NEW YORK – The fraud trial of Donald Trump began with heartfelt letters from Hollywood couple Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis testifying to the defendant’s upstanding character, according to reports.
Kutcher’s letter, read aloud by Trump’s defense attorney, recounted a memorable golf outing. “I remember the time Trump showed me how to turn a triple bogey into a hole-in-one. It was truly a masterclass in alternative scorekeeping,” wrote Kutcher.
Kunis on the other hand focused on the president’s transparency.
“Not only is Donald not a fraud, he’s as transparent as they come,” her letter read. “One time he showed me all these really intense documents – maps with big arrows and troop movement plans on them. So cool!”
Lead prosecutor Janis Dorris was unimpressed, telling cameras outside the courtroom, “While Mr. Kutcher’s golfing anecdotes enlightening, this trial is about financial fraud and/or me getting as much TV time as I can. Let’s focus on that #NoNonsenseDorris”
Outside the courthouse, a mix of supporters and detractors gathered. Some held signs reading “Trump’s Scorecard is Always Right,” while others sported t-shirts with Kutcher and Kunis’s faces crossed out.
Unconfirmed rumors suggest that a similar letter of endorsement from Kanye West’s was rejected as it contained too many antisemitic slurs.
The above article was reported live on our podcast Hard World News. Listen by clicking here.
Whether or not you’ve obtained a legal vendor’s permit through the proper channels, is none of Charlie’s concern.
It’s probably safe to assume that Ugly Naked Guy would be the one who’s getting the police called on him for exposing himself to a minor. He’s going to do whatever he can to avoid the heat.
He’s too famous to care about something so inconsequential as the legality of a child’s lemonade stand. There’s no way he’s stopping, either. He doesn’t think about you, kids, laws, and he never will.
As the manager of a small business, Gunther wouldn’t be one to stifle the joy of a young entrepreneur. In fact, he might even offer great business advice but it’ll probably go unnoticed by everyone around him given his forgettable voice, face, and general vibe.
Parker is sure to be jazzed to see a lemonade stand on his block. You bet he’s gonna buy a cup and describe every sensation he feels with every sip. “It’s like my tongue has just witnessed the sunrise for the first time.” But his commentary quickly becomes grating and you’ll end up having to escort him off your property for bothering the neighbors.
Bless her heart, Erica would not even know what a vendor permit is.
If Joey passed by a kid selling lemonade you best believe he’s gonna throw down every quarter in his pocket to quench his never-ending thirst. He’ll down the whole pitcher, belch, and then give the little “champ” a high-five before hitting on someone’s mother.
Tag’s too laid back, young, and dumb to have any ounce of entitlement. He’d buy a cup before spotting a hoverboard peeking out of their garage and politely ask to take it for a spin. He’ll no doubt break his arm but he’ll be smiling all the way to the emergency room.
Phoebe would be so amped to see a little kid selling lemonade. The sight would make her reminisce about a time when she was a child, begging her parents to allow her to have a lemonade stand of her own. Then she’ll bring down the entire mood by mentioning her mother’s suicide and how she was homeless by the age of 14, telling the little 8-year-old to live it up while they still can.
Janice would screech, “Oh my gawd, look at the little businessman!” while everyone plugged their ears. She’ll be that annoying aunt you dread to see because you’re constantly embarrassed by the amount of attention she gives.
Mike’s childlike behavior is sure to emerge when he’s in the presence of a child. Before you even realize it, he’ll be chatting away with your kid about cartoons and video games. Chances are you’ll have to intervene when the conversation between the two gets heated about which Dragon Ball Z character is the strongest.
Despite growing up wealthy and entitled, Rachel grew into a very grounded and down-to-earth adult after being financially cut off by her parents. She understands the emotional turmoil of earning a dollar, so she’ll be excited to buy a cup before gossiping to you about that one house on the corner.
Carol understands that even if your kid’s lemonade stand doesn’t have a permit it’s not right to call the authorities on a child. She’s gonna buy herself a cup and make sure that Susan stays inside that day.
Tech Millionaire and aspiring UFC champ Pete Becker, is always trying to prove that despite his wealth, he’s still a man of the people. That’s why when he sees your kid’s lemonade stand he’ll buy a cup for 25 dollars and not realize the price is actually 25 cents.
Fun Bobby’s only concern in life is finding the next party. If he comes around he’s gonna buy a cup, spike it with liquor, and shoot the shit with you. But, before you know it, he’s downed 3 pitchers and is now drunkenly telling you about all the women in the neighborhood he’s slept with while their husbands were away.
There’s nothing more amusing than a ruggedly handsome, emotionally fragile man. Upon seeing a loving relationship that you have with your kid, memories of his past will flood in and he’ll be a puddle of tears by his second sip.
As a former high school teacher she would be delighted to see a young person in America get out of the house and do something productive instead of wanting to be some brainless TikToker. It’s clear her projection is due to her own three brainless children each on their own iPad watching a ten-hour Mr. Beast YouTube video.
No, Jack wouldn’t be one to call the cops. But he probably would refuse to buy a cup because he heard one time that the acid in lemons weakens your enamel and he needs to hold on to the little he has left.
Judy’s not the type to discipline another child. She would likely fawn over the “adorable little setup you have going on here” before making backhanded comments to Monica about her adopted grandchildren. With a strong emphasis on the word adopted.
Chandler would walk up and when you ask, “would you like a lemonade, sir?” He’ll sarcastically joke, “No, I’m just here to hit on your daughter.” Then laugh before realizing what he just said. He’ll try to save it by saying, “I don’t find your daughter attractive, sir.” But he makes it worse. “Not that she’s ugly. Because for a girl her age, she’s a knock-out.” He’ll laugh once more and add, “Yeah, I think I’ll just go.”
Paolo would be confused to see a small vendor booth in a suburban neighborhood. He’ll be momentarily transported to the streets of Italy where he used to buy gelato from an old woman with no left eye. He’ll approach the booth and struggle to read the sign, “Le-moan-add?” but then it’ll click, “Ah, si limonata.” There’s no way he’s not buying a cup.
Look around—do you really think you’ll find a stimulant in this joint? Everyone looks like they’ve been stricken with terminal ennui. These freaks are probably strung out on some weird drug you’ve never heard of that doesn’t even make them feel good. Some little dude offers you a spoonful of some shit called garmonbozia, but you wisely pass. They do let you smoke inside, so that’s pretty dope. But none of these depressed lowlifes seem like they’d be able to help you get that 8-ball.
Sorry, there’s no coke at this subterranean post-apocalyptic rave. Operation Dark Storm blocked the sun and killed off all vegetation on Earth—including the precious coca plant. There is a greasy white guy with dreadlocks who can jack you into the Matrix and run a cocaine simulation, but you probably don’t want to be totally checked out in case the flying squid robots show up. Better to stick with jenkem, of which the filthy future-hippies of Zion have plenty.
There’s lots of coke at the Bing, but probably not for a no-count mamaluke like you. The bartender would be suspicious of an outsider coming around asking for drugs, and he’d likely summon Paulie and a crew of goombahs to beat the shit out of you with pool cues. Then, they’d tie you up and Tony would slap you over and over, asking if Uncle June sent you. Sorry, you’re probably going to wind up at the bottom of the Passaic River.
After you get led through a secret door at the back of a downtown slaughterhouse, you find yourself in the midst of a raging party filled with attractive people dancing their heads off to electronic music. Someone here has got to have some shit to sell you, right? The thing is, if you’re looking for a toot, you’re in for a bad time. Vampires actually don’t do a lot of coke since not seeing their reflection in the mirror while they snort lines tends to freak them out. Recommended attire: Some sort of ascot, scarf or other neck protection.
Ordinarily, buying some gack at this Eurotrash hotspot would be no problem. The clientele is generally so zooted they barely noticed that time a robot walked through the crowd and dragged some thug out by his hair. If you were unlucky enough to show up after that buzzkilling cyborg made an appearance, people would probably be too freaked out to break out the goods. Sure, there’s always yeyo to be found in Old Detroit, but the supply chain suffered a big hit after Clarence Boddicker took a data spike to the neck.
Judging by the hordes of scumbags in attendance, it’ll be no problem to find someone to sell to you here, but it’s wise to buy your bag quickly and split. The decor—including a blindfolded baby doll in a ring of barbed wire—leaves something to be desired. Besides, there’s always the chance that Pinhead could show up again and start stabbing people in the head with poorly rendered CG ice daggers or shooting his chains and hooks all over the place.
Even though the nocturnal incarnation of The Peach Pit hosted some cool bands like The Cramps and Flaming Lips, the drug landscape there was pretty lame. Kelly was fond of nose candy for a little while, but she’s since gone to rehab and cleaned up. The only one among the uptight 90210 crew that really parties is David, though he famously favors meth. He might offer to hook you up with some flake, but he’s the type of scumbag who would take your money and never come back, leaving you broke and jonesing.
You’d be right to think that a club in a Miami-like city in the ’80s would be overflowing with booger sugar—however, the vibe around here is a bit off-putting. There never seems to be more than a handful of listless, stiffly dancing, vacant-eyed dullards in this huge joint. The whole atmosphere is pretty lame, in fact. Several of the patrons are probably holding, but even the idea of navigating a transaction with one of these blocky dorks is exhausting.
You’ll need to go mad enough from cabin fever to pierce the veil between this world and the one beyond if you want to rub elbows with the ghostly revelers at their 1921 July 4th soirée. Cocaine was still technically legal then, but you would mainly find it in soft drinks and elixirs, and you’d probably get a belly ache from drinking all that stuff before you actually got blitzed. However, people are saying the guy in the bear costume is slinging, so you should probably try to party with that dude.
Yup, there’s coke here. You think you’re going to get all those goths to dance like that to My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult without a little pharmaceutical enhancement? You try lacing up 20-eye Docs sober. The real action is in the penthouse, of course, where Top Dollar rules his criminal empire, though you’d better hope you’re a bullet-proof goth ghost if you accidentally interrupt the annual crime boss social while you’re looking for the bathroom.
It figures you’d be wearing a Hawaiian shirt the night you decide to check out this club where the dress code seems to be white jumpsuits and codpieces. Though they specialize in vellocet and synthemesc milks, the bartender is willing to make you one laced with cocaine instead. You tip generously and take a seat, feeling the gaze of a mascara-wearing gang of blokes in bowler hats. You’re surprised when the one comes over and invites you out with them for a night of “ultraviolence”, but hey, when in Rome, right?
It’s probably not a good idea to try and score while Batman is actively busting skulls in the Penguin’s hangout. However, it is a bad guy club in Gotham City, so of course there’s abundant polvo to be had here once the dust has settled. Don’t be surprised if you spot Bruce Wayne blowing some rails in the bathroom later on—he’s very dedicated to keeping up his authentic millionaire playboy appearance.
When you read all the glowing reviews of this place online, you just had to come check it out. Too bad no one mentioned it’s less of a nightclub and more of a hangout for at-risk youth. That being said, it is a pretty cool joint. There are arcade games, a skateboard ramp, gambling and kids shooting pool and slinging cigs. Granted, it feels a little weird to be buying a bag from a seventh grader, but any port in a storm as they say.
There are a bunch of fucked up looking aliens in this wretched hive of scum and villainy, but no one that really seems like they’d have what you’re after. But wait, there’s Han Solo, infamous galactic smuggler! Don’t act all surprised that Han is the galaxy’s go-to guy for coke—what exactly did you think he was smuggling all this time? Counterfeit Gucci bags? There’s so much snow in the Falcon’s secret compartment it looks like Hoth in there.
Now we’re talkin’. This place is teeming with minor league dealers in Members Only jackets with little ponytails. Just ask anyone—they’ll hook you up and you’ll be hitting the slopes in no time. Sure, once a time-traveling cyborg showed up and murdered dozens of people. Big deal! The chance of being killed in a mass shooting is a risk every American takes just leaving the house these days. Besides, they say lightning never strikes the same place twice, so you’re probably extra safe there.
If this truly is your favorite Ice Nine Kills LP, you have less than zero authority on anything in life, liberty, and the pursuit of sadness, AND no chance to make any sort of amends for such a gaffe that showcases that you learned absolutely nothing in study hall, and you’re not dancing tonight, tomorrow, or any night in the future. Basically, there’s a reason why this LP doesn’t show up on Spotify, and it’s likely not because the band is behind on TuneCore payments, cinder blocks, or thank you knots. Fun fact: It IS on Apple Music, so this LP isn’t THAT bad. Anyway, INK’s debut “Last Chance to Make Amends” sounds like a combination of “Deja Entendu,” Atreyu, and New England Clam Chowder in a nutritious way, even if Chowda is technically bad for you because of its high sodium/deplorable accent content.
After revisiting the band’s six album catalog, Ice Nine Kills’ third studio album “The Predator Becomes the Prey” effectively acts as a gateway drug to the band’s current symphonic, gory, polarizing, and Presidential but not Biden or Trump direction, which truly sounds like it starts with its follow-up LP that came out nearly two full years later called “Every Trick in the Book,” but we’ll get to that fantastic/rockin’ album later. This record proves that the band is consistent in the best way, and contains eleven succinct, heavy, melodic, and fun, fun, fun tracks, which is a much creepier number now because of “Stranger Things,” Millie Bobby Brown, and not Drake, but we digress. Also, at just under forty minutes, this record isn’t too much of an investment in time if you haven’t tuned into it already… But you likely have if you’ve read this far!
Re-recorded/re-released LPs sadly don’t count here or in any other publication that has both a heart of gold and a gentle yet firm grasp on reality, but INK definitely and happily made said version, uh, count. Yeah. Anyway, the band may have gotten better as musicians since 2010, as showcased seven years later on “Safe Is Just a Shadow (Re-Shadowed and Re-Recorded),” but the original effort via Red Blue Records, which was released not too long before they signed with the now defunct Outerloop Records referenced here simply known as “Safe Is Just a Shadow” (sans parentheses) is endearing, and is the band’s first good album in their catalog. So this is OUR future without evidence on fire: To put it cockily/emotionally, the sophomore slump isn’t a hard solid, wet liquid, smelly gaseous, or plasma screen TV manner to describe Ice Nine Kills.
The plot sickens with each tess-timony from the creepy, crawly, crazy, and cringe people in the attic, which may or may not include Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter, a hat that is angry, a comedic pair of socks, a bloodbath, the British sci-fi film “Beyond,” the beast, and the harlot: “Every Trick in the Book” is the band’s fourth studio album, first record to highlight selected pieces of non-scary children’s books, best release since the group’s inception and before 2018, and first of three INK LPs so far to be solely released through Fearless Records. Even though “Star-Crossed Enemies” resembles Bring Me The Horizon’s hit “Drown” in various ways, star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet but not Macbeth would likely blast this track as they descended into lunacy.
As you know or claim to, sequels aren’t often better than their originals, but this one is pretty darn tootin’ close. “The Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood,” INK’s sixth and most recent effort, is so, so, so close to perfect, and is the first LP from the band as an already pretty huge act in the scene and beyond; much respect/love/admiration/jealousy to the five-piece for getting to that point, and literally debuting at number eighteen on the Billboard 200. Like the album before it, there are a plethora of features here from heavy and hell bands like Papa Roach, Corpsegrinder, Atreyu, and Europe, and each respective artist brings their own element to the Ice Nine Kills formula, which works like a charm in a lucky and green box.
This album might as well have been called the golden yell, as it is the Olympic medal winner here like Kurt Angle… It’s true! In addition to acquiring such a sterling, sound, savage, and sensual victory, but not the artist formerly known as Victory Records, prize, there are no “skip it” tracks on this LP, so you can stop and/or start bitching at us now. Anyway, whether you hate it or the antonym for “hate” said LP, it is impossible to deny that “The Silver Scream” is easily one of the more ambitious rock albums from the 2010s and beyond, and we know that that statement is far from a grave mistake that rocks your scandalous and bootylicious boat under the sea with that wuss, off base, dumb AF, and unhelpful Flounder from “The Lion King”. Screw that fish. To close this out, love bites… and so does INK!
He’s manipulative. He’s opportunistic. He’s a psychopathic charlatan and a hypocrite. Powell is a lot like my dad honestly, and only outranks him because he has tattoos.
At least if Henry was your dad it would all be over fast.
He hates his son because he accidentally killed his mother. At least he has a good reason for being crazy and hating his kid. The beef with my dad goes back to a television remote I broke in 1989. I was 4.
Pretty crappy to his son throughout the movie, but my own dad has scarred me more with a lot less electricity superpowers.
It took months of cold mountain isolation, alcohol withdrawal, and paranormal influence to get Jack to cave to his murderous impulses. For my dad, it took a screen door closing too loudly.
He would literally kill just to keep his grocery store open. Anyone that dedicated to workaholism is hiding from a pretty dysfunctional home life. Still, he’s a provider.
He’ll try to make you watch him kill people for sexual gratification, but he’ll never try to make you watch the New York Mets.
Okay, he kills people, but hey, he dresses up as Santa for Christmas! When we asked Dad to do it he said “only pedos do that.”
If there is a creature on this earth capable of being worse than a father can be, it’s a stepfather, but at least Jerry has the decency to sever ties with his secret past family before hitching up with yours. My dad took way too many “business trips” for a guy living off a disability scam.
Growing up my dad was pretty much constantly on the verge of murdering us all with a pair of hedge trimmers, and he damn sure wasn’t going to take us on a fun day at the lake first.
Leatherface is misunderstood. We all think of him as this wild skin wearing maniac, but the guy wears an apron. He has a methodical process. He’s a craftsman. He’s probably just looking to take someone under his wing and show them the ropes.
What’s scarier than the calls coming from inside the house? How about the calls not coming at all for huge lengths of time? Dad, did you really need 6 months and all the rent money to go get a 6 pack from the corner store?
Psycho 4 ends with Norman burning down the motel and declaring himself free and ready to settle down and start a family. He does have a track record of relapse, but there was never Psycho 5 so maybe he made it.
He’s slow to warm up, but once he murders you, scalps you, and uses your scalp and clothes to decorate a mannequin, he’s your best friend.
There’s no nightmare Freddy Krueger could throw my way scarier than that one I keep having about running into my dad at a race track and he’s not wearing any shoes. I dunno I can’t really describe it but it’s terrifying.
I would fully accept my dad’s serial killing if he at least had an appreciation for the arts.
My dad realistically would probably not lock himself in a theater to stalk and kill a troupe of young actors, but he would also never wear an owl mask for fun so, you know, give/take.
He has a descendant in the third one and he takes an interest in her life. It’s primarily an interest in convincing her to kill in his name, but it’s an interest.
Having lived life as a woman for 24 hours must have given him at least a higher level of insight than the man who explained to me that all dogs are boys and all cats are girls.
His methods are unorthodox and dangerous with a pretty low success rate, but at the end of the day, he wants you to learn a valuable life lesson, not get him another beer.
The scene where he yells at his mutant son for overpaying the hooker because he could have gotten him a cheaper hooker contains more familial warmth than any memory I have.