Ungrateful Band of Sellouts Doesn’t Put Free Stickers in With Merch Orders

Posted on by John Danek

EL PASO, Texas — Post-hardcore band Asbestocide reportedly sold out what little cred they’ve obtained by not including free swag such as stickers or buttons in with their merch orders, betrayed fans declared.

“If I spend my hard-earned cash to support your band by buying a sick graphic long sleeve tee, I expect to be compensated for my efforts,” explained former Asbestocide fan Kelly Chaudhary, who has since returned her shirt, now covered in cat hair, via mail. “What are you, a bunch of diehard capitalists? Am I just a customer to you? If the answer is no, then give me some free shit! I would have put those stickers in highly visible places, like my laptop, or even my water bottle. You can’t buy that sort of exposure. They fucked up.”

Terry Ludwig, bassist and backup vocalist of Asbestocide, attempted to justify the band’s merch practices to fans.

“We were finally getting some heat behind the band when the pandemic hit, and we haven’t been able to play shows or rehearse for over a year — money’s tight!” explained Ludwig, whose punk status continues to fall after being seen allegedly paying for extra guac at Chipotle. “We have to save band money wherever we can. So for now, no free goodies in with orders. And let’s get it straight: our stickers are super high quality. They’re durable! These stickers will surely outlive your fandom of us as they rot on your snowboard or crusty refrigerator in an apartment you rent.”

Professional sticker designers applauded the band for not giving away the decals, and admitted they are sick of their products being treated like worthless baubles.

“My art has value! How dare you treat stickers like packets of ketchup or songs on Spotify. Each die-cut sticker is a piece of art that should be taken seriously as a commodity,” stated a defiant Raoul Lambert, owner of Sticker, I Hardly Know Her, LLC. “I work long, tough hours with indecisive bands to create a product which will end up in urinals, Crate guitar amps, or 1993 Ford Tempo bumpers. I source the finest papers and polymers for my product. It’s time I get some respect around here.”

Asbestocide garnered further criticism at their first post-quarantine show after not throwing their drum sticks or guitar picks into the crowd.

Review: Power Trip ‘Hornet’s Nest’

Posted on by Kevin Tit

Grammy-nominated metal giants Power Trip were part of a new breed of bands that pushed the limits of the genre. This song was originally part of an Adult Swim singles series that quickly became a fan favorite, racking up over one million streams faster than any other song in the band’s catalog.

I actually meant to pick up a copy of the Hornet’s Nest flexi 7” from their merch booth when I saw them in Baltimore back in 2019 but unfortunately, I broke my neck headbanging during their set and was rushed out in an ambulance. I tried to convince the venue staff to let me stay but the dickhead venue owner said there was “a bone sticking out of my neck” and that I “should go to the hospital immediately”.

Lucky for me, Adult Swim was aware of my work as a high-profile music journalist and sent over one of the original test pressings of the flexi directly via UPS Red. Now, I’m not one hundred percent sure why or how this happened, but my mail person ended up delivering the 7” to my neighbor’s house where it’s been sitting on their porch for the last couple of weeks. I would have snagged it by now, but there just so happens to be a giant hornet’s nest on that porch as well. How’s that for fucking irony?

This thing is massive. So massive that I’m pretty sure the people living there just abandoned using the front door altogether. The city deemed it a public health hazard and sent someone out to remove it last week but that poor bastard ended up getting stung so bad he was helivaced to the hospital and put in a medically induced coma. I think he’s still unconscious.

Despite all that happening I was still determined to try and get it myself. I mean, UPS Red isn’t cheap. I didn’t want Adult Swim to waste all that money because of some massive colony containing hundreds, maybe thousands of aggressive poisonous hellbeasts with wings. So, about two nights ago I decided to take my shot. I threw on my leather jacket and my roommate’s motorcycle helmet for protection and crept on over.

I figured since the sun was down they were asleep and even if a few weren’t, I had more than enough protection. I was sadly mistaken. They were not asleep. I took a step on that wooden porch and it made a loud creak which startled a lot of them because they immediately swarmed me before I could even reach to grab my package. There were so many all over the helmet and in a panic, I took it off, threw it at the nest on the porch and ran for my fucking life. I got about three blocks before I realized they were gone.

Turns out that when I threw the helmet, it knocked down the nest right on top of my package which has now become a part of their new home. I also found out I’m allergic to hornets after one crawled under my jacket and stung me directly on my nipple. None of this has changed how I feel about Power Trip though. The song got over a million listens on Spotify for a damn reason.

Score: 5/5 EpiPens.

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Review: Kevin Smith’s He-Man Is Faithful Except for All the Characters Wearing Hockey Jerseys and Jorts

Posted on by Ian Yamamoto

Kevin Smith’s “Masters of the Universe: Revelation” is a faithful continuation of 1983’s “He-Man,” chock full of the colorful villains and heroes we all know and love from the original series. However, “Revelation” features one small, but crucial change: For some reason, all the characters are dressed in NHL jerseys and jean shorts, and talk endlessly about “Star Wars” and eating ass.

Smith’s “New JersEternia” universe in which this show resides takes inspiration from its source material, but at the same time is very much infused with Smith’s DNA. Castle Greyskull still exists but is now shaped like a convenience store. In the review episode, the main characters hang out inside and talk about magic, Wayne Gretzky, and CW’s “The Flash” for 10 minutes before anything resembling a storyline begins.

When Skeletor and his crew finally show up, it seems that the show has been gearing up for a huge battle, but instead the heroes and villains trade quips about sucking dick for another 10 minutes before smoking a bowl together. Then they fight for 2 minutes. After defeating Skeletor, Prince Adam makes a bong out of The Lord of Destruction’s skull and starts ripping tubes. Skeletor gets high off it somehow, and then they have a meta conversation about superhero/supervillain dichotomy for the remainder of the episode. Maybe it was a bit talk-heavy and meandering, but hey, what Smith script isn’t?

Drug use and penises aren’t the only things that made their way from the View Askewniverse to New JersEternia, with Smith’s frequent co-star Jason Mewes also appearing. Mewes plays Stinkor, a skunk-man whose powers involve smelling really bad. It’s unclear whether the smell is caused by the JersEternian equivalent of weed or if this is yet another Mewes character that seems like he doesn’t bathe. I for one am looking forward to the fleshing out of this character and why he smells.

All in all, this was a strong pilot episode from Smith. Prince Adam’s costume of a portly man in a Devils jersey with a pair of JNCO jean shorts was confusing at first, and Skeletor is clearly inspired by Smith’s nemesis Bruce Willis, but the jokes about farting during butt play made me laugh. Not as good as “Clerks” or “Dogma,” but likely better than the rest of his movies.

4 out of 5 Dick-Shaped He-Man Swords

Sex Museum in Japan Entirely Pixelated

Posted on by Ken Taro

TOKYO — The Seikoi Museum of Sex in Kabuki-cho, the red-light district of Japan’s capital, opened its doors for the first time earlier this week in accordance with Article 175 of the Criminal Code of Japan, which requires genitalia to be censored in pornography.

“Factions of the government deemed the sex organs obscene in the 1800s to appease the first conservative visitors from the West. Today, we are unveiling new and exciting ways to disguise those naughty bits, such as transposing digital mosaics of Hello Kitty over the pubic area,” bragged museum director Takeshi Sasaki. “Penises are not allowed to be depicted in their full glory like they were in shunga paintings from the past, which ironically over-emphasized the genitals. These days, tentacles have replaced them in many situations to bypass the laws. As you may have noticed, the benches in here are octopus tentacles so that people can avoid sitting on exhibits they can’t see, such as our giant Pocky sticks covered in pubic hair.”

As guests poured in, everything below their beltlines was automatically pixelated to fit in with the theme.

“I love how immersive the experience is,” mused Maik Freytag, a German tourist. “Anyone standing next to each other look like they could be fucking simply because of the complementary genital censorship. Sex culture in my country is also famous worldwide, and nudity isn’t seen as a big deal. The attitude of our explicit porn is known as ‘ichzeigdirmeinewenndumirdeinezeigst,’ which roughly translates to ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’ However, I am enjoying the secretive nature found here, so I will be visiting the gift shop to buy pixelated condoms in the hopes that I can mimic the life of a Japanese porn star at home.”

Legendary porn actress Sakura, a Hungarian immigrant who moved to the country to exploit the rising number of Japanese men who fetishize white women, served as the guest of honor at the museum opening.

“I never knew I could ever be considered exotic, but here I am,” explained Sakura. “It’s funny because people can’t even see half of my body here. I’m getting paid the money I would normally make filming 10 movies just to dry hump this 7-foot-tall Pikachu doll for a few hours. I wish all of my gigs were this easy.”

Sasaki hypothesized that the venue’s interactive, 3D bukkake simulator would be the most popular exhibit.

Why It’s so Hard To Make Friends as an Adult When You Don’t Try Whatsoever

Posted on by Bobby Korec

Let’s be honest, making new friends after the age of 22 is nearly impossible. I would know. I haven’t made a single new one since being in school, when friendships came out of thin air. Come to think of it, all my friendships up to this point just sort of happened. Damn, why is it so hard to make friends as an adult when you don’t try at all?

And it’s not like I’m not doing just anything. I’m not doing a TON. I sit back, keep to myself, and hardly participate in organized events and meetups. Just like during my youth. So what exactly am I doing wrong here? They should make it easier to acquire friendships as an adult. Or at least they should publish some sort of manual I can buy and never read.

One of the reasons it’s so hard to make friends as an adult when you don’t try at all is because other people aren’t putting in the time anymore. I get that we’re all adults and we’re busy now, but would it kill someone to make the first move and ask me if I want to go jet skiing on their personal jet skis this weekend?

It’s also pretty clear that adults feel they need to be wooed like a southern debutante before they can take the plunge into adult companionship. What am I supposed to even do, anyway? Invite my coworkers to get gussied up and head down to the ol’ Society of Martha Washington Colonial Pageant and Ball? Well, I actually did try that once and they got all weird.

And let’s not forget that it’s also way easier to make enemies as an adult when you don’t try whatsoever. Hell, half the time those enemies are the same people you tried to make your friends. I don’t understand the logic behind that, but I can tell you firsthand that it’s just the way adulthood works.

Mars Rover Accidentally Rolls Into GWAR Rehearsing

Posted on by Chris Jones

HOUSTON — Scientists at NASA monitoring the Perseverance Rover made a startling discovery today when it sent back photos of GWAR rehearsing on Mars, multiple baffled sources confirmed.

“We were completely taken by surprise. We were hoping to find samples of microorganisms in the fossil record, but out of nowhere we see GWAR just shredding the hell out of the fucking planet,” stated NASA deputy project scientist Katie Morgan. “When we first heard ‘Viking Death Machine’ playing, we figured one of the interns had been playing it over the office speaker, but sure enough, it was GWAR going ham. We had to beg them to stop spraying the rover with blood and trying to feed it to World Maggot; this thing cost over two billion dollars.”

Despite not normally engaging in surprise interviews with the press, GWAR’s lead howler, The Berserker Blothar, stunned officials with comments on their interaction with NASA.

“We finally find a rehearsal space not far from our new slaying grounds on Earth, and you puny mortals have the nerve to drive your toy into it? You mere humans will learn to regret the day you crossed GWAR and signed a death sentence for your entire race,” announced The Berserker Blothar. “Humans are a parasitic disease that must be eradicated from Earth, and now Mars. The time has come for us to slaughter you all and rebuild the world without you pathetic mistakes in it.”

Mars fanatic and visionary SpaceX CEO Elon Musk was quick to respond to the discovery, sources confirmed.

“My team at SpaceX has known that GWAR frequents Mars for jam sessions for quite some time now,” stated Musk. “I didn’t want to reveal it to the public because I promised our astronauts the rare opportunity of exclusive time with GWAR. SpaceX astronauts are guaranteed to be the first crowd sprayed with semen and maggots on Mars by GWAR. I definitely plan to deliver on this promise, and now that the cat is out of the bag we are going to have to drastically speed up our timeline so we can get there before that bald fucker Bezos. There’s no way those Blue Origin fucks deserve the first show— they probably only know like two GWAR songs tops.”

As of press time, GWAR destroyed the Perseverance Rover for making the grave mistake of interrupting their BBQ and board game night.

We Blew Weed Smoke in This Spider’s Face and the Next Web She Wove Was a Pulp Fiction Poster

Posted on by Eric Navarro

Dude, we got this new strain of weed from Maryland called “Bong Hit Transplant,” and it will melt your face. Anyway, me and my friends were in the circle passing the bowl around as usual, when Lauren saw this gnarly looking giant spider about to make a web. That’s when Rachel had the sick idea that we should not be hanging around near huge spiders, but then I had the even sicker idea that we should share some of this ganja with our eight-legged friend.

I blew my next cloud right in that spider’s face before forgetting all about it and going inside to fall asleep to a Revolutionary War documentary. But when I awoke, I was shocked to see that the spider had finished weaving her web, which was an exact replica of the “Pulp Fiction” poster I had on my wall.

This thing was unbelievable! It felt like John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson were gonna leap out of the web and smoke my stoner ass. That spider knocked every detail out of the park, right down to the texture of Jules’s afro! This web made the “some pig” web from Charlotte’s Web look like a piece of dog shit! Why was that spider named after a weed strain, anyway?

I needed that thing in my room. The first thing I did was try to frame it, but that didn’t work. All I got were sticky hands and a pissed off spider glaring at me as if to say, “Woah man, not cool. That was like, my art, man.” And, ya know, I get that. It was uncool on my part. So I told the spider, “Oh. My bad, bro,” which is my go-to phrase when it comes to cooling down heated situations created by my stoned decision making. The spider seemed chill, so we were able to move past it.

Next, I got really fucking high and realized the best course of action was to move my room outside to where the spider’s web was. A few minutes later, I realized how silly that was. I’d need to be way higher if I were to move my entire room outside. So I did that. I was able to get my couch and TV out there but gave up once I realized there was no place to hang Scarface and Bob Marley.

I admit this was a low point for me. That’s when I got my best idea yet: get really fucking high again. Then it hit me. My room isn’t just my room. And my house isn’t just my house. This world is ours. It’s all of ours. It’s a part of us, and we are a part of it. By that logic, the spider web/”Pulp Fiction” poster is already in my room. This array of furniture and snacks I brought outside is not a mess I should clean up because it looks like it’s about to rain. It’s my home. It’s everyone’s home. It’s exactly what it needs to be, and that’s okay.

That’s when I fell asleep on the couch, and woke up soaking wet on a ruined couch in the middle of a thunderstorm. I abandoned the idea and decided to just get high and watch “Pulp Fiction.” Upon re-watching, it’s a fun flick, but the story is disjointed and all over the place. Whoever made this movie must not have been high enough.

Therapist Gives Patient One Month to Live

Posted on by Bobby Korec

LOS ANGELES — Local therapist Dr. Dana Therenspoon gave their patient exactly one month to live during a routine check-in, after months of increasingly lame sessions, sources who didn’t know they had the authority to do that confirmed.

“Listen, this is merely a prediction based on a combination of scientific evidence, careful analysis over several months of routine visits, and just a hunch, really,” said Therenspoon while rearranging the framed PhDs on their wall by order of how important they might look to strangers. “It’s never easy to break the news to someone that their life is patheticville and that there’s no reversing it, no matter how many haircuts they try, but it’s my medical responsibility to do so. That way, these total losers can plan to do everything they’ve always wanted, like watch someone go skydiving or binge ‘Law and Order: SVU’ one last time. You know, really live it up.”

Campbell Leggingsworth, the patient in question, was confident he could outlive the prognosis.

“My mom beat cancer and my dad reversed diabetes, so overcoming these sorts of death sentences kind of runs in the family,” said Leggingsworth while crossing off “try new Applebee’s jalapeño poppers” from his bucket list. “Honestly, all I said to my therapist was that I quit my very stable office job to become a full-time podcaster since I’m pretty sure I’m bound to become the Joe Rogan of ‘Saved By The Bell’ podcasts. That’s when she interrupted and told me to start canceling my auto-pay bills now. So bizarre. I mean, how is that a sign of my so-called downward spiral? Also, I think I’m going to get a new therapist.”

Experts weighed in on the therapist/patient relationship.

“There’s no one-size-fits-all approach to therapy, and this method proves that,” said psychology professor Taylor Conrad. “For instance, back in the 16th century it was standard practice to drill a tiny hole in someone’s skull to try to relieve depression. Yes, they inadvertently killed a bunch of patients in the process, but at least the depression was technically gone. Long story, short: no one really knows how to treat mental health shit long-term.”

Leggingsworth has since reportedly surpassed the 30-day prediction, and as a result had to give back all the money his family raised from the GoFundMe page they set up.

How To Cope With the Fact That You Waited in Line When You Could Have Just Walked To the Front To Pick Up Your Order

Posted on by John Danek

It’s 2021 and it’s about damn time we feel comfortable discussing our personal traumas. And speaking of 2021, we have yet another universal pain to add to our mental health discourse: waiting in line when you could have just walked up to the front to get your food.

It’s going to be okay. We’re here for you.

Let’s backtrack. So you decided to treat yourself by ordering one of your favorite meals. However, when you drove to the restaurant there was a line out the door! You didn’t want to annoy the busy staff by sliding right up against the customer in front, so you patiently waited in line. Traumatically, when you got to the front the cashier informed you that you didn’t need to waste 15 minutes waiting just to grab your grub.

Your day was ruined. Hell, maybe your week. You wondered where things went so wrong. Maybe you opted to wait out of an abundance of politeness. Or perhaps you feared the glares of those who think you’re trying to cut the line. Talk about a no-win situation. As His Holiness the Dalai Lama once said, “By rushing to the front, you might hurt others. But by standing in line, you always hurt yourself.” Eastern philosophy is usually ahead of America by a good 6 years.

When memories of cold burgers and judgmental eyes wake you up in the middle of the night, just remember this is hard for everyone. You’re not alone. You didn’t do anything wrong and in time no one is going to remember your faux pas. Well, except for you. But life is often about minimizing damage so you’ll probably make it through regardless. You will order again from that restaurant and you will remember their pickup policy. The sun will shine on you another day.

Being Empty For Year Somehow Made Reopened Venue Smell Worse

Posted on by Anna Walsh

SPRINGFIELD, Mass. — Staff and audience members at the newly reopened Cherry Pit reported a puzzling stench that may be as serious a health risk as the pandemic that forced its year-long closure.

“I was actually kind of excited to be back in the beer-soaked, sweatstained halls of the Cherry Pit, even a little scared that a year without shows would cause its unique charm to disappear. But Jesus Christ, this is not what I remember,” said longtime local concertgoer Tim Langevin, who arrived at the show with lofty expectations. “I’m not sure how anything could possibly smell worse than one hundred disgusting feet, a stale sweat/barf hybrid, and random farts, but this empty room did it. I almost went off somewhere to puke, but figured the bathroom’s smell might actually kill me.”

Veteran Cherry Pit bartender Keira Lopez was at a complete loss.

“When I first got here, of course I checked all the usual suspects: urinal cakes, the door guy who doesn’t wear deodorant, the bucket we dump all the skunked beer into. Turns out it’s just the whole place’s natural essence,” Lopez said. “My manager says we have to uphold the no re-entry policy tonight, but I think given the circumstances that doing that might be a human rights violation.”

Holly Baker of the Springfield Health and Human Services Department was dispatched to the venue after initial reports.

“We expect a certain standard of stagnation to occur in any closed-off area, especially one as generally disgusting as this place. But someone had left a milk carton propping open the back door when the venue first shut down, which means a steady stream of fresh air has been circulating in here this entire time,” a frustrated Baker said. “I’ve seen a lot in my career, but the level of odor here truly defies all logic, and frankly terrifies me. It may need to be treated as a biohazard and the building leveled, but I worry that the stench fumes may end up annihilating any passing birds overhead.”

At the time of publication, Hazmat suit-clad workers could be seen swabbing surfaces and people, but allowed the opening band to continue playing.