Dave From Dave’s Killer Bread Inducted Into Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Posted on by Ben Sobieck

CLEVELAND — Dave Dahl, best known as the face and founder of Dave’s Killer Bread, was inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame (RRHOF) during a ceremony last weekend, sources confirmed. 

“When I was getting my life together in prison, I promised myself I’d get into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame one day. I didn’t have a music career, a band, industry contacts, a microphone, or even a roll of gaffer tape to forget in the van. All I had was a vision: putting a cartoon of myself playing guitar on the bags of as many loaves of bread as possible,” Dahl said. “People always ask what chord I’m playing on that cartoon guitar. It looks like a C, but the pinky across the frets throws them off. All that matters is that I sold Dave’s Killer Bread for almost $300 million and am now recognized as one of the most important musicians in bread mascot history.”

Dahl’s qualifications were never in doubt.

“By leveraging something as simple as a bread bag, millions of people have seen Dave play guitar live. His iconic image sports the correct hair-to-mustache ratio, too,” said Mo Koybelle, chair of the RRHOF Nomination Committee. “Frankly, even without the guitar, he’s more rock ‘n’ roll than some of our other inductees. He spent 15 years in the pen for drugs, armed robbery, burglary, and assault. Then he rammed a police car with his Cadillac and sent three deputies to the hospital. I guess he ran out of knuckles to break, because he got hit with that punk PMA and hired ex-cons at his bakery as a ‘fuck you’ to the system. He used attention from the press to talk about mental health and recidivism. It’s said Jesus went looking for this motherfucker just to see if he was real, not the other way around. You can’t say that about drips like attorney Allen Grubman or the solo career of Ringo Starr.”

Experts saw Dahl’s induction as a sign of the times.

“In the AI era, the ‘vibe’ of creating music is more important than actually creating music. It’s natural that the social anesthetic of ‘bread and circuses’ would evolve into ‘bread and bread,’” said Dawn Dischope, music historian. “The next generation of Hall hopefuls should focus less on making music and more on releasing biodegradable Keurig pods, bacon-scented condoms, and branded urinal cakes. Leave the art to the machines.”

As of press time, Joe Camel, the famous jazz pianist, was added to the list of next year’s nominees.

How to Get That Cute Girl at the Show to Notice You by Taking off Your Shirt and Starting Fights in the Moshpit

Posted on by Steve Packosky

So you just got to the Whitechapel concert, and you noticed there’s a cute girl standing by herself off to the side. She looks to be about your age and definitely seems like your type. You mentioned her to your friend, and he suggested maybe complimenting her Bodysnatcher shirt as a way to strike up a conversation and get to know her as a person.

Well, your friend is a pussy, and doesn’t know the first thing about women. 

Nah, we’re going to teach you how to handle this situation the right way. It’s obvious by her choice in music that this girl is turned on by masculinity, so what better way to demonstrate yourself as an exemplar of this than by taking off your shirt? I mean, you were clearly planning on doing that at some point, anyway, so what’s the harm in making sure it’s during the opening band and in her line of vision? It kind of sucks that she won’t get to catch a glimpse of the sick Falling in Reverse logo with the tour dates on the back, but whatever. She’s gonna go fucking apeshit over your pecs, so no biggie.

There you go, and make sure that crucifix tattoo you just got on your left bicep is fully visible. Fuck yeah, she probably can’t get enough of it. Only problem is, it’s kind of chilly in here. You’ve usually been hitting the pit for a while by the time you’ve partially disrobed, so you’d better get in there now to warm up. Just make sure she can see you fucking destroying everyone who thinks they can step to you. Don’t forget to boorishly walk through everyone in your path as you make your way to the pit, too. Saying “excuse me” or gently putting your hand on people’s shoulders as you brush past is for fucking soyboys, and she knows it.

Now’s the final, most crucial step of the process. You need to start fights with fucking everybody. We know this is a moshpi,t and people are supposed to run into you, but it’s time to start taking it like a personal insult. Matching other people’s good-natured slams with inordinate force will show her that you’re the fucking alpha in this venue. You keep this up, and she’ll be all over you while you’re picking strangers’ teeth out of your fist in no time. So what are you waiting for? This concert’s not going to ruin itself!

Undercover Cop Only One on Time to DIY Show

Posted on by Carson Kile

SAN DIEGO — A local venue uncovered a sting operation within their premises when a plainsclothes police officer blew his cover by being the only one on time to last night’s DIY punk show, sources confirmed. 

“I have no idea what any of them are talking about,” said Blake Christophen, as he pulled down his Blue Lives Matter Punisher gaiter and removed his orange Oakley sunglasses. “I’m just a regular citizen, who came here to enjoy some rock and roll that was supposed to start at exactly 18:00 Pacific Time. I’m not here to bust anybody’s balls. I can help set up if they need it. I have some zip ties in the back of my car we could use.”

Mary Tang, longtime influential member of the local DIY scene, was not falling for the obvious charade.

“He’s clearly a cop,” proclaimed Tang, as she arrived on the scene 45 minutes late. “He’s the only one here that doesn’t work in the warehouse across the street. He’s also the only one here that’s dressed like John Cena. But the most damning evidence is that he’s the only one that showed up on time. Everybody knows that if a show is starting at 6:00 PM, that means you’re showing up at 8:30 to help set up. Don’t show up five minutes early and double park your Ford Explorer in the disability parking. At least try to be a little inconspicuous.”

Local chief of police Barney Quinn expressed his disappointment in the failed operation.

“This is sloppy police work,” commented Quinn while stacking donuts on his gun and eating them like a kabob. “Even I know you don’t show up on time to these shows if you want to avoid suspicion. I am very distraught over the situation, we’ve been working this angle for years and we were this close to busting an underground Antifa operation. I won’t say too much, but we had very good reason to suspect that Nancy Pelosi was performing transgender surgeries on MS-13 members in that venue. Now we’ll have to rebuild trust by sending officers into the vegan punk scene, which is even more of a woke nightmare than this. Godspeed to whichever poor sucker they assign that operation to.”

At press time, an undercover police officer working as a non-binary barista was tapped to take over the case. 

Libertarian Recommends Children Do DoorDash to Settle Lunch Debt

Posted on by S.L. Neechski

DENVER — Libertarian Rich Fayleson recently advocated on the podcast Debate Me Bro that children who have school-lunch debt should consider doing DoorDash in order to settle it, confirmed sources. 

“Look, I didn’t need any government handouts when I was a kid going to school,” said Fayleson, adjusting his bowtie while pretending to read “Atlas Shrugged.” “And that’s because my wealthy parents solved literally all my problems by throwing money at them, like it should be. That’s just market forces at work. Same goes for school-lunch debt—that’s just the market making a correction for lazy children who are choosing to be in debt by not strapping on their Heelys and doing DoorDash for a couple hours a day.”

Braeden Taylor, a seventh grader at Hamilton Middle School, commented on the absurdity of children being expected to pay off lunch debt themselves.

“Bruh, it just seems, like, totally sus for a 12-year-old to have to be an adult,” said Taylor, rolling his eyes. “Only a delulu idiot addicted to brain rot would think that a kid in middle school should incur debt just from, like, needing to eat. A person who thinks working off lunch debt is fair or reasonable is probably just a resentful douche who’s had literally everything handed to them. Indeed, lunch debt is just Fanum taxing taken to its logical conclusion.”

Dr. Kyle Reno, a professor of political science at the University of Colorado Denver, discussed the irony of Libertarian thinking.

“Libertarianism is a childish and selfish ideology, and the crushing irony is that it leads to childish and self-centered thinking,” explained Reno, sighing heavily. “Libertarians are a bunch of petulant, basement-dwelling egomaniacs who are certain they’d be feudal lords of their Rand-ian fantasy worlds. In reality, their arguments for minimalist government exist purely to launder a pathologically selfish worldview that even Gordon Gecko would scoff at. Is it any wonder most libertarians are raised by elitist assholes who think the less-well-off are right where they belong?”

At press time, Fayleson offered more advice for children trying to work off lunch debt: “If DoorDash doesn’t pan out, kids, there’s always the mines.”

Opinion: Seems like Nobody Cares About Real Human Connection Anymore, and by Real Human Connection I Mean Having Sex with Me

Posted on by Malia Simon

It’s time to address the fact that today’s society is suffering from one of the greatest epidemics of this millenium: an epidemic of connection. These days, it’s starting to seem like there is an undeniable shortage of genuine human connection, and by genuine human connection, I mean people willing to have sex with me specifically. 

When did this happen? It seems like just yesterday, when people left the house, it meant they actually wanted to talk to each other. But nowadays, no one wants to let you sidle up to a coffee shop with an ambiguous stack of “work” anymore and scoot closer to the twenty-three-year-olds and ask them banal questions about their drink orders and think they won’t notice you’re trying really hard to have sex with them. What gives? 

Look, maybe I’m just a product of my generation. For whatever reason, I can’t get behind the fake Instagrams and the selfies. Sue me. I want to get deep. I want to talk about real things, like free will and mortality and whether or not that convinced you to have sex with me. 

Please let me have sex with you. Pleeeease. PLEASE. Okay. I’ll bite. What do I need to do? Be “twenty-five?” Not be palpably teeming with the steady accumulation of years of sexual and romantic frustration, nurtured by a high-functioning addiction to pornography developed in my teens and never really recovered from? 

On second thought, I think I’m gonna just keep vaguely blaming this on COVID-19. 
Wake up, people. Put down your cell phones and your “memes” and get outside. There is a whole world out there waiting to be seen. People waiting to be seen. And touched. And spit and pissed on. And stepped on in heels. Praise God, Amen. So who’s with me now? The modern era has robbed enough from us. Let’s not let it also take the spirit of wanting to touch people who are me.

Noam Chomsky Insists No Ethical Consumption Under Capitalism Excludes McDonald’s BOGO Breakfast Deal

Posted on by Brett Olsen

TUCSON, Ariz. — Professor and vocal critic of capitalism Noam Chomsky stunned his lecture hall after granting an ideological exception for McDonald’s buy one, get one free breakfast promotion, confirmed sources.

“‘All goods consumed under capitalism are produced under conditions of exploitation’ is something I would have earnestly said before biting into my second sausage, egg, and cheese McGriddle,” Chomsky revealed. “To be profitable, companies pay workers less than the value that their labor produces which begs the question: how much could a McGriddle possibly be worth if half of them are free? It turns out the answer doesn’t matter—who could put a price tag on happiness, on feeling patriotic for the first time at the tender age of 96? Don’t even get me started on their crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside hash browns.”

University of Arizona student and right-wing podcaster Mitch Luciano welcomed Chomsky’s sudden pivot.

 “I’ve been paying tuition fees for three semesters just to protest outside Chomsky’s class,” an impassioned Luciano began. “It’s about time he finally saw the light, that unmistakable sheen from the golden arches. I actually believed that Chomsky was unsalvageable, but I underestimated the transformative effects of tasting all the opportunities America has to offer. The sausage, egg, and cheese McGriddle is not fucking around. I’m starting to realize that ‘the other side’ may have a road to redemption yet. We’re all one giant, greasy dinner at Golden Corral away from securing Trump’s third term, and I’m starving.”

McDonald’s CEO Chris Kempczinski couldn’t agree more with Chomsky’s comments.

“We’ve been cheekily noting for years that the public would ‘ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-be-loving-it,’ but we’re now just realizing our food could actually be the sole deciding factor in bridging this horrid divisiveness that’s been plaguing modern America,” an elated Kempczinski beamed. “With respects to whatever hesitations Mr. Chomsky may still be harboring, we’re ecstatic to unveil our new line of collectable ‘Noam Chomsky’ Happy Meal toys. We expect these trinkets to do nothing but appreciate in value—something that would finally give the working class a real chance at retirement.”

At press time, Chomsky was drafting a tweet on how linguistics is nothing but a scam after also discovering an onion ring at the bottom of his bag.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, and I’m Not an Idiot, I Know It Was My Dad in a Santa Suit, but Have You Ever Seen Your Parents Do Santa Roleplay?!

Posted on by Dan Rice

I can tell by your reaction that you seem to think this is cute. It’s not fucking cute. I don’t think you’re seeing the reality of this situation at all. Let me lay it out for you. 

When I heard commotion downstairs on Christmas Eve, I decided to check it out, thinking it was a burglar or something. I brought my baseball bat with me because I’ve always wanted to beat up a bad guy with a baseball bat. Imagine my surprise to find my Dad in a Santa suit, loading presents under the tree. Yeah, I thought it was kinda cute at first too, even though I’m way too old for this kind of gimmick. 

Then it hit me — wait a second, he doesn’t know I’m watching him from the top of the stairs right now, why did he bother with the suit? That’s when Mom came in. Mom, in her red, white fur-trimmed nighty and matching fishnet stockings. Yeah. Not so cute now, huh fucker? 

They got into it right away. “Oh, Santa! Have I been good this year? Tehe!” “Why, as a matter of fact, young lady, Santa thinks you’ve been very, very naughty, hohoho!” “Oh, pwease mistur Santa Cwaus, there must be something I can do to get a pweasent!” “Well, why don’t you start by giving Ole’ St. Nick a little sugar?” 

Now, when I say they started kissing, you’re probably thinking some cute, Norman Rockwell/Hallmark little Christmas smooch, yeah? Wrong. This was the most hardcore make-out I have ever seen! They were on each other like animals! Then, I went to go back to my room, where it’s quiet, and safe, and the stair creaked! I know they heard it because the disgusting sucking sounds stopped immediately. They were worried I was getting up and I was worried about them knowing what I saw so the three of us just sat there in silence a minute. After a while they went back at it and I knew there was no escape, so I just closed my eyes, covered my ears and tried to be somewhere else. 

It was not their first time doing this, that much I’m sure of. They definitely do this kind of thing a lot, and I know that forever now, and I’m 12. Long road ahead. Long, therapy-filled road. 

Christmas morning was has been the most traumatizing event of my entire life, and while I’m still young, I really don’t see anything topping this. Maybe if I hadn’t seen what I saw I would be too distracted by presents to notice their non-stop innuendo, but I did see, and they were fucking rellentless. “I can’t believe big ole’ Santa fit all the way up my chimney last night!” “Saint Nick sure got his milk and cookies this year!” “You weren’t the only one to get a candy cane in their stocking last night son!” Those are just the ones I’m not actively blocking out! These people are fucking disgusting.    

Welp, that’s a wrap on Christmas forever as far as I’m conserned. Used to be my favorite holiday, now I hate it. I guess I’ll just be a Halloween guy now, I still love Halloween. Every year my Mom dresses up like Velma and my Dad dresses up like Scooby and… Oh. Oh God. Oh God no. 

Geese Fan’s Parents Get Her Goose Tickets for Christmas

Posted on by Tim Graham

NEEDHAM, Mass. — A self-avowed super fan of the rock band Geese was surprised by her well-meaning parents with a pair of tickets to see the jam band Goose, sources confirm.

“My parents tried their best and I appreciate that,” said Jane Salerno. “But it was hard to hide my disappointment when I opened the envelope to find tickets to see Goose—I hate jam bands. I just smiled really big and said, ‘Gee, thanks!’ When my mom texted me last month asking for the name of the band I’m really into, I thought she was going to get me a tee shirt or cassette tape like they did last year. Do they know me at all? A jam band? Why not just get me a pair of devil sticks, a hacky sack, and some nag champa while they’re at it?”

Salerno’s parents are still under the impression their gift was a hit.

“Jane was ecstatic on Christmas morning. She’s been talking about wanting to see The Goose for months. Apparently they’re a really big deal—the singer played piano at Carnegie Hall!” said Mrs. Salerno while flattening crumpled wrapping paper to reuse next year. “We always do our best to figure out what our kids really want for Christmas. You should’ve seen our son Brian’s face when he opened his gift. He’s a big fan of those comic book movies, so this year we got him one called ‘Morbius’ on DVD.”

Music critic Shep Quinn says that bands with similar names have been causing confusion for nearly as long as rock and roll has existed.

“Early on, there were The Who and The Guess Who—a lot of boomers can’t wrap their heads around that one to this day,” said Quinn. “Then there’s Bryan Adams and Ryan Adams, and people still get screwed up over Rocket from the Tombs and Rocket from the Crypt. Even a music writer like myself can get mixed up. I once brought a Velvet Underground LP to get signed at a John Cale show, only to discover J.J. Cale was performing that night. He said it happens all the time and gladly did a competent forgery of John Cale’s signature on my record.”

At press time, Ms. Salerno had reportedly taken a large dose of mushrooms and listened to several Goose live shows back to back, but was unsuccessful in her effort to force herself to like the band.

Opinion: If My Coworkers Didn’t Want a Bag of Loose Pills as a White Elephant Gift, They Should Have Put X’s on Their Hands

Posted on by Jack Humphrey

Deb From HR’s Office, Pennsylvania — The White Elephant Gift exchange is a cornerstone of the office ecosystem. It allows an employee to embody the spirit of giving during the holiday season by sharing a little piece of themselves with a coworker. Unfortunately, when that little piece of yourself is a ziploc baggie with 14 Adderall, 9 Vicodin, 5 Xanax, 2 Fish Oil Tablets, and 3 of what I am pretty sure is generic Viagra, your apparently straight edge coworkers will mostly respond by yelling.

While much of the blame for my poorly received contribution to the gift exchange was attributed to me, I can’t help but feel like my coworkers could have warned me of their straight edge lifestyle. Simply putting X’s on their hands would let me know that they do not partake in alcohol and drugs. Instead, I’m supposed to make Sherlock Holmes levels of deductions, like noticing I’m the only one drinking at this 10:30 am Christmas party or remembering the company’s strict anti-drug policy. All things considered, I can’t shake the feeling that I was set up to fail by my coworkers. 

My attempts to remedy the situation also fell on deaf ears. I offered to take my bag of assorted drugs back, put my pants back on, and leave the party to go home for the rest of the day. Instead of the kindness and understanding that most people strive for during the holidays, I was met with “take his keys” and “do not let him drive home.” I then spent the rest of the party locked in the conference room, with nothing to do except think about how everything would have gone differently if my coworkers had just warned me of their lifestyle preferences.

I know you’re probably busy with your own holiday bullshit, but after the new year, I think it would be wise to blast out a memo reminding all straight edge employees to wear X’s on their hands so that I know who not to offer drugs to, or really try to hang out with at all. And hey, fair is fair! I would be more than happy to write “Drugs yes” on my hand if you feel that’s the more diplomatic approach. 

Also, my key card stopped working, and the security guard refuses to make eye contact with me, please resolve ASAP. 

Opinion: It’s Time To Put the “Christ” Back in “Not Giving Money to Homeless People”

Posted on by James Knapp

This holiday used to mean something in this country. It meant the joy on your children’s faces when they woke up to the Christmas present banquet. It meant gathering around the chestnut fire with your beloved family members to share in a merry eggnog shot. And it meant remembering that even on the darkest, coldest days of our year, it’s important to be kind and loving to all of God’s children.

Unless it’s one of those disgusting street goblins who keep bothering me outside of the good Panera. It’s the good Panera because you’re not there, you knobby-toothed disgraces!

I don’t mean to sound insensitive. I have full respect for the monetarily unempowered. But there are only three higher powers I respect in this world – the father, the son, and the… holy shit is the gross-looking marine veteran on crutches looking directly at me! Roll the windows up. Roll the windows up!

Anyway, back to Jesus. The Christ child is an important influence in both my life and my unwilling family’s life. But if he were alive today, he never would have approved of all of this rampant “wokeness” and “general acceptance of all people regardless of background or situation.

Look, if Christ wanted us to be “tolerant” like those Socialists in the unbiased press like to say, then he would have written it down — likely in some large book that we all have access to in literally every motel room.

But this season is supposed to be about being with people. Particularly, people whom I don’t need to throw a can of exploding wet wipes at before running away. And Jesus, he would have understood that. 

Sure, he was the man who overturned the moneylenders’ tables. He created a feast from famine by sharing fish and bread. He never even owned a proper pair of shoes, which must have been murder on his arch support.

But in my heart or hearts, built by the the parts of the bible I like and Tucker Carlson, I just know that giving that clearly anemic baby and her mother the finger rather than the $400 in cash I have on me is exactly what our father, son and… holy shit I was so distracted giving them the finger I crashed into a telephone pole. But at least it was a Christmas telephone pole! Like Our Lord Christ intended.