Seventh Hour of Bad Trip Actually Only Five Minutes In

EAST LANSING, Mich. — Reports show that despite the acid you took having kicked in only five minutes ago, you have somehow been absolutely losing your goddamn mind for the past seven hours.

“I don’t want to be a frog,” you attempted to say to your friends no less than two dozen times as they watched you hyperventilate and rub the carpet, your Adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, unaware that you have at least eight far more intense hours to look forward to. “Oh God, please, I don’t want to be a frog. Get me out of here, get me out of this pot, it’s boiling, I can’t breathe, it’s too hot, oh God, oh God, I can’t breathe because of the commercial, you know the commercials? You have to get to work.”

The reactions of your friends have ranged from concerned to wildly amused to deeply annoyed.

“Well, they said they could handle it,” said your friend who gave you the window pane and repeatedly asked that you just imagine a nice dog you like, or that you’re in a giant field where you won’t run into any cops or parents or teachers. “I only threw them a tab and a half, but apparently it was a little too much for them to actually swallow in one go. They’ll be fine, though, once they ride it out. This shit’s high quality, definitely not some random research chemical. I know the chemist personally. They’ll be fine. I’m just glad I won’t be around them three to six hours from now.”

Your housemate, however, is less than amused.

“You’re just going to feed some kid who’s only ever done a couple ounces of Cubensis the purest LSD you could find on campus, the night before some of us work, just for shits and giggles to see what happens?” your friend stated, while cleaning up three abandoned attempts at making Kool Aid in your shared kitchen. “What the fuck is wrong with you people? I hate this house. I really fucking hate it here. It’s just one long jaunt after another. ”

At press time, the walls are continuing to pulsate a dim, foggy color as you fell through an endless white void and slipped in and out of linear time.

Seventh Hour of Bad Trip Actually Only Five Minutes In

EAST LANSING, Mich. — Reports show that despite the acid you took having kicked in only five minutes ago, you have somehow been absolutely losing your goddamn mind for the past seven hours.

“I don’t want to be a frog,” you attempted to say to your friends no less than two dozen times as they watched you hyperventilate and rub the carpet, your Adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, unaware that you have at least eight far more intense hours to look forward to. “Oh God, please, I don’t want to be a frog. Get me out of here, get me out of this pot, it’s boiling, I can’t breathe, it’s too hot, oh God, oh God, I can’t breathe because of the commercial, you know the commercials? You have to get to work.”

The reactions of your friends have ranged from concerned to wildly amused to deeply annoyed.

“Well, they said they could handle it,” said your friend who gave you the window pane and repeatedly asked that you just imagine a nice dog you like, or that you’re in a giant field where you won’t run into any cops or parents or teachers. “I only threw them a tab and a half, but apparently it was a little too much for them to actually swallow in one go. They’ll be fine, though, once they ride it out. This shit’s high quality, definitely not some random research chemical. I know the chemist personally. They’ll be fine. I’m just glad I won’t be around them three to six hours from now.”

Your housemate, however, is less than amused.

“You’re just going to feed some kid who’s only ever done a couple ounces of Cubensis the purest LSD you could find on campus, the night before some of us work, just for shits and giggles to see what happens?” your friend stated, while cleaning up three abandoned attempts at making Kool Aid in your shared kitchen. “What the fuck is wrong with you people? I hate this house. I really fucking hate it here. It’s just one long jaunt after another. ”

At press time, the walls are continuing to pulsate a dim, foggy color as you fell through an endless white void and slipped in and out of linear time.

The Next Henry Rollins? This Refrigerator Covered in Magnet Poetry Just Folded It’s Arms

In the pantheon of Hardcore elder statesmen, Henry Rollins reigns supreme. As a frontman, actor, speaker, director, radio host, and television personality Rollins has arguably made the largest cultural impact by a frequently shirtless singer since Iggy Pop.

But who will act as a surrogate father figure to angry gym bros who read and say things like “I’m sorry if you were offended by what I said” when he is gone? Look no further than a punk house refrigerator in the Logan Square area of Chicago.

When the members of Godcunt noticed that their magnet poetry and radical activism pamphlet covered refrigerator had folded its arms defensively, they knew they were looking at the next custodian of the Henry Rollins mantle.

The similarities between the two don’t end at intimidation and angst-driven poetry either. Let’s break it down:

Attitude
With its folded arms, dedication to wordcraft and various political pamphlets magnetized to its chest this refrigerator instantly fills you with a sense of “I respect you and agree with you on a lot of things, but I will always find you off-putting in a way I can never fully shake.” Sounds like a certain former singer for Black Flag to me!

Clothing
Godcunt’s refrigerator is white with some wear and tear, but the smaller freezer section on the bottom had its door broken and was replaced with a black one. In other words no shirt, black shorts.

Acting chops

The fridge has never actually done any acting, but it does have a certain magnanimous something-something. You can definitely picture it giving Will Smith and Martin Lawrence the business in a quick Bad Boys cameo.

Mostly vegan

It’s always got some bacon in the back and some guilty pleasure frozen buffalo wings in the freezer but other than that all good stuff.

Kudos to Godcunt on such an important discovery, and good luck on your path to punk integrity greatness refrigerator! If all goes well in 20 years’ time we’ll be seeing you at a small theater doing spoken word about how much you loved pussy as a teenager!

Tribute Band More of an Insult Band

CINCINNATI — Red Hot Chili Peppers tribute band, Los Jalapenos, vow to press on with their tri-state tour despite low attendance, scathing reviews, and looming legal problems, sources confirmed.

“We believe that we’ll find our audience if we keep putting out love and good vibes just like our spirit animals, Anthony Kiedis, Flea, Chad Smith, John Frusciante and Dave Navarro,” said frontman Sarkis Adamyan, who founded the group in 2008 with his brother. “It’s just tough for us to find our groove when audience members start booing us immediately. I mean yeah, we aren’t as in shape as the real Peps. We haven’t actually mastered our instruments. But we play with the same intensity.”

“Look and see I think you’ll agree; Nobody weird like me; Intercourse with a porpoise is a dream for me; Hell bent on inventing a new species!” he added doing his best impression of Anthony Kiedis.

Los Jalapenos promotional materials describe the live show as “a funk-tastic journey through the Pepperverse” but ticket sales have been practically non-existent on their current tour, according to sources.

“I always liked the Chili Peppers so I took my girlfriend to the jalapeno [sic] show, but we were the only ones there,” said college senior Ernest Mendoza. “They come on stage naked with socks on their dicks and not to body shame anyone, but after about thirty seconds we were like ‘fuck, put some clothes on.’ It also seemed like the guitar player wasn’t plugged in for most of the show. Hearing their shitty versions of ‘Under the Bridge’ and ‘Give it Away’ made me throw out the Chili Peppers album I owned, and I found a way to block them from popping up on Spotify.”

Representatives for the Red Hot Chili Peppers say they are aware of Los Jalapenos and are preparing a lawsuit,

“It has come to our attention that the bass player for Los Jalapenos, Yervant Adamyan, has on multiple occasions tried to pass himself off as Flea in public and online which has had a negative impact on Flea and his family, and has caused material harm to the RHCP brand,” said Jennifer Setiawan, Flea’s personal attorney. “We have sent Mr. Adamyan a cease and desist letter to demand that he delete all of his ‘Flea’ themed social media accounts, and strongly urge that Mr. Adamyan no longer perform as ‘Flea’ in Los Jalapenos, or in any other so-called ‘tribute band,’ or legal action will be taken.”

At press time, sources say the Adamyan brothers have been arrested and charged with indecent exposure after a performance at Dale’s Sports Bar & Grill in Hamilton, Ohio.

Former ’90s School Bully Amazed What Losers Can Get Away With Now

WINNETKA, Ill. — New Trier High School bully from the class of 1997, Al Edwin, is amazed at what losers and lame motherfuckers can get away with in 2022, according to sources.

“Back in ‘95, ‘96, I was king of the hallways,” Edwin boasted. “Any weakling, regardless of looks or attitude, was subjected to these hands, their books thrown to the ground, and told to suck my dick loud enough for me to get after school suspension. Now, the kids are getting way more uncool and nothing is being done about it. My nephew showed me some pictures of him and his friends… I would’ve shoved them all into a locker on sight. Turns out righteous abuse is a thing of the past and they can walk around liking themselves and enjoying things that interest them? What a world.”

Daniel Dustin, a friend of Edwin’s nephew set to graduate high school this year, feels relieved that he was born in the “right generation.”

“Yeah, I don’t live in a perfect world, but I can get away with a lot as far as old-timey, 90s movie bullies go,” he stated. “My hair is dyed light blue and my nails are painted. I have ear piercings and anime pins on my backpack. I dress however I like. I’m openly bisexual. Sure, I might get strange looks from the more mainstream kids, but my friends and I can do whatever we want without having to watch our backs for nine months and the only people who make us feel bad about ourselves are our parents.”

June Collins, a social worker specializing in the teenage population, is relieved to see the more accepting stance of recent years.

“My job was a lot tougher when I started out back in the early 2000s,” Collins recalled. “Losers had to look cool, be straight, and keep their heads down, and most of them were still beat up. Now, lame kids snicker whenever they even hear the words ‘bully’ and ‘bullying,’ and the super nerds who know how crypto works are almost even celebrated. That’s a huge step forward. At this rate, we’re going to see more high schoolers signing up for musicals than for football teams by 2034.”

At press time, Edwin was eating his lunch alone in a bathroom stall after the youngest of his coworkers encouraged him to “share what’s going on.”

Descendents Box Set Unearths Lengthy, 19 Second Version of “I Like Food”

MANHATTAN BEACH, Calif. — A new Descendents box set is exciting fans with never-before-heard songs and lost recordings including a version of “I Like Food” that clocks in at a whopping 19 seconds, multiple sources confirmed.

“Whoa, I forgot all about this take. Man, we would get so lost in the cosmic space of a song back then,” commented Descendents songwriter/drummer Bill Stevenson. “We wanted to draw a song out and follow it down whatever twisting path it took. Sure we were scared, but we were also young and the acid was good. But our fans were living hard and fast, and we knew we had to cut it down for the record. If you don’t expect to live to be 28, you don’t have time for this level of indulgence.”

Band archivist Phil Evans, who discovered the discarded outtake, points to the longer version of “Food” as a signal to the band’s eventual experimentation with song runtimes of up to two minutes.

“There’s no way these guys develop the chops for a 40-second masterpiece like ‘I Wanna Be A Bear,’ or the 115 seconds of pure improvisation that gave us ‘I’m Not A Loser,’ without this initial odyssean foray into the 16th second of ‘I.L.F.’” said an excited Evans. “When they hit the third bar, you can actually hear Milo, off-mic, yelling ‘Keep playing!’ I don’t think any of them imagined they’d go as deep into the jam as they did though. I mean, seconds 17, 18, and 19 are pretty fuckin’ trippy.”

However, not all fans are embracing the extended cut of the song.

“This is bullshit,” writes music journalist Mimi Clarke. “This boomer-era, directionless noodling is exactly why I rejected my parents’ music and turned to bands like Descendents in the first place. If I want to watch someone jerk off their guitar, I’ll go see Clapton. This meandering, excessive take of ‘I Like Food’ is sure to leave fans of their early work overstuffed, and pining for the Descendents who gave us indelible hits like ‘All’: one word, one second long. Everything a song needs to be, without the empty calories.”

As of press time, Descendents superfans continue to campaign for the release of a shelved version of “Hope” that is rumored to contain even more misogyny.

Unprecedented Political Genius: My Mom Thinks Everyone Should Just Get Along

There’s no denying that we live in a time of conflict. At no point in living memory has this country’s fault lines of class, race, gender, and politics seemed so unstable. But if you’re looking at the world and feeling hopeless, you obviously haven’t watched my mom watch the news.

My mother, who, unbeknownst to anyone until dinner last night, had been working out the problems of the world in the back of her mind like some kinda crazy computational matrix, has arrived at a solution that can solve every problem, on both a local and global scale: Everyone should just get along.

In recent years this country has witnessed dangerous far-right conspiracy movements evolve into a mainstream presence. What if instead of a right wing/left wing two-party system that grew exponentially more polarizing each year, we had just been nice?

You can literally apply my mom’s solution to any hot-button issue and, BAM, problem solved. Check it out:

Wage gaps – “Everybody just get along.”
Institutional racism – “Everybody just get along.”
Abortion – “Everybody just get along.”

Consider the COVID problem. Half of the country believes that precautions must be taken by everyone to stop people from dying. The other half of the country is angrily not doing that and killing people. These two groups are constantly arguing and it’s very annoying, but if they instead just got along, they wouldn’t be doing that!

If my mother’s breakthrough “everyone just get along” system was put into place during the Capitol riots they wouldn’t even be called “The Capitol riots!” They would just be called “The Capitol everyone getting along,” and doesn’t that sound nice?!

My mom has even determined that America’s true golden age was actually September 12th, 2001 because, you guessed it, “Everybody got along that day” If you don’t believe her, she posted a meme on Facebook to prove it!

My mother’s political strategy doesn’t just stop with America. Imagine the global implications of getting along. Imagine if Israel and Palestine decided to just get along and instead of doing wars were just being nice. Imagine how less dark history would have been if Hitler got along.

Yes, it wasn’t enough that my mom simplified the world by deciding that all dogs are boys and all cats are girls, she just had to go and fix the whole damned thing! If you really want to make a difference in this world take a cue from my mom and compromise everything you believe in to avoid having a single conflict ever.

Foo Fighters Invite Fans On Stage to Play Every Instrument, Every Song, Every Show Of Tour

TEMPE, Ariz. — Attendees at a recent Foo Fighters concert were treated to a special surprise when the band brought fans on stage to play drums, bass, guitar and keyboards until they were left playing every song of the entire show.

“Dude… that was so epic!” said concertgoer Hank Tadio, of the two-hour long concert. “I mean sure, my tickets were like, $200 bucks, and it would have been nice to see Dave and the boys play at least one song by themselves; but I did get to sing the lead vocals on ‘Big Me’ and my girlfriend got it all on her phone so that’s pretty sick.”

Foo Fighters founding member Dave Grohl was pleased he was able to provide so many fans with a memory they will never forget.

“Yeah… you know us. We like to put on the best show possible and get all the fans involved; even if that means not actually playing any of the songs ourselves. With our tour schedule, we decided it might be nice to take a break night in and night out.” Grohl explained. “Taylor came up with the idea to let a fan play drums for a song, and Pat was like ‘Shit, why not let them play the whole show?’ Then I was like ‘Well if Taylor’s getting a night off, why can’t I?’ So it was a collective decision that this tour is all about the fans… for the fans, and most importantly, BY the fans.”

Concert promoter Morty Bregman didn’t see the stand-ins as favorably as others, however.

“Who goes and pulls a stunt like this? I got 75% of the people asking me for a refund!” Bregman said, pacing back and forth. “They’re all complaining that they paid to see the Foo Fighters, not some glorified cover band masquerading as ‘fans’. Wait until the later dates on the tour start getting wind of this shit… they’re gonna have to change from arenas to basements.”

You can catch Foo Fighters on their latest tour, sitting side stage in recliners counting huge amounts of cash while laughing and smoking cigars.

Depressed Man Instructs Olive Garden Server to Just Leave the Cheese Grater

OVERLAND PARK, Kan. — Local pasta enthusiast, Harold Roy, told the server at the Metcalf South Mall Olive Garden location to just leave the grater of complementary parmesan cheese on the table while struggling with a severe bout of seasonal depression, stunned diners reported.

“I asked him if we wanted any shredded cheese on his Chicken Five-Cheese-Marinara Cavatappi and he said ‘yes.’ Then I just started turning that crank and he never said ‘when.’ Never,” Blanche Delgado, Roy’s server for the evening, stated while fetching another brick of cheese for him. “Finally he told me to just set the grater down and walk away without ever looking up from his plate. We aren’t supposed to do that, but I could tell he was in a bad place.”

“I was prepared to cut him off if I had to, but I saw him tuck the napkin into the neck of his shirt, so I knew he wasn’t totally far gone,” she added.

Roy, however, barely even remembers the incident.

“I guess I was in a bit of a fugue state. I don’t even remember driving to the restaurant. I just had a need to shove pasta in my mouth to keep from crying and suddenly there I was on my third plate of pasta and I was just making it snow with parmesan,” Roy reported after coming too in the afternoon of the next day. “I guess that is another Olive Garden I’m too embarrassed to return to. I’m going to have to drive all the way to Topeka from now on.”

Lola Sanchez, Olive Garden’s VP of Customer Relations, was not surprised by news of this event.

“This is a sight we see all too often at the OG, unfortunately. We have decided that it’s best for the safety of our staff and to avoid anyone making a scene to just let the customer have the grater and keep the breadsticks coming,” Sanchez explained. “We do charge them for the extra cheese, but most don’t even look at the bill when it comes, they just hand their credit card to the server and slink away into the night.”

As of closing time, several Olive Garden employees reported that Roy also stretched the limitations of what a ‘Never Ending Pasta Bowl’ legally constitutes.

Band Finally Hits It Big With New Practice Space They Can Steal Copper Wiring From

OKLAHOMA CITY — Local band Not Just a Faze got the biggest break of their career after discovering that their entire rehearsal space has a shitload of copper wiring just behind the drywall that’s ready for the taking, sources confirmed.

“We really hit the jackpot here. Not only does the landlord live out of state and only checks up on things if there’s a lapse in payment or a fire or something, I reckon there’s at least 40 yards of copper in this unit alone,” said frontman Jared Klein as he oiled up his wire strippers. “Our bassist Dylan is a small dude, so if he can get into the crawl space, we’re looking at a huge payday. Copper density is 8.96 grams per cubic centimeter last time I checked, so we’re looking at, like, $200. This is the break we’ve been working for.”

Casey Briggs, the landlord in question, states that she is not as ignorant of the petty theft as the band thinks she is.

“The funny thing is that I own the entire strip mall, but nobody really wants to rent there because it’s full of rot and also in the middle of Tornado Alley. I also have a closed-circuit camera set up on one of the lamp posts outside,” Briggs asserts. “Unless they’re playing in the shittiest folk band known to man, then it’s pretty obvious that they’re using those buckets from Home Depot to haul out scrap. I really couldn’t care less. Truth be told, I have a nice insurance policy for any and all damages, and nobody else is renting. This is the break I’ve been waiting for.”

Music accountant Leon Chodroff isn’t unfamiliar with the financial activity of bands in a similar situation.

“I’ve been preparing taxes for bands for decades, and it’s always the same thing — they think if they make a big score on copper wire, vintage wallpaper, or leftover drink tickets from the night before, then they’re set. It’s how they spend that screws them over,” Chodroff said with a knowing gaze. “See, they get excited that they can score an 8 ball for the weekend, but then that’s where all the money ends up going. Whenever line 11 on their tax forms sees a spike, they lose the rehearsal space shortly after. It’s best if they use whatever extra money they find to fund the rent, and then they can find drugs on their own time.”

At press time, every band member was spotted trying to operate an excavator that has a $300 per hour rental fee.

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