Half-Finished Stick and Poke Already Infected

LAKEWOOD, Colo. — Local man Sean Richard is already showing signs of severe infection while getting a stick and poke tattoo from a close friend that claimed it would be “fine,” confirmed multiple grossed out sources.

“Yeah I’m starting to feel a little feverish and my arm looks kinda swollen, but that’s probably just from the brand of ink we’re using. It seems like people sometimes forget that tattoos are supposed to hurt, a little blood is normal, and your lymph nodes swelling up to the size of grapefruits is all part of the process,” said Richard while sitting in a puddle of his own sweat. “Scott (Calpin) did drop the needle on the ground, but he picked it up right away, and said ‘five-second rule.’ That’s as good as running the needle through an autoclave if you ask me.”

Calpin, who is notably not wearing gloves during the process of tattooing Richard, became defensive at the suggestion that Richard’s tattoo may already be infected.

“Everyone here is being way too sensitive telling me to ‘stop’ and ‘bring Sean to the hospital before this gets so bad they have to amputate his arm.’ I’ve done this dozens of times, I know what I’m doing,” said Calpin while wiping the tattoo with a wet fast food bag he found in the garbage. “This pus here is probably just from a pimple Sean didn’t know he had. We’re almost done anyway, and it’s gonna look sick once it’s finished. I’ve tattooed three other people this month and they’re all fine. I’ll do you next if you want, and if you’ve got 20 bucks.”

Linda Kane, a nurse at a Lakewood urgent care, saw some of the tattoo progress in a series of Instagram stories and was immediately distressed.

“I’ve seen a lot in my 18 years at this job, but nothing prepares you for something like that,” said Kane. “None of these people have had insurance, so they probably spent more here than they would have if they’d gone to a professional tattoo artist. The worst part is that none of them were even good. I can’t even tell what this is supposed to be with all the discharge and inflammation, but my gut tells me whoever’s getting it has a cover-up appointment in their future.”

At press time, Calpin was seen sneezing into his hand, which he did not wash before continuing the tattoo, and Richard reported that he was beginning to hallucinate, but that the tattoo was “looking dope.”

Photo by Jana Miller.

The Stereotype That Baby Boomers Struggle With Technology Is Unfair and Offensive to Us Period Send Alexa Add Ivermectin to Grocery List

You’ve already made up your mind about me. Just because I was born in 1949, you think I’m a helpless old woman in a big, scary digital world. Well you can just “cancel” yourself because your notion that my generation is a bunch of bumbling ham-fists, unable to navigate today’s technology, is offensive and needs to end! Period. Send. Alexa, please add Ivermectin to my grocery list.

We’ve heard the jokes about grandma sending you a birthday card with a one-dollar bill in it. Well, what if I told you I keep a Bitcoin-digging laptop (paid for by my reverse mortgage) under my mattress? That’s right, this crypto-Grandma can send your dollar through the blog chains.

You think you’re speaking in code, but we know all about your filthy eggplants. It’s no surprise that Zoomers have violated the sanctity of garden produce and co-opted our beloved penis vegetable. Oh, that reminds me! Alexa, add eggplants to my grocery list. Oh, that reminds me! Alexa, add Ivermectin to my grocery list. Oh, that reminds me! Siri, play the Joe Rogan Experience.

Like any young person, I get my news from random strangers sharing Fox News articles on Facebook. But those of us with advanced life experience understand that there’s more to social media than that. Social media has the wonderful ability to bring together family and friends that otherwise might not be able to do so and it truly warms me. Why wouldn’t we want to be a part of something that effortlessly connects us? I only wish that my dear, late Charlie was here to see how easy it is to anonymously harass the ethnic restaurants in our area.

Stinky Little Blanket Inside of Kick Drum Revolutionizes Band’s Sound

FITCHBURG, Mass. — Local drummer Andrew Kingston is reportedly ecstatic after seeing the tremendous results that placing a tiny, stinky, old blanket inside of his kick drum has had on the band’s overall sound, confirmed multiple impressed sources.

“They’ll write about this moment in the history books. This is going to have the same impact as Dylan going electric,” said Johnston while sitting in with his grind band Penile Amputation. “Originally this blanket was just something my parents kept in my backyard, then a stray dog had a litter of puppies on it and I considered throwing it out because it smelled so bad my neighbors complained. Then one day I put it inside my kick drum and it was like that scene in ‘The Wizard of Oz’ when it goes from black and white to color. and now it’s found a home inside my kick drum.”

Johnston’s mother, the original owner of the blanket, doesn’t quite get her son’s excitement.

“That blanket is 37 years old and it smells like the dumpster behind a seafood restaurant took a shit inside a hot car,” said Carla Johnston as she did her adult son’s laundry. “I told him I had nice new blankets with a higher thread count that he could use but he kept insisting that the stinkiness was ‘part of it.’ I just hope he doesn’t get sick from touching it, I know I’ve thrown up on that blanket at least four times and there was that raccoon a few years back that got hit by a car and ended up dragging itself under the blanket to die.”

Famed drumming expert Paul Dingle said this is part of a rich history of drum enhancement technology in rock and roll.

“They’ve stumbled upon the best-kept secret in music. Bands throughout the years have used everything from smelly quilts to duct tape on their snare to revolutionize the way we all experience the art of the drum,” said Dingle as he piddled away on his custom travel size bongo. “It’s said by many that Zeppelin was a complete failure until John Bonham discovered the impact placing his drum set on a small carpet had on the rest of the band. Some would say that carpet tied the whole band together”

Early reports indicate that the blanket is directly responsible for Penile Amputation’s sudden increase in Spotify plays from a cumulative 150 all the way to 162.

Photo by Chris Enriquez.

Woman Who Spends 98 Percent of Waking Hours in Apartment “Can’t Imagine” How Boring Suburbs Must Be

CHICAGO — Liz Remis, a medical transcriptionist and three-year Chicago resident, voiced her horror at the thought of living in the suburbs in spite of spending nearly every moment of her current existence inside her studio apartment, confirmed friends and family that only see her maybe once or twice a month.

“I just can’t imagine being trapped in such a mundane existence. It’s just the same thing every single day, it’s like all those people live in hell but they are too blind to see it,” said Remis while scrolling through a classmate’s Instagram and watching “Lady Bird” for the fourth time this month. “I love the energy and vibrancy of the city. I can look out my window and see the city is alive. Everyone in the suburbs is going to the same chain restaurants and experiencing no culture outside of Marvel movies at the multiplex. If that doesn’t describe ‘ennui,’ I don’t know what does.”

Eden Cassiani, a friend of Remis’, says her anti-suburbia stance is well-known, if not exactly logically consistent.

“Liz is always complaining about having to go home for the holidays and how lifeless everyone is there,” said Cassiani. “But she barely leaves Pilsen as it is. And even then, she pretty much sticks to the same couple of bars on her block. The last time we hung out, she was going on about how there’s ‘absolutely no artistic expression” in the suburbs. But she never comes to any of my gallery shows or wants to go to any museums or like, just go to the park. She’ll say she wants to do stuff when the ‘weather gets nicer’ but it’s pretty much the same regardless of the season.”

Dr. Veronica Mills, a professor of psychology at Columbia College Chicago, cited Remis’ experience as a likely example of “urban-sophisticate delusional disorder.”

“Those with USDD tend to believe that, because they live in an area reputed for culture and excitement, somehow those qualities will transfer to them by virtue of their zip code,” said Mills. “But instead of acknowledging their homebody tendencies, they’ll project on those living in other areas as if being within five miles of a Chili’s is somehow proof of one’s complete lack of stimulation or interest in personal growth. Somehow, it doesn’t dawn on them that merely living in ‘the big city’ doesn’t cancel out hours spent on their couch looking at nu-metal memes.”

Remis, whose most recent romantic encounter consisted of eating Chipotle while her date played his Soundcloud through his iPhone speaker, went on to express her repulsion at what she envisioned as the “unending tedium” of married life.

Review: Offenders “Endless Struggle”

Killeen, Texas natives Offenders were a hardcore outfit that would go on to become a staple of the underground Austin scene through the mid-80s. “Endless Struggle,” the second and last of their full albums, was released in 1985 to as critical of acclaim as a Texan regional punk band could get in the Reagan era, and today we revisit every detail.

Listening to the lyrics of “Endless Struggle” really evoked a distinct type of nostalgia in me, specifically a yearning for the parties that my high school friends and I would throw in a literal quarry in our shitty rural hometown. You know, the ragers where you’re all underage and drunkenly standing on the precipice of a rock ledge where just under the water there is an abandoned Buick that will break your legs if you jump in and land on it. Then there’s like weird sand dunes and shit for people to jump an ATV over? You’re all shotgunning Natty Light? And you keep seeing these really intense images of police cars and your friend Annie yelling at you to run?

Huh, that’s weird. That felt like an actual memory as opposed to like, regular old wistful reminiscing. Anyway, since I couldn’t quite place why “Face Down in the Dirt” sounded so fucking familiar to me, I did a quick YouTube tutorial on how to recall repressed memories. After a few hours of staring into my phone and thinking super hard about how much I didn’t remember anything, it hit me: I had heard this exact track before. The night the cops finally busted us, and…oh, god–

It’s all coming back to me now. This album was playing the night I fell in the quarry. Holy shit, dude. I mean, I must have died, there’s no way I could have survived a fall like that. I remember an antenna from an old Buick slicing through my stomach, there was so much blood and I was stuck underwater. Is this technically a past-life regression, then? Am I fucking dead? Hello?? I said–am I fucking dead??

Sorry, no, I’m good. I forgot about the super-strong mushroom tea I made before sitting down to write this. I’ve either been writing for 25 seconds or several years.

I’ve definitely never heard this album before, but if I have, it has my approval as a cool soundtrack to become a ghost to.

SCORE: 6/6 grams of psilocybin

Dear Black Metal Fans: I’m Not a Satanist, I’m Just a Goat

Dear black metal fans, this may come as a shock to many of you but I am not a Satanist. Despite my appearance and everything you think you know about my kind, I do not represent the satanic. I’m no symbol. I’m just a goat.

I can assure you that not all goats worship Satan. Sure, we may be godless, hard-headed, and phallic, but our similarities to your genre are purely a matter of coincidence.

I take particular exception to the use of our species in the names of your bands. Do you think it’s clever to name your band’s things like “Goat Fetus” or “Goat Orgy” or “Goatfisted?” It’s a pathetic, childish attempt to shock. Anyone can just string vulgar words together and add the word “goat.” How would you feel if a bunch of goats started bleating together and called themselves “The Virgins Who Wished they Were Scandinavian?”

I live at the goat enclosure of a petting zoo, which seems to have become quite a magnet to the local black metal scene. And to be fair, some of you are actually quite sweet and have good taste in pellets. That said, it can be a little patronizing when one of you tickles my beard and says, “Who’s a representation of satanism? You are! Yes you are! Yes, you are!”

Someday I hope we can live in a world where someone’s appearance doesn’t dictate how they are perceived by the outside world. And so should you, black metal fans. Every single time you walk away from my enclosure, the next group of patrons makes so much fun of your dumb clothes.

Band Agrees to Practice Song Drummer Wrote but Say It Counts as Both His Birthday and Christmas Present

ELLENSBURG, Wash. — Members of local skiffle-punk revival band Rat Boy and The Cheese Police agreed to practice a song written by the group’s drummer, but insisted that he won’t be getting any other gifts for the rest of the year now, stingy sources confirmed.

“We really try not to spoil Frankie [Sepsel], but the little guy was just so excited to have us practice that song, it would have been heartless of us to say no,” explained guitarist Davis Pless while writing songs that the band was planning to actually record. “We made sure he knew that if we did this that it meant he wouldn’t be getting any more presents, that includes his birthday, Christmas, and National Drummer Day. We’re pretty sure he understood, but you know how drummers are. The last time we tried this he got all huffy when we reminded him he wouldn’t be getting new cymbals since we let him mindlessly play fills during our onstage banter one time.”

Sepsel was enthusiastic about the band’s decision to practice his song.

“This really is fantastic. I don’t often write for Cheese Police, but when I do, boy, it’s gonna knock your socks off!” exclaimed Sepsel, apparently under the impression that he was in some way contributing to the group’s creative process. “I don’t mean to toot my own horn too much here, but based on the pensive silence I got from the rest of the band after I asked them what they thought of my song, I’ve got a feeling this might be our first single on the new record.”

Producer Terry Grudger, who has recently been working with the band on their forthcoming record, gave his thoughts on Sepsel’s attempted track.

“Yeah, I didn’t even bother to hit record when they agreed to play that fucking song. I’m not going to waste the digital bandwidth even if it’s easy to delete,” remarked Grudger. “As far as drummer songs go it wasn’t the worst I’ve ever heard. That’s about the most glowing praise that thing’s ever gonna get. I’ve had to listen to a lot of drummer songs and, while it’s nice the rest of the band humors them, it’s really just cruel to get their hopes up like that.”

At press time, Rat Boy and The Cheese Police were considering breaking up after Sepsel offered to “punch up” some of the band’s lyrics.

Photo by Jana Miller.

How To Hide From Your Friends That the Haunted Dummy From the Goosebumps Books Still Terrifies You in Your 30s

So you’re a thirtysomething with your shit somewhat together. You’ve grown up at least to the point of running your own life and you’re finally feeling comfortable considering yourself a “grown-up.” But you have a deep, dark secret. You’re still absolutely, pants-shittingly terrified of Slappy, the dummy from the Goosebumps books.

Being scared shitless of a children’s book well into your thirties is humiliating and you certainly want to hide this fact from your friends. But you’re right to be fearful! That cursed ventriloquist dummy shows up straight from hell and ruins lives. He turns your family and friends against you and makes them believe you’ve turned into an evil piece of shit, just like him. Plus, every time you try to get rid of him, he finds you again! Having Slappy in your life is a lot like dating a sociopath, except worse because ventriloquism is involved.

Besides constantly checking over your shoulder for an evil dummy, you also need to ensure none of your very cool and chill friends witness a Slappy-related meltdown. Here are some places to avoid if you want to hide this embarrassing, but totally reasonable, fear:

Attics
Besides being creepy as fuck and full of fiberglass and spiders, attics are rife territory for dummy encounters. The lore behind “Night of the Living Dummy II” tells us that Slappy and his family hang out in attics. All of these facts disqualify attics from places you will hang out.

Old-timey antique shops run by a sinister older character
Old-timey shops are a big nope in general. The owner is always suspect and will subtly drop hints to purchase only the most haunted artifacts. Old-timey antique shops are also cramped so if a dummy comes to life, running out of there is going to be almost as dangerous.

Puppet shows
It goes without saying that dummies are a kind of puppet so it’s important to avoid puppet shows and any other puppet-related gatherings in general.

Open mic nights
There’s always one bad ventriloquist and their dummy will be haunted. Also, don’t go to these with your friends. Never a good time.

The 1920s Vaudeville scene and its enthusiasts
Enthusiasts of Vaudeville should be avoided entirely as there is always a dummy lurking in someone’s old leather suitcase. It can and will pop out at any moment. There are many signs that vaudeville enthusiasts could be skulking around close by such as Charleston dancing, Great Gadsby-themed parties, flapper attire, old theaters with heavy velvet drapes for curtains, Charlie Chaplin costumes, and anyone walking around with a comically large curved cane.

Socially Anxious Man Single and Ready to Mingle with Party Host’s Dog

STONY BROOK, N.Y. — Lifelong socially anxious man Max Trembolt revealed to a group of friends that he was single and ready to mingle with the party host’s dog tonight, confirmed sources who strangely enough had the same exact gameplan.

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea and this one just so happens to love belly rubs,” said Trembolt before retreating to the bathroom for 20 minutes to take an additional anxiety-alleviating breather. “My girlfriend and I recently broke up, so I got dressed to the nines and am ready to play the field here with Rocco McFluffypaws specifically. All that said, this party is already going way better than the one last week when the host’s only pet was a tarantula. Even though I’ve dealt with social anxiety for years, there’s only so long you can instinctively avoid eye contact with all eight eyes of an exotic spider before having to try to talk to someone. Thank God for people with normal pets.”

Lane Dracon hosted the party seemingly knowing that their dog would be the life of it.

“You know what they say. Dogs are a man’s best emotional support animal,” said Dracon before instituting a stern 15-minute maximum petting limit so everyone can get a turn. “I’ve seen as many as six different people simultaneously petting my dog all while actively avoiding conversation with each other and staring at the ground. I swear, more people interact with my dog at parties than they do me. That must be why guests frequently say goodbye to my dog and forget me altogether. Like, hello! My dog didn’t pay for all these microwavable jalapeno poppers and Schlitz beer. The credit card I stole from my parents did.”

Experts noted how parties are a giant struggle for those who suffer from social anxiety.

“Social phobia affects millions of people and it’s at its peak at get-togethers,” said psychologist Lucy Gray. “Thankfully, people are more sympathetic to it than ever before. We’re actually seeing more people adopt dogs for the sole purpose of relieving their party guests’ anxieties. Soon enough, every gathering is going to require at least one dog per partygoer to make sure everyone is comfortable. Until then, no one should expect to have a good time at your party.”

At press time, Trembolt suddenly noticed the party host’s cat, which opened up a whole new world of anxiety-relieving possibilities for the evening.

I Would Go to My Kid’s Baseball Game if It Didn’t Fall on the Same Day as This Rare Beer Release

As parents, we have to make sacrifices all the time. Any parent will tell you this. You can miss your kid’s first steps because you’re away for work. You may have to miss your kid’s middle school graduation because your mother had a health emergency. And sometimes you have to miss your kid’s baseball game because Barrel Alchemy Artisanal Brew Works is releasing Double-Barrel Aged Fudge Brownie Batter Supreme Stout Aged on Coconut and Cayenne Pepper, and Triple Dry Hopped Dank Forge with Galaxy and Centennial Double IPA on the same day.

Look, it’s not that I don’t want to go to the game. I love watching my son disappoint me. I’m devastated to have to miss it. But what I really, really can’t miss is this release. I told my wife to record the game so we can all watch it together at home tonight. I’ll get to relive this special moment with my son all while sipping on one of these white whales. Everybody wins.

I’m sure you’re probably thinking about how selfish I am but this actually benefits my son. Guys on my beer trade forums are already offering me $250 a bottle for the Fudge Brownie Batter Supreme so if I get the full allotment of 5 bottles, which I should since I got in line at 6 AM, I can sell two of them and get my son a new bat and glove. Or I can save it for the release of an even rarer beer.

It’s still early in the season and there will be plenty of other games. You can bet I’m planning on going to all of them, even the away ones. You don’t see all of the other dads going to the away games! I just can’t go to the one on the tenth, because Hop Rave is releasing Exxxtra Sour Smoothie: Green Apple Blue Raspberry and the brewery already announced there’s a one case limit per person.

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