WASHINGTON — Rep. George Santos continued to assert his innocence after being charged with wire fraud and conspiracy and announced he added activist Rachel Dolezal and businessman Martin Shkreli to his legal team, sources confirmed.
“I was elected to serve the people of New York and I intend to finish out my term and run for reelection once I’m proven innocent of all charges,” said Rep. Santos while installing a card skimmer on a gas station pump. “I’m working closely with Ms. Dolezal and Mr. Shkreli to craft a legal strategy that will not only clear me of all these bogus charges, but will also allow my supporters to provide me with valuable Social Security information that I will be able to use for fundraising. If you have an elderly parent or grandparent please just send me some of their paperwork and my team will make sure their money is used to fight back against Democrats and the liberal agenda.”
Dolezal admitted she was excited to work with Rep. Santos to clear his name.
“I’ll admit I’ve had a rough go of things for the past few years. It’s tough when the entire country stands united in how much they hate you. But I see a lot of myself in Congressman Santos, mainly because my mother and father are also from Brazil now, and I’ve decided that I am also a 35-year-old man,” said Dolezal. “I’ll be honest, I don’t have much legal experience. I did graduate from Harvard Law School with perfect grades three times, but the only time I practiced law was when I served on the Supreme Court under Chief Justice Earl Warren. But that was all the way back in the 2000s when I was a teen pop icon with multiple chart-topping hits.”
Legal experts believe Rep. Santos might actually have chosen a winning strategy.
“Right now Congressman Santos is one of the most reviled men in the country, but by surrounding himself with two of the most hated people of the last decade he actually comes off as somewhat sympathetic,” said defense attorney Eliza Skarrow. “We also heard that neo-nazi Richard Spencer, the guy that created Fyre Fest, and the person who wrote the Kars 4 Kids jingle might also join his legal team. He’s creating a super group of absolute pieces of shit.”
At press time, Shkreli was overheard trying to rap all the parts from that Wu-Tang Clan album he bought from memory.
Group entry is usually staggered in a haunt to prevent overcrowding, so the line is long. To keep the energy up haunts usually have scare actors walking through the lines, providing a creepy ambiance and the occasional jump scare. A24 brought its own unique spin to crowd work. Gone were the killer clowns and executioners. Instead, there was the distraught-looking 40-something stumbling from group to group confessing that she didn’t know how to be a mother. There was a man clearly just going through the motions in a conversation with his girlfriend. There were British club dancers with no script.
When we made it to the front of the line we were greeted by a man dressed in an academic-looking suit who was somehow lit by neon wherever he went. He approached each member of our party, and with a paternal energy bluntly expressed why they were a disappointment to him before ushering us into the first room.
In a spooky old room with decrepit furniture and cobwebs everywhere (neon-lit) a coffin is opened by someone inside. The man who emerges is plain-looking and distraught. He wears a sign hung around his neck which reads “Not Dracula.” He approaches your group seemingly on the verge of tears and confesses that he doesn’t know how to be a mother. It is immediately clear that this isn’t you’re typical cheap-thrill spookehouse.
You enter a bedroom lit in a neon color palette. A young woman texts from her bed, seemingly bored and unaware of your presence. Suddenly, she looks distraught. She texts frantically chanting “No, no no…” until the phone drops from her shaking hands. A scream builds on her face but never comes out. If you ask what’s going on, the host puts a finger up to your lips and tells you not to embarrass him. This goes on for 7 minutes.
Dispelling the notion that they’re too pretentious for good ole Halloween fun, A24’s next room features a Universal classic-style mummy, though he does not emerge from a tomb. He is seated at a laptop computer, interviewing for an events coordinator position with Sallie Mae. You can tell this job would be a game changer for The Mummy, and at first, he seems confident, but it just doesn’t go well. The Mummy grows alienated and despondent, barely able to muster a “thank you for your time” at the end, which is not reciprocated. He may be thousands of years old, but this Mummy clearly feels like an imposter in a world of adults.
The setting is an Irish pub where everyone seems to know each other, and seems unwilling to interact with a Cyborg patron who moseys from group to group unable to penetrate conversations. Our host explains that the Cyborg was once a welcome member of the community, but was accused of an unspeakable crime, and though proven innocent, the stigma still follows him.
The make-up is top-notch, matched only by the grounded, all-to-real performance of the two zombie actors, who feign amicability as they sign divorce papers. They congratulate themselves on being mature and able to maintain a friendship despite the breakup, but it rings false. One of them notices your group and suggests eating you. The other zombie mumbles some affirmative reply, but they don’t move. Clearly, there is too much unresolved conflict between them for the zombies to function, and they’re both in denial about it. Haunting stuff.
Yes, the “Spring Breakers” star himself is there, and after a quick initial greeting, he will try to sleep with you. When rebuked, he will immediately claim that he only tried to sleep with you as a method-acting exercise for a role he’s preparing for and that he thought you were 18. When you tell him you’re actually older than 18 he will reply “Gross.”
The transformation uses movie-quality special effects, it’s really impressive, but then once he’s a wolf he just kind of goes shell-shocked describing an accident he saw that’s clearly traumatized him. He doesn’t howl or anything. He just keeps mentioning the empty baby seat he saw, and you really don’t know what to say to the guy.
As fans of the movie, we were pumped to see a “Green Room” themed haunt. The place was made up like a dive bar and filled with people you didn’t want to mess with. Your host then impatiently tells you to get on the stage and do your set. We tried our best, but half of us had never even played an instrument before, and we felt real danger getting off that stage.
Like, for real, it’s a hospice room with an actual terminal patient hooked up to a bunch of machines. His family is there and they can’t stop crying.
You turn a corner and bam, Art The Clown from the Terrifieer movies jumps out at you. I guess they figured throwing some traditional haunted house scares in there would help satisfy everyone, but at this point, we’re all too despondent to react.
Witness the horror of real people discussing the lowest moments of their lives they were driven to by chasing the highs and lows of irresponsible gambling in what they believe to be a safe environment.
Apparently, they were adopted and they are really hung up about it, which seems clear to everyone except the creature. Denial. Trauma. Neon lighting.
In the “Men” themed room every scare actor has had their face replaced with that of Rory Kinnear. It’s an impressive feat, and we can’t imagine how they were able to do CGI in real life, but the meaning of the face swap completely eludes us.
Happy Star gives the occasional like and is barely online. They’re just glad to be here, quietly chilling in your connections list. Easily the least annoying of the bunch, only weird when they start posting about their New Age interests. Apparently they’ve gotten into crystal energy healing in Arizona and have started offering “wellness courses.” Anyway, this Happy Star is most likely enjoying life away from their computer, and they’ll sometimes remind you about that with a post.
Sure, he’s from your distant past, but this little fella is a lurker. Why is he always looking at your page? You can always rely on seeing this guy in your notifications. You give him a pass because it’s Taco Bell and that’s still your fast food of choice, but this dude will even like and comment on sponsored content. Typical chihuahua, responds to anything. Mostly in barks and quivers – don’t move too quickly around him.
Who is on LinkedIn posting advice at 5 a.m.? It’s Birdie. The early bird gets the worm and apparently hijacks the algorithm, so you’re constantly seeing her posts. But there’s some sound advice in there, so you don’t mind. Sometimes you’ll screenshot one and, like most people, never look at it again. She was apparently the first female McDonald’s mascot so, if anything, Birdie is a trailblazer. Also, she seems to actually be into eating worms.
Too many selfies from the Jollibee Bee, plus they post way, way too often. Interacts with anything you post, too. Lots of emojis, especially the awful “laugh-cry” to punctuate sentences. You don’t exactly know what they do, but they are always sharing “wins” or excited about some new campaign. Constantly networking, always busy. They’re a fucking bee, afterall. But there’s something weirdly comforting about seeing a giant red bee at all of these events. You remind yourself that it’s just a parasocial relationship, you don’t actually know this bright red bee. But you know they spoke on multiple panels last year and made Forbes 30 Under 30.
Grimace treats LinkedIn like Facebook, sending unsolicited messages and oversharing constantly. Anytime a celebrity dies, Grimace posts a long rambling post about how much this “visionary” meant to them, somehow bringing it back to a recent injury or a clogged toilet. Way too many mentions of clogged toilets. Every other post is about a clogged toilet. Makes you consider Grimace’s anatomy in a way you never wanted to. What the fuck even is Grimace? Either way, you have a message from him on LinkedIn waiting for you.
Announces every job transition as though he were the fucking President resigning. Every career transition is like an awards acceptance speech, with multiple people tagged and awkardly thanked. Conjures up the most bland lessons learned imaginable. Wow, “teamwork makes the dreamwork,” huh? How long did that one take? The Little Caesar’s guy distributes half-hearted compliments to everyone before sharing a “quirky” office photo that makes absolutely no sense. Has honestly quoted lyrics from Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” when discussing his career change. Also, for some reason, frequently repeats his comments and types in all caps.
We all have that LinkedIn connection that makes you wonder: How the fuck do I even know this person? Their name is vaguely familiar, at best. You’d click on their profile, but the last thing you need is them knowing you’ve looked at their profile page. This is basically The Noid. He’s familiar but also kinda not, like a dream or the shittiest déjà vu you can imagine. Anyway, the Noid uses posts as a way to talk about recent “personal challenges,” mostly about stopping pizza deliveries in his neighborhood. What is this dude’s deal?
Self-titled albums are usually either a band’s debut LP, or a back to basics effort years and/or albums later. This one is neither, which makes it quite tough to talk about, especially after the band’s almost perfect breakout first ska-punk LP, and their dark follow-up sophomore hardcore album. This one may have been held in higher regard if it was the band’s first album, but it sadly sounds like a cash grab, which we know is the goal of a major label release, but we’re still mad salty and sour here. Still, we find it extremely hilarious that Disney’s Hollywood Records thought that a band called The Suicide Machines would break into the mainstream like Belle and the Beast, and even more so with this album. In closing, while the first two tracks on this record have stood the test of time, the others sadly haven’t.
No one, not even Julius Caesar or Harry Potter, was expecting a new The Suicide Machines LP in the 2010s, let alone in the 2020s FIFTEEN years after their truly great album predecessor “War Profiteering Is Killing Us All,” but Jason Navarro and company love to keep ya guessing, and delivered this decade one of the better ska-punk intentionally-or-unintentionally throwback records. The band’s seventh album “Revolution Spring” came out via Fat Wreck Chords six days into Spring 2020, and just days after the Covid lockdowns started, which was a freaking romp of an empty time. Still, despite you thinking that we are eternal contrarians, we really don’t think that cold, cold, cold Detroit is the new hot, hot, hot Miami, even though it may resemble the Whole Foods known as Williamsburg with far more crime right now.
We’ll get to their most underrated LP later, but “Steal This Record,” the band’s fourth album and last major label release, is certainly The Suicide Machines’ second most underappreciated effort in their seven-album catalog. Funnily, they pulled a Chumbawamba by telling/advising/notifying/commanding people to steal an actual record, which is technically criminal behavior sans honor, that likely cost Hollywood Records six figures to make, which should also be illegal. Stand up if you agree, and provide a killing blow if you don’t. We’re unsure as to what caused the frenetic direction of this full-length, but it definitely sounds angry front to back, and most certainly more so than the band’s third and self-titled studio album. The record also came out fourteen days after the awful 9/11 tragedy, and said disaster put a pin in the band’s first single “The Killing Blow” before it even had a chance.
The fifth LP from The Suicide Machines and their first of two non-major label releases to be released on SideOneDummy Records, former home of the now disgraced Anti-Flag, likeminded Big D and the Kids Table, the impossible to describe Gogol Bordello, and Dio. For many hardcore fans of TSM, this record served as a glorious return to form after its elimination on album #3. The Suicide Machines’ highlight track from this album, which has a surprisingly high number of public streams, “High Anxiety,” is a killer ska-punk anthem, and was even featured on the soundtrack to “Tony Hawk’s Underground 2”… Do you even skate, bro? A cool point to mention is that “A Match and Some Gasoline” is the first of two TSM LPs to be recorded in The Blasting Room by Descendents’ Bill Stevenson, and The Virginia Sisters’/Blood Brothers’ Jason Livermore.
The band’s sixth/last LP for quite some time known as “War Profiteering Is Killing Us All” is the band’s best record from this century and serves as a similar sequel to 2003, like 1998 was to 1996’s for the band in genre form, songwriting prowess, and a tasty, tasty, tasty rectangular pan pizza with a crisp crust, but not a crust punk, hosers. Overall, it is a critique of the bottomed-out George Walker Bush, the meh sequel to George Herbert Walker Bush’s administration, which was very common in the punk rock world between 2000-2008, but The Suicide Machines executed its bitter sentiment better than most. Also, the tune “I Went On Tour for Ten Years And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt” is not only rad/long/fun/vibey AF, but it is one of the better song titles from a band in the Warped Tour scene.
The Suicide Machines’ sophomore LP “Battle Hymns” is BY FAR their most underrated in their vast catalog, and we would’ve love loved/hate hated to see what the goons on Twitter would’ve said about this one if it was around in the late-’90s, but happily, Elon Musk was doing way cooler things then than his troll high society billionaire shizz now. Please speak no evil about this record, as we can’t take that kind of rejection from you all; sympathy for the devil. As objective/subjective masters of our craft, we theorize that the unjustified hate for this record is because it was such a departure, and even Hollywood Records agreed, despite the fact that they are the premier hardcore punk label in all of, err, Hollywood. Like album #4, the bad babies in The Suicide Machines encouraged theft for this one, which is step one for cockblocking your work.
Like its three mega conglomerate label sequels, The Suicide Machines’ debut and groundbreaking LP “Destruction By Definition” was produced by their A&R label dude, and revered songwriter Julian Raymond, who also worked with Fastball, Cheap Trick, Mutemath, and Robert Johnson. Mr. Raymond killed it here, and the proof is in the pudding regarding track four, “No Face,” which received radio and MTV play for a lil bit, and in the band’s best song “Break The Glass,” which was on the soundtrack to the Oscar-winning “An American Werewolf in Ann Arbor.” A badass opinion is that the band’s bonus track “I Don’t Wanna Hear It” is a solid ska-punk rendition of your straight edge second cousin’s favorite song. S.O.S.: In closing, B-Rabbit opened for The Suicide Machines at the world-famous St. Andrews Hall in 1996, got booed off the stage, and wept.
Sandy would never become a Trump supporter. He’s a bleeding-heart liberal, from his loafers to those incredibly sexy bushy eyebrows. This is a guy who adopted a kid from Chino, but let’s be fair, it was a White kid, and his own child was kind of a dud. Real Biden voter here.
Surprised that the “Welcome to the O.C., bitch” guy is this far down the list? Sure, he may be a dick, but Luke is the guy who learned to deal with his own homophobic feelings after his dad turned to be a closeted car dealer and then moved to Portland, where we assume he joined a folk-punk band, so he’s probably pretty Blue.
Ryan is exactly the kind of working-class White kid full of resentment and anger you would go straight-up MAGA. But look at his track record: adopted Jewish brother, Latina girlfriend, dead White girlfriend. This kid knows the value of diversity in American culture.
The Dean of Harbor High School has seen some shit. Every student she’s ever seen has OD’d, held someone at gunpoint, or been poor, and she dealt with them all with a fair hand and didn’t even accuse them of being part of a vast pedophile conspiracy. That’s really all we can expect from educators at this point.
Luke’s mom barely appeared in the series, which means that she doesn’t have the screen presence to join something like Moms for Liberty and, by default, isn’t as bad as she could. Count your blessings, gay-cuckolded Mom.
Grandma Cohen would hate Trump with a passion, but don’t think that makes her liberal. She hates estate taxes and would spit on the grave of FDR if she could, and by that, we mean if she could again. She’s really overbearing, but she knows Anti-Semitism when she sees it.
This shameless Lindsay Lohan clone has a “Dennis Kucinich for President” bumper sticker, and her dad is a ruthless capitalist asshole. She could only be an Ivanka-style MAGA icon or go hard in the other direction, and she chose the second one. Plus, she moved to Chicago, which we all know is a Godless liberal hellhole, so she’s for sure not MAGA.
Rebecca Bloom, AKA Sandy’s sketchy college ex-girlfriend, might have killed a man and burnt down a lab, or maybe she didn’t. It’s pretty unclear, unlike her intentions to fuck a married guy she once took a Writing 101 class with. Either way, she refused to narc on the friends who may or may not have burnt down that lab, which differentiates her from pretty much everyone in Trump’s inner circle. She’s a scumbag (probably), but not that kind.
This one is surprising because you’d think that Marissa Cooper’s even wilder younger sister would be asshole enough to, at the very least, start voting hardcore racist Republican because the boring white guy she inevitably settles down and marries would force her to. However, she’s actually more likely to end up being married to Trump someday, which would mean she would hate his guts with a fire previously unseen in this world.
Dennis Childress (or “Chili,” as his buddies hated to call him) is your classic SoCal surfer dude: blonde and with a dead best friend. Plain and simple, this guy is too much of a dope even to be aware of politics, let alone a rabid white Christian nationalist movement to remove power from elected officials and place it in the hands of grifters. He’s too busy hanging ten, bro.
Much like her daughter Kaitlin, socialite mom Julie Cooper seems like she would be an automatic MAGA voter. She loves money, is willing to fuck old men, and hates poor people. However, she’s smart enough to recognize a scumbag when she sees it and probably isn’t even registered to vote. Voting is for Chino scum.
Holly Fischer was Marissa and Summer Roberts’ best friend at the beginning of the series, but she just couldn’t stop fucking Luke’s brains out at any opportunity. In all honesty, Holly would probably show up at a few MAGA rallies if she heard there were yard-long margaritas there, but her heart wouldn’t really be in it.
The Latin community in the United States has a depressingly deep conservative streak, which raises the possibility that Ryan’s old girlfriend in Chino could have headed that direction. On the other hand, she was not okay with being physically abused by a domestic partner, which puts her at odds with one of the primary standards of the modern GOP.
Summer’s dad is Orange County’s premiere plastic surgeon and a devoted father who has spent his adult life ensuring that his children are cared for, feel appreciated, loved, and respected, and grow up with a solid sense of self. What we’re saying is that he and Trump probably don’t have a lot in common other than elective surgery.
Surfer girl Casey’s only purpose on the show was to cheat on her boyfriend with a different surfer and get angry at Marissa for being prettier than her. To be honest, we’re going to guess she’s not very conservative nowadays because she died of a meth overdose in 2008.
Alex Kelly was the bad girl of the O.C. social scene, which basically means she had purple streaks in her hair and dated women sometimes, which would barely qualify her as a chaotic-neutral girl these days. She’s too contrarian to really have a cohesive political stance beyond “you suck,” so she’d probably be a Bernie voter these days.
Speaking of chaotic, Hailey Nichol is another of Orange County’s trademark wild child types lashing out against a rich daddy, or a Tiffany Trump, if you will. While many rebels end up going neo-con when they (figuratively) grow up, Hailey managed to find enough stability over the course of the show to be judgmental about others, which makes her a perfect Hillary voter.
The younger brother of Luke, this California funboy somehow had less personality than anyone but his twin brother Eric. When his older brother moved to Portland to be indoctrinated by hippie liberals, Brad stayed behind to uphold his legacy of being the biggest idiot on the beach. Undoubtedly, he could not name the current President if his life depended on it, let alone figure out what “MAGA” stands for.
See above, but flip the names.
Heather with no last name once helped kidnap Marissa, helping to trigger the events that (spoiler!) led to her death, but also managed to realize maybe she shouldn’t be helping evil people out of resentment for others. We like to think she enrolled in community college, currently works as a vet tech, and isn’t “very political.”
Gordon “The Bullet” Bullit is a wealthy Texas oilman and, as such, probably has some unpleasant views about race and which ones are best. However, he’s willing to ‘fess up that he’s done some prison time and probably would get along terribly with the Trump family, so he’d probably back whoever the current-day equivalent of Ross Perot is, just for kicks. Beto, maybe?
