Opinion: It’s Kinda Fucked up That You Got a Restraining Order Just Because I Named My Chainsaw After You

Posted on by John Danek

You’ve really crossed the line this time. Consider my feelings officially hurt. A restraining order?!? Never in my life have I been so insulted.

All I did was name my sweet, sweet new 24” ECHO CS 590 chainsaw after you, and mail a cute postcard to you with each individual letter cut out from different magazines. If anything, you should be honored.

I only name my dearest implements after my favorite people in the world. So what if we “aren’t that close” or “haven’t technically ever met”? I knew from the moment I saw you get a McChicken at the McDonalds off the interstate that we had something special. The following hours watching you only confirmed this further.

Maybe it’s time for you to start learning some gratitude exercises. Do you keep a journal? I do, and it has changed my life. The only downside is that I get lightheaded after refilling the pen with my own blood repeatedly. Still, I believe it has made me a more mindful person and better active listener.

I’m not the one being unreasonable here. Did you ever think that it may be a bit narcissistic to assume that my chainsaw is named after you specifically? Just because it has the same exact name and social security number carved into the blade doesn’t mean everything is about you. There could be a million Marquees Keith Dawson III’s running around Slope County, North Dakota.

Do you know how much this is going to ruin my daily routine? Now that I can’t be within 100 yards of you, how am I going to dip my tongue in your oat milk while you sleep? How am I going to sniff the back of your driver’s seat’s headrest? My whole life is upended just because you think the world revolves around you.

I’m not even supposed to be sending you this letter. But I just can’t keep my feelings to myself. You are toxic. My therapist thinks you may be projecting your own messed up issues onto me. Story of my life.

How Can You Say White People Don’t Like Spices When I Literally Drink Pumpkin Spice Lattes All the Time?

Posted on by Bobby Korec

Excuse me, did you just say white people don’t like spices? Well, how can that be the case when I’m on my third pumpkin spice latte today alone?

Golly gee. The nerve of some people to just assume I don’t like flavor based on the color of my skin. It’s time we move past this as a society.

I mean, yeah, I don’t like chili, parsley, wasabi, curry, oregano, cayenne pepper, rosemary, basil, nutmeg, ginger, thyme, marjoram, bay leaves, salsa, cumin, garlic, onion, sriracha, anything with the word “smokey” in it, as well as any food from the Eastern and Southern Hemispheres. Oh, and I also can’t handle any hot sauce whatsoever. Not even ketchup. But besides those few outliers, bring on the spices. More specifically, this delicious pumpkin-based one I got from Starbucks.

I’m not alone in this either. Believe it or not, I actually know a ton of white people who drink pumpkin spice lattes every single day of their lives. In fact, I don’t know any white people who don’t drink it constantly. Sometimes all I see are white people pouring it down their gullets.

Even the Starbucks baristas somehow already know I’m going to order a pumpkin spice latte the minute the calendar hits September 1st. It’s like they can tell how much I like spices based on my vibe.

On the other hand, I don’t know a single person of color who drinks pumpkin spice beverages. Coincidence? Honestly, I don’t really know any people of color off the top of my head. Maybe though?

And pumpkin spice isn’t the only spice I like either. Just the other day I made a delicious homemade soup with just a pinch of salt and pepper. See? Those are technically spices. Seriously, can’t get enough of the stuff.

So yeah, maybe it’s time to end this stereotype once and for all. Not only is it untrue, but it also makes white people look narrow-minded, which is clearly outrageous.

Bass From High School Completes Sixth Interstate Move Without Seeing Light of Day

Posted on by Anna Walsh

ST. AUGUSTINE, Fla. — Local woman Nina Hernandez reportedly took the time to pack and load the starter bass she received in high school for a sixth time without ever actually playing the instrument, a coalition of confounded roommates report.

“I got it for Christmas when I was 15 and noodled around for a few months, but back then, once summer came I was way too busy drinking those good Four Lokos and going to the beach. Plus, no one told me it’s wicked hard to play bass. If I wanted an instrument this hard to learn I would’ve gotten a guitar. Still, once about every year and a half I think about taking lessons, so I just can’t get rid of it,” Hernandez explained while shoving the bass into the back corner of her new closet. “I’ve moved it from the east coast to the west coast, back to the east coast, to Arkansas, Chicago, and then finally to Florida. The good thing is the case only takes up six full feet of whatever room I’m renting, and I only notice how incredibly heavy it is when I have to pick it up to move out.”

Hernandez’ former roommate Kiko Pei explained their doubts about the fabled instrument.

“There’s cobwebs all over the case. I tripped over it at least twice a week when Nina was living here and I still don’t know what color the fucking bass is. Honestly, I’m not even sure there’s anything in there,” Pei said, looking mildly irritated. “When she first moved in, she said she’d been playing bass for seven years, but I really think she meant she’s played that bass seven times in total. When she moved out, I told her about this music store in town that accepts instrument donations, but she insisted she’d play it at her new place, and spent a full 40 minutes reconfiguring all the shit in her car so that the bass would fit.”

Adolescent therapist Dr. Paula Niham offered some insight as to why Hernandez has such an attachment to the instrument.

“Most teens get attached to an object when they move out of their parental home for the first time as a token of security and comfort. Of course, in Ms.Hernandez’ case, she chose perhaps the bulkiest and most useless item possible. More puzzling still is the fact that she
completely ignores the instrument, not even opening the case to look at it, nevermind utilize it,” Dr. Niham stated. “And despite 15 years of experience in this field, I can’t identify why she continues to move it from house to house a decade after her teenage years have ended.”

At time of publication, Hernandez was seen struggling to lift the bass into a station wagon, fully blocking her rear view.

Tribute Album Shows What Classic Album Would Be Like If All the Songs Were Totally Mediocre

Posted on by Mimi Kenny

PHOENIX, Ariz. — A track-for-track covers album of Black Sabbath’s “Master of Reality” offers a remarkable glimpse at what the iconic album would sound like if every track was lifeless and technically flawed, sources listening as a favor confirmed.

“We had been playing ‘Into the Void’ in the practice space for fun when our drummer came up with the idea of covering the whole thing,” said Aura War vocalist Kyle Joyce. “We found some tabs, and after practicing for a week and then recording for another, we ended up with something that sounds pretty close to the original. I mean, I’m not saying I sound just like Ozzy or anything. But I did my best. Well, kind of my best. I did something, that’s for certain.”

Jules McCafferty, a friend of the band, found even his modest expectations for the album weren’t met.

“I wasn’t expecting anything incredible, but man, as soon as I heard Kyle trying to recreate that cough at the beginning of ‘Sweet Leaf,’ I knew I was in for a rough time,” said McCafferty while grimacing. Everything just sounded so unrehearsed and awkward. I started to wonder if maybe the original was worse than I remembered. Fortunately, I quickly proved myself wrong. Still, fuck them for making me think that for even a minute.”

Music historian Dr. Gilbert Kathman says Aura War’s unsuccessful endeavor highlights an unfortunate trend common among groups of their stature.

“All bands can benefit from studying their forefathers and trying to replicate their work to better understand what makes it so special,” said Kathman. “But there’s a difference between doing that and half-assedly copying it. Sure, they might have the riffs to ‘Children of the Grave’ down pat, but do they know how to make them sound as raw and primal as Tony Iommi did? It doesn’t seem so. And frankly, they will never learn.”

At press time, Aura War performed the album in full at a release party, which showed what Black Sabbath’s legendary live shows would be like if everyone was stiff and couldn’t find a steady rhythm.

All Four Tires on Punk’s Car Are Spares

Posted on by Stephen Bell

HOUSTON — Local punk Alec Ryers revealed that all four tires on his heavily used Honda Fit were spares, according to sources familiar with the mohawked motorist.

“The first spare tire was because I ran over some glass I myself threw into the street while drunk,” said Ryers before noting that the owner’s manual didn’t technically say you couldn’t drive on spares exclusively. “Then I accidentally ran over my own jean jacket which was filled with pins so that took out another tire. Then I burst another tire trying to jump my friend using my younger brother’s skateboarding ramp. And come to think of it, I think I bought the car with one spare already. I didn’t have money to buy new tires, but thankfully I was able to ‘borrow’ these spares from my neighbors.”

Friends of Ryers discussed the difficulty of riding in a car with four spare tires.

“Alec’s car shakes like no other while driving, but he’s the only one wealthy enough to afford one,” said friend Taylor Wilson. “The shaking also makes up for the complete lack of bass in his stereo system when we listen to music. And while we are worried about the smaller tires gripping the road, when we fit seven of us in there we think we’re weighed down enough to cancel that out.”

Auto mechanic Chuck “The Wrench” Adams expressed concern for the vehicle.

“OK wow, you should not be driving like that,” said Adams. “You aren’t supposed to go above 50 miles per hour for one thing when driving on a spare, let alone four. Plus a spare tire is only good for about 70 miles. Supposedly he’s gone on these tires for 10,000 miles. I am honestly willing to give him some tires for the safety of the public if he’d stop driving this car like that. Otherwise, someone is going to use this spare tire guy for spare organs.”

At press time, it was confirmed that in addition to having a car with all spare tires, Ryers also owned a bicycle that was all training wheels.

How I Made It Through Sober October in Just Two Weeks

Posted on by Tom Peters

Each October, people around the globe make the choice to give up drinking for an entire month. The 31-day challenge known as “Sober October” allows people to give their bodies a break and reexamine their relationship with alcohol.

I decided to give this Sober October thing a shot and you won’t believe what I found! Everything I had expected to come from a month of no booze was pretty much knocked out about halfway through. That’s right, I did Sober October in just two weeks.

Better sleep? Check. Increased immune system? Sure, I guess. Weight loss and improved cardiovascular health? Well, I just made it from the fridge back to the couch without getting winded so you tell me.

You might be thinking that I actually didn’t complete Sober October and that I, in fact, failed to reach my goal. But Sober October is all about reassessing your relationship with alcohol, so why shouldn’t that include moving the goalposts on how long you take a break? Well, the fact that I managed to reap all the rewards of a month of abstinence in half the time is a testament to how little I needed to take time off drinking in the first place.

The moment I knew my month-long journey was complete was about eleven days in when my team won at trivia night. The exhilaration of victory combined with the company of good friends showed me that I had a pretty good sense of what was important in life and that I was exactly where I needed to be. Plus our prize was a $50 bar tab so what was I going to do, not drink? I would basically be losing money. That’s when I realized I had learned everything sobriety had to teach me and I joined my friends in celebrating our win with a cool ten bucks off my $84 bar tab.

So if you think you could benefit from the rejuvenation and clarity that Sober October provides, the good news is that you’ve got another year to think about it. But next time October rolls around, give it a try. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be able to beat my personal speed record.

Review: Basement “Colourmeinkindness”

Posted on by Ted Pillow

Each week, we like to review an album from our vast, almost endless, record collection. This time around we’re taking a look at Basement’s second album, “Colourmeinkindness.”

When I told my wife I’d be reviewing a record from English indie rockers Basement, she stopped me dead in my tracks.

“They’re named Basement? Well, if you’re going to listen to that shit over and over again, it’s the perfect opportunity to spend some time in that extravagant Man Cave you built in the basement.”

“Sure, honey!” I replied, trying to sound brave. Because this has become sort of an issue, on account of my wife thinking I don’t use the elaborate Man Cave I spent $25,000 on because I’m scared of our basement.

No way! Like, seriously, I’m not even a little bit terrified to go hang out in my Man Cave. It’s like, so relaxing. Yesterday I stayed down there for a whole three minutes playing foosball before I heard a weird clanking noise and got the fuck out of there.

Eager to prove her wrong, I made my way to the cellar with the album in hand, tiptoeing down the rickety wooden stairs so as to not wake up any monsters or vampires or hobgoblins.

Sitting down gingerly on my $2,000 gaming chair, I hit play and let the emo-tinged album wash over me. However, at some point during an unbearably lengthy 32 second instrumental opening, I saw what appeared to be a spider and ran upstairs shrieking. Fortunately, closer examination by my wife revealed that the alleged spider was, in fact, a stale pretzel.

But can we really trust her judgment? Perhaps not, as she also identified me as a “big time pussy.” Which is exactly the sort of knee-jerk reaction I try to avoid in my music criticism.

No matter how many times I tried to get comfortable in the Man Cave, I couldn’t shake that eerie dread. The kegerator, the oversized adult bean bag chairs, my Charles Grodin limited edition Blu-ray collection – none of it brought me comfort.

Even the red Solo cups on my “Beer Pong Rules” poster glowed upon me like a set of demonic eyes.

Hey, Hard Times editors…do me a favor and let me know when you need a review for a band called Home Office or something.

Score: 2.3 out of 10 spooky noises

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ASL Interpreter at Pearl Jam Show Just Kinda Winging It

Posted on by Sean Mullee

SEATTLE — Local American Sign Language interpreter Catelyn Mitchell admitted that she was just kind of winging the signs on stage during a recent Pearl Jam show, confused audience members confirmed.

“I’ve been doing this for a decade so usually I’m pretty quick, but these guys’ lyrics are above me and I can’t make out a single thing coming out of that man’s mouth,” explained Mitchell. “It’s like a Lovecraft story, you can’t describe what you’re hearing in any language known by man. By the halfway point, I felt like all my soul had been drained from my body as if I hadn’t slept in days, so when he started climbing the scaffolding for 10 minutes I was just happy to get a break. Thank God Pearl Jam shows pay time-and-a-half for exactly this reason.”

Patrick Reynolds, a deaf attendee, was quick to come to the defense of Mitchell’s performance.

“I can’t blame her for trying, I don’t usually go to Pearl Jam shows for the lyrics anyways. But she was definitely just signing ‘Plush’ by Stone Temple Pilots at one point,” said Reynolds. “She must be a Neil Young fan, though, because she started to hit a stride when they covered ‘Rockin in the Free World.’ It was a brief confidence boost that was quickly shattered when she had to start signing ‘Yellow Ledbetter’ immediately after.”

Pearl Jam frontman Eddie Vedder was surprised that the issue of intelligibility continues to arise at their performances after decades of popularity.

“I can’t even order my McRibs from the drive-thru, they always get my name wrong at Starbucks, and my Alexa keeps ordering the wrong type of laundry detergent,” said an exasperated Vedder. “I mean c’mon, guys, it’s been 30 years, I don’t know what’s so hard about translating the words ‘even flow, tohsorowah-lie butta fry syea!’ Not even the auto-generated captions on our music videos on YouTube are accurate. Like, the lyrics are clearly not ‘Jeremy spoke in class today’ like YouTube would have you believe.”

At press time, Mitchell was found attempting to handcuff herself and swallow the key after being scheduled to sign for Scott Stapp at an upcoming Creed show.

5 Dangerous New Drugs Teens Are Using or Maybe My Nephew Was Just Messing With Me

Posted on by Dan Kozuh

It seems like every other day a news report comes about concerning a new type of upper, downer, psychedelic, or inhalant that is ripping its way through our school system. Like the Satanic Panic of the 90s, many of these reports are filled with scare tactics and dubious reporting. But there still are new drugs being used by our children and I decided that it would only be prudent to actually go to the source and find out the real deal.

Under the promise of confidentiality, I interviewed my fifteen-year-old nephew, son of my sister Genevive Hollingsworth, about five new drugs being used. I’ll be honest, some of these sound implausible and I think he may have just been deceiving me.

5. Hydrophillicontothyizide
Supposedly this is a medication typically prescribed to house cats for Pelger-Huët Anomaly. Suburban teenagers have started taking this as a way to get high. My nephew tells me that it makes you feel like a single sheet of loose leaf paper. I can’t imagine wanting to feel like that but to each their own, I guess. I’m a cool uncle, you see, no judgment here.

4. Boofballs
Ok this cannot be true. I am told that this refers to dipping a cotton ball in dry vermouth and placing it up your rectum. My source indicated many kids do this just before school every morning and it makes the day “more tolerable” and that they are able to focus better.

3. The Maine Squeeze
Coming out of the Portland, Maine drug scene, Maine Squeeze sounds more like an activity than a drug. The “object” is to do a bong rip of Pine-Sol laced marijuana then have your friends wrap you up in a wet blanket and then waterboard you with Labatt Blue. Whatever happened to just smoking a joint and drinking a beer?

2. Substance D
Ok, I Googled this one and it is definitely fake. Apparently, it comes from the book A Scanner Darkly. But then again, what if they named the real drug after the drug in the book?! Now I don’t know what to believe. I tried to watch the movie A Scanner Darkly when it first came out but the animation gave me motion sickness.

Professor Tingles’ Chrono-Roll
A drug that makes you believe you are Charles Orlando, Dauphin of France?! Well, clearly, my blood relative has made all of these up. He’s been on TikTok all day streaming about how he tricked his stupid uncle. But now I’m at my deadline and have to turn something in. I hope you’re happy, you little shithead. It would be a shame if it was casually mentioned in a popular news blog how you shit your pants at a family reunion in 2021 and were too embarrassed to say anything so you just sat in your soil all day until your loving uncle noticed and promised never to tell anyone.

Uh-oh: I Forgot To Take the Bernie Sticker off My Harley Before Arriving at Sturgis

Posted on by Jose Balderas

One of the rites of passage of being a Harley-Davidson owner is taking a trip up to Sturgis, South Dakota to mingle with your free-spirited brethren in a week-long festival celebrating our love of the open road and loud exhaust. After finally getting some time off from my non-profit work, I decided it was time to make the pilgrimage and ride to the holy land of hogs. Unfortunately, when I got here I realized I never took the “Bernie Sanders For President” sticker off my bike. Uh-oh!

It was too late to do anything about it. Plus, trying to tear it off could damage the paint. I regretted not donating a few dollars more for the magnet. I was dreading the worst but the throngs of bikers ended up accepting me as one of their own. Almost every interaction started with someone yelling some variation of “Let’s Go Brandon,” which opened the door for me to say “No, it’s Bernie!” Then I’d point to my sticker, which then led to mutual laughs. Next thing you know we’re in the bar crushing some brewskies and exchanging emails.

For every threat of violence, there was a shared laugh. For every insult thrown at me, there was an acknowledgment of my sweet ride. It seemed that the political views signaled by the sticker on my motorcycle may have branded me as an outsider, though I was welcomed with open arms. Besides the slashed tire at the end of the week, Sturgis was a memory I will always treasure. It also helped that no one noticed my RBG-inspired leathers.