start,” said Apocalypse Cow lead vocalist Thomas McDaniel. “We needed something that was somewhat solid, could absorb a decent amount of sound waves, and not particularly valuable. And then it dawned on us that Hunter, our bass player, checked all the boxes.”

Hunter Burkman noted that he was happy to help out the band and enjoyed the experience of inhabiting an instrument.

“We’re all like a big family, and I was happy to come through for my bandmates. And I must say, I really appreciate them helping me contort my body so that it could fit it into that tiny cylindrical space,” stated Burkman. “One thing I found surprising was that it was actually cozy being in there. I felt this sense of warmth and safety–how I imagine an unborn child might feel in the womb. And when our drummer did the double kick parts it almost felt like a good deep tissue massage. Honestly, I crawled out of there refreshed after the show.”

Veteran sound tech Rowdy MacAnerney explained that there are a wide array of items that can help achieve the desired dampening effect on a kick drum sound.

“Yes, ideally you’d want to put a thin blanket or rolled up beach towel to muffle the overtones, but if you are in a pinch, a five-foot-nine Cacuasian in the fetal position will do the trick as well,” said MacAnerney while chuckling watching a video of Burkman curled up in the kick. “Not a lot of bands know this, but if you can get a couple of healthy kidneys pressed up against the drum head, you’ll get that punchy thud you’re looking for. Just remember to loosen the head a little bit to get some oxygen in there. A limp body won’t work.”

At press time, Burkman was seen aggressively stretching prior to the beginning of a show.

I’m the Guy That Decided Porn Ads Would Be Twice as Loud as the Video No Matter What

Posted on by Jerrod Kingery

You don’t know me, but chances are you know my work. Such is the world of advertising, you have a hand in people’s day-to-day lives without them even realizing it. That’s how you know you’re doing your job. And while I love and stand behind everything I’ve worked on in my career, there’s one innovation I’m particularly proud of. I’m the guy who decided ads on porn videos should be twice as loud as the clip you’re trying to watch.

Why do I do it? Because my artistic work shall not be ignored. TV commercials being louder than the programming they run in has been a complaint for generations, but hitting the mute button on the remote control is quick and easy. But when you’re sitting in front of a laptop in a darkened room as you click on a PornHub video, only to be greeted with 15 unskippable seconds of a computerized voice bleating “TRY NOT TO CUM!” while two CGI orcs fuck reverse-cowgirl in some freemium game’s desolate wasteland, your sex-addled brain can’t connect the dots fast enough to let go of your genitals to skip it before it’s finished. At which point you will have bore witness to my art.

I remember pitching this idea to my boss just after we won the account for SemenBlast Cum Exploder. When it came time to break the script I said, “we should hire a woman to moan loudly into a microphone and absolutely crank that shit up in post so the viewer has no choice but to really be present when experiencing my masterpiece.

Also, I do it because it’s really fucking funny. That’s honestly most of the reason.

Mighty Ducks Gave Me Unrealistic Expectations About the Bond That Would Form Between My Hockey Team and the Alcoholic Forced to Coach Us for Community Service

Posted on by Dan Rice

I grew up without a father. That’s why when I found out my hockey team was going to be coached by a dude with a DUI working off his community service requirement, I was pumped. If Disney taught me one thing, drunk drivers forced to work with children make great surrogate father figures. Well, whoever wrote that movie never met Coach Anders.

First off, this motherfucker still drinks. A lot. He shows up to practice noticeably drunk, and I don’t know what he’s got in that Gatorade bottle, but it sure isn’t Gatorade because he leaves practice way drunker. Just about the only feat of athleticism he’s taught us so far is how to dodge his Honda Civic when he recklessly barrels out of the parking lot.

When we started this season we were a ragtag group of misfits who could barely skate, let alone play hockey. Under Coach Anders’ tutelage, we’ve become a ragtag group of misfits who can’t play hockey that is often yelled at. Quack?

The only thing this guy does that even comes close to Gordon Bombay is he hits on our moms. All of our moms. There isn’t a single player on the team whose mom hasn’t been asked to “discuss Tim’s skating over diner some evening” and none of us are named “Tim.”

One time Coach Anders tied us all together in a bunch with a big rope in the middle of the ice. I thought it was a team-building exercise to teach us to skate as one, but apparently, he was just hungover and needed some “goddam peace and quiet.” He fucked off to a nearby pub and just left us there for 2 hours.

I thought maybe he turned a corner last week when he halted drills and told us all to bring it in. I remember thinking “This is it, this is where Coach is gonna give us the heartfelt speech that whips us into shape and turns this once failing hockey team into a make-shift family.” He took a good long look at the lot of us and said “My community service requirement has been fulfilled, smell ya later.” No one has seen him since. Fuck Disney.

Karaoke Crowd Watches in Horror as Another Victim Falls Prey to the Forgettable Verse of Song With Catchy Chorus

Posted on by Tom K

SAN DIEGO — Authorities scrambled to contain the damage Tuesday night after a local bar was hammered by what patrons are calling the most horrific karaoke performance in the last century.

“I’m still processing exactly what happened. You read about it online, you see it on the news, but you never expect it to be at your front door,” said Jessica Marm,  a witness to the event who is recovering at home. “What transpired, just hours ago, is beyond comprehension. Our community comes to Skullfuck Karaoke at Happy Bubbles Sprinkle Tavern and Spirits for a space that is holy and healing. A place to pour out our hearts and bare our souls. As I watched a becloaked man approach the microphone, primp his rattail, and address the MC as ‘hoss,’ I knew we were in trouble. All we can do now is pick up the pieces and continue putting our best Rihanna renditions forward.”

Tuesday’s devastation comes as part of an embattled history for the sing-a-long art form according to Dag Riston, the bartender on duty at the time of its most recent havoc.

“Poor bastard never had a chance. I’ve seen ‘is kind before. They come an’ they go. Dead look in the eye…like they’re lookin’ right through yer. Not even drinkin’. Just watchin’ and waitin’. See this scar here? Got that right after Bat Out of Hell came out, 1977,” said Riston. “And this knee don’t work so good since the summer of ska ’98. Once gentrification took over, people act like they’ve never encountered disastrous karaoke before. Back in the day, this is all it was.”

The US Department of Weeknight Enrichment, on scene midway through the second verse, issued an urgent public statement.

“After the developments of last night, we once again urge all nationwide participants in barroom karaoke to please use good judgment in your selection and only sing songs within your range,” said USDWE Director Bryce Pupford. “A quick scan of googled lyrics before your performance is not sufficient preparation. Know your bridges, know your verses, be prudent, and please…know which songs have the n-word in them. Thank you.”

At press time, Skullfuck Karaoke was on indefinite hiatus after a patron clumsily played air guitar through an extended instrumental section of a nine-minute Iron Maiden song.

Tool Setlist Written in Wingdings

Posted on by Henrik Persson

ST. PAUL, Minn. – Longtime Tool superfan Tim Linstrom claimed the setlist he stole from the stage of their Twin Cities concert was written entirely in Wingdings, confirmed slightly confused but not-entirely-surprised sources.

“At first, I didn’t notice anything because their songs have such weird names anyway. A black cube, a weird-looking M and something that resembles an iron cross could easily be the name of a Tool song, perhaps one of their shorter, more accessible 9-minute compositions,” said Lindstrom while displaying the strangely coded setlist. “Then it hit me that I’ve seen this stuff before: on my battered Compaq 20 years ago, when I was looking for fonts that took up more space so I could fill the minimum three pages I was supposed to write for English class. You know the one I mean.”

Kyle Gannon, a roadie who worked with Tool during the “Lateralus” and “10,000 Days” era, was less enthused by the discovery.

“It may seem weird because their fans think the band are mad geniuses and they will pour over the artwork for days looking for ‘clues’ and whatnot. But honestly, most of Tool’s visual identity comes straight out of Microsoft Creative Writer and the clipart they used to ship pre-loaded in the ‘90s,” said Gannon while fixing his ponytail. “You know those pictures of champagne glasses your parents would use to make their New Year’s invitation in like 1996? If you look long enough at shit from that era, you’ll find most of the imagery from ‘Lateralus.’ I’m honestly amazed it took so long for the truth to come out.”

Gary Stahl, professor of semiotics at University of Wisconsin-Madison, confirmed that the setlist was in fact written in the classic ‘90s Microsoft Wingdings font.

“There is no mistaking those symbols. Once I was able to establish that the weird-looking 69 symbol tilted 45 degrees is in fact an ‘A,’ and the kind-of-H-looking-thing is an ‘I,’ that was the Rosetta stone. We have learned the language of their home planet,” Stahl said while excitedly examining the paper with an oversized magnifying glass. “With this new knowledge, we may be able to learn how to communicate with these alien musicians after all. I heard they can play all their songs backwards, that’s pretty cool.”

Tool addressed the faux controversy with a statement to fans that read:

/**/

FDA Warns Against Viral “Kill Yourself Challenge”

Posted on by Matt McInerney

SILVER SPRING, Md. — The U.S. Food and Drug Administration is warning against a new challenge that has gone viral on TikTok, pressuring teens to “unalive themselves” in a variety of ways that admittedly look pretty cool on camera.

“Good to see you all, here we go again: I’d like to issue a warning against what is being called the ‘Kill Yourself Challenge.’ Also, while I do understand that nothing matters anymore, it is not clear to me why this is my jurisdiction and not the CDC’s,” sighed Mina Bowman, FDA spokesperson, as she waved to familiar journalists. “I feel like the title of said challenge explains why this is a bad idea. We just don’t want to see anyone get hurt fighting a tiger in a meat suit. Or butt-chugging lighter fluid on a hibachi grill. Or jumping a dirt bike into helicopter blades, even if it looks ‘rad’ in slow motion. So, America, please, just skip this one.”

Kaylie Hickman, a local teen and avid TikTok user, has been debating whether to give this a shot.

“Yeah, I’m thinking it over. On the one hand, it does sound dangerous to jam your face into a woodchipper or take 37 Tylenol then have a heavyweight boxer hit you with body shots. But on the other hand, my friends have all tried at least one of these, and they seem mostly fine,” said Hickman as she stared across the street at a roadside memorial. “Also, my Dad says we can’t trust the FDA. Or the government. And also that the lizard people are coming to take the flat earth. So if that’s true, it’s probably fine to do what all of my friends are doing, which is jumping off a bridge.”

Ira Cooper, a White House medical advisor, is fucking done.

“Oh my fucking god. Get your fucking vaccine, don’t cook with NyQuil, don’t eat horse dewormer. And Jesus fucking Christ, don’t just straight up kill yourself in increasingly bizarre ways,” said Cooper. “How the fuck is my job real? I went to medical school, specialized in infectious diseases, practiced for three decades, and I’m really fucking good at medicine. And I’m smart as shit. But all I do is beg idiots not to die for internet attention. That’s all I do! I’m gonna be the one killing myself if this keeps happening.”

At the conclusion of the press conference, everyone was too tired to tell you not to cut your thumb off, so, like, go ahead or whatever.

Coming on Too Strong? This Waitress Just Asked if I Wanted a Drink

Posted on by Doug Kolic

I guess it’s asking too much to have a nice quiet meal with my family at this restaurant without being hit on every second. Why can’t this waitress, who’s totally my type, just do her damn job without trying to get into my pants? Lady, you’re coming on way too strong and, no, you can’t buy me a drink. But, yes, we would like to hear tonight’s specials.

Maybe it’s my fault for being an irresistible alpha who’s deep into crypto, but it’s stuff like this that gets me in the doghouse with my wife. She’s always accusing me of flirting and cheating on her with dozens of women over the years, causing her to “have trust issues” and wonder if “marrying me was the single worst decision of her life.” So I’m glad she’s here to see for herself how chicks are always trying to set me up with their incessant sexual advances.

Wow, now the server wants to know how I’d like my steak. That’s a bit personal and quite frankly crossing the line. She might as well just come out and ask me how big my penis is because it’s obvious that’s what she really wants to know.

I gotta get give this hot-to-trot seductress something to get her off my back. For the sake of my family maybe I’ll just show her a dick pic on my phone. If that doesn’t work I’m definitely going to have a word with that female manager over there, who’s also pretty hot.

To be honest I’ve lost my appetite. I’m just going to avoid eye contact, pay, and go home. But of course, now she’s drawn a cute little happy face on the bill which is a clear sign she intends to stalk me for as long as it takes to get me into bed. But if that’s what it takes to end this nightmare, I better just nut up and show my kids what a real man does for his family.