NEW YORK — New York Times headliner editor Percy Howard patted himself on the back today after writing a headline describing Israeli soldiers opening fire on unarmed Palestinians seeking food aid that was so vague that it completely lost all meaning, sources close to the man confirmed.
“It’s my job to stay fair and balanced when describing contentious situations like these—who’s to say that the bullets that spontaneously sprang forth from their guns actually caused these individuals to stop breathing? A lot can happen to a bullet between when it’s released and when an individual receives it,” said Howard. “Plus ‘massacre’ and ‘war crimes’ are such ugly words, personally I prefer to describe these unfortunate mishaps with something a little more subtle like ‘spontaneous memorial site’ and ‘conflict conduct disputes.’”
Readers of the incredibly vague news coverage were left unable to decipher what the hell actually happened during the incident.
“What does ‘several adult-adjacent Palestinians were introduced to the sounds of gunfire during the scuttlebutt’ even mean? I think someone might have shot at a taco truck in Gaza but I really can’t tell,” said longtime New York Times reader Brett Palmer. “I heard something on TikTok about how 100 Palestinians were killed and 700 were wounded by Israeli forces earlier today while trying to get food aid, but social media users are so biased. This must be a totally different incident, because this story didn’t talk about any of that.”
Meanwhile the Israeli Defense Forces took to X (formerly Twitter) to condemn the harsh language the New York Times editor used to describe the incident.
“They should be ashamed of themselves for spreading this blatant propaganda and using targeted rhetoric like ‘spirited mishap.’ Those bags of flour were clearly harboring a Hamas command center, in four weeks we will show you the proof,” said a statement released by the Israeli Defense Forces account. “Besides, during the chaos these aggressor’s bodies stole thousands of rounds of ammunition from our brave soldiers, but they didn’t report that part did they? We demand an apology and a correction to the story.”
The headline followed the paper’s coverage of Aaron Bushnell’s self-immolation protest of the genocide, which read ‘US Citizen Raises Awareness for Cause With Fiery Speech on Embassy Steps.”
Eddie is, unfortunately, a rotting British corpse, so that’s already not in his favor. What is in his favor is how he’s pretty much been around for every world event, and while he’s probably responsible for stealing all those artifacts for the British Museum, he’s got some decent stories to tell considering the sheer amount of shit he’s done. Plus who needs a Raid Shadow Legends sponsor when you’ve got a shitty mobile game of your own.
Deathbat is lower on this list, because, unlike some of the edgelords that come after him, he seems pretty harmless. Sure he may look at those skeletons holding guns JPEG and unironically think it’s cool, but 14-year-olds need a podcast too. His podcast would probably be interviewing people about how they tricked out their Jeeps or dune buggies, but it would be well-intentioned. We all need a little cringe sometimes.
Snaggletooth is the type of dude to find something new to be pissed off about every week. His unhinged rants would be funny at first, and sometimes his anger would be justified, but after the first few episodes, his anger would get old really fast. You know you would tune in for his Lemmy stories.
When you look at Not Man you probably think he’s the stereotypical Italian deli worker who somehow recites an entire Scrabble game of random words while you try to order a sandwich and still would make the time to call your girlfriend a “broad.” The guy would be entertaining, but probably give really bad sports betting advice and would simultaneously flaunt his riches, while begging for donations on Patreon.
Chaly and Deathbat look very similar, and Chaly hates that. Chaly has some more edge, and will constantly point out the fact Deathbat is a bad ripoff of everything he does. Chaly is definitely the type of mascot who makes sure everyone who wears a Thrasher shirt is a “real” skater, even though he only started caring about skating after the Tony Hawk Pro Skater games.
It’s hard not to feel bad for the man with the Iron Mask, considering he’s in a constant state of fear and clearly a ward of the state. If you like avante-garde noise podcasts of a man screaming by himself then check it out, Bill Burr sort of made a career of it, but Man with the Iron Mask doesn’t have the same comedy chops.
It’s not fully clear whether or not Vic can actually talk. So if Vic can’t talk, why is he so low on the list? Well, as some members of the band he represents should learn, sometimes saying nothing is better than saying something stupid. Considering that Vic is often portrayed as a politician, I think the fact that he can’t talk is probably for the best. Vic may be a bad podcast host, but it’s for the best. Also, the constant chain rattling would be tough to listen to with headphones in.
Again, it’s unclear if this guy can talk, to be honest though, if he could, despite being a mascot for Danzig he’d probably talk about new-age paganism, but in a “church burn”-y kinda way. With that considered, it’s probably best if he doesn’t do much talking, there are already enough edgy black metal fans on the internet.
Violent Mind’s name alone makes it safe to assume he unironically relates to the Joker, so that’s an instantly bad sign. Aside from that, he looks like the type of enemy you encounter in a video game about 5 hours in, so his commentary probably wouldn’t be super deep. He’s got a violent mind, that’s about it. Which means it’s probably another MMA podcast.
The Guy from Disturbed is just so forgettable. Apparently, he’s supposed to be some anti-hero, savior of humanity, so let’s lump him in with the other generic edgelords and call it a day. He doesn’t even have a name, so the algorithm certainly isn’t going to help him much. If you are looking for a podcast about literature, race in America, gender identity, or even current events, then this is not for you. This podcast will only serve to make you more stupid.
What makes Roy hard to get a read on, is he’s just, standing there for every single album cover. If he’s feeling frisky he might offer you his hand, but still, not much. Roy is the type of dude who takes himself way too seriously. He’d sit there and spout the type of philosophy you’d typically see from middle-aged men on shrooms at a Tool show, except stone-cold sober.
Murray would be obnoxious simply because he’d constantly be trying to overcompensate for the fact that his name is Murray. I also don’t think it’s a stretch to say Murray looks like a fascist, so his popularity would solely be based on how much bigotry he could cram into 45 minutes.
There’s no way you call yourself “jesterhead” and aren’t trying to get into comedy so it’s safe to say Jesterhead’s podcast would be under the “comedy” category, but you would listen to it and just feel bad. His bits would consist of saying slurs and then complaining about being canceled, but nobody is actually listening or cares. He would keep getting more bitter that he doesn’t get more downloads until eventually he just talks about how many guns he bought at an out of state gun fair over the weekend.
Yeah, just a Nazi. While the band itself is anti-war, it’s hard to believe Knarrenheiz is. The dude enjoys war a little too much and is basically anti-Captain America because clearly there’s nothing fascist about America. Despite how well Ye did on Joe Rogan’s show that one time, Nazis on podcasts is still a bad idea.
While maybe not as openly fascist as some of his peers, Knucklehead is definitely the type of ex-solider to cherish his memories of bombing a hospital. He’s Lockheed Martin’s biggest fan and could somehow connect every decision he’s made back to 9/11. He’d spend his podcast making up a bunch of stories about being a ruthless war hero while giving Detroit Urban Survival Training-level of bad martial arts advice. Safe to say that’s the bottom circle of hell.
The Police’s fourth full-length studio album was their biggest departure at the time and, frankly, of all time, nixing a formerly sneering and salivating punk rock attitude and pick it up, pick it up reggae and ska upstrokes in favor of saccharine and all things sweet, which isn’t a bad thing per se, but one album had to be listed last here, so if you’re not happy about this, keep living your sad life in darkness. Too much information? Who cares because as we all know, every little thing you do ISN’T magic. Still, like pretty much everything that The Police put out, “Ghost in the Machine” was more than critically acclaimed by inferior publications and the like, and said effort sold enough units to showcase that fans didn’t care what genre they were performing as long as they connected with the tunes. Also, the cover looks like what displays on the Predator’s wrist in “Predator” right before he blows himself up, and that movie rules.
You’d be hard pressed to find a better opening track to a 1970s or any other decade LP than “Message in a Bottle,” but such gems are what casual and hardcore fans expect from The Police, and the band’s sophomore full-length was the polar opposite of a slump by any stretch of a yogi’s imagination. The album’s actual title loosely translates in French to “White Reggae” and said moniker is more than accurate, and trumps known racist Eric Clapton’s cover of Bob Marley’s “I Shot The Sheriff” by way more than cocaine-laced bullets. The ranking of this one and the next to be mentioned could change on the day based purely on the songs.
“Next to You,” the first song on the band’s debut album “Outlandos d’Amour” started the band’s career with a bang and then some. Three-tenths of this album are literally three hit songs known as “Roxanne,” “Can’t Stand Losing You,” and “So Lonely,” so beat that, The Knack? Self produced albums sometimes get a flurry of sneers, but this one was a far cry from a curl of one’s lip and provided a sonic blueprint for others to be DIY till they die or sign a major label deal with A&M. Thank goodness to the world that this album’s original title could have been “Police Brutality” as said dad joke pun would have murdered anyone who enjoyed “Roxanne,” and the band would have had to stand losing you.
One of the lesser spoken of or journaled about records from The Police is without question or hesitation a no “skip it” effort front to back, and demands your attention far more than a pork pie suit ever could. Thus, it wins the silver medal here, but as you all know, second place is the first loser, so we are in effect, driving the band and Zenyatta aficionados to wet and unrelenting tears. If you’re curious, and we know that you are, both “zenyatta” and “mondatta” are made up words, and we will de do do do, de da da da till the sun comes out or are notified to quit by our legal guardian Lawrence as a result. This record is the band’s last non-English album title, and also their final Warped Tour-esque sans screamo or guyliner release. Bombs away.
The Police’s fifth and final album, is quite a freaking swan song, to say the least, complete with actual song sequels and a literal murder by numbers. In fact, one might say that it formed a perfect final LP blueprint for all bands moving forward with style, grace, walking, and breaths. Speaking of something that should definitely be regal, “King of Pain,” the album’s third of five singles, is their best and most underrated radio track, and likely the band’s highest quality song from a songwriting component altogether. We know that “Weird Al” Yankovic likely introduced you to this track in the form of suede, and honestly, that doesn’t make us mad; Dr. Demento is “mad.” In closing, sad is sometimes worse than mad, and we will take every breath for the rest of our lives with an unlikely and frowning yearning for album #6. Thank you, mother(s).