Captain Planet Now a Paid Consultant for ExxonMobil

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

HOUSTON — Famed environmental superhero and holographic android Captain Planet announced he would be accepting a position as a paid consultant for multinational oil and gas giant ExxonMobil, much to the chagrin of Planeteers worldwide.

“My adventures with the Planeteers were some of the best days of my quasi-life,” said Captain Planet, clad in bespoke cashmere Stuart Hughes suit. “Fighting Verminous Skumm and urban decay, battling Hoggish Greedly, being thrust into existence by the combined power rings of five ethnically varied teens. These are all cherished memories. But I realize now that I can do more good by working with the fine people at ExxonMobile. Their commitment to responsible oil-drilling and respect for the environment has inspired me. I sincerely believe that I can use my superhuman powers, cheerful advice, and innate knowledge of the location of oil deposits to help them work for a safe, clean and profitable world.”

Ted O’Brien, Vice-President of Public Relations at ExxonMobil, was thrilled with the Captain’s new role.

“Oh fuck yeah, it’s great to have CP on board,” O’Brien confided over a variety of Macallan scotch whiskys. “He’s credibility with a fucking sea-green mullet. All we need to do is trot him out in front of the cameras to say ‘THE POWER IS YOURS’ and we’re good as gold. He’s getting a fucking seven-figure salary, and really all he needs to do is exist. And who can blame him? He spent years fixing the fuckups of a bunch of teens that got in over their heads every time they tried to clean up a goddamn garbage dump, and for what? Just to be poofed away like a genie when they were done.”

“Huh,” O’Brien continued. “Do you think Cap can create coke with his powers? I mean, it comes from the planet, right?”

Wheeler, a former Planeteer, was greatly discouraged by his hero’s choice to be employed by one of the world’s biggest polluters.

“Fuck Captain Planet,” Wheeler said while handing out Greenpeace pamphlets. “I used to look up to that guy. Literally. He can fly. But he’s just become another sellout bozo, sucking on that corporate teat for a buck. At least I’m out here still trying to make a real difference. I haven’t seen Linka or Kwame or Gi or Ma-ti in years, but I’m still saving the world, one pamphlet at a time. Suchi the monkey is dead. It turns out monkeys don’t live long if you feed them human food.”

As of press time, Captain Planet was instructing his secretary to not take any calls from Gaia, Spirit of the Earth.

5 Troubling Signs My Cat Doesn’t Actually Appreciate The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

Studies show pets often take on the characteristics and habits of their owners. Okay, well if that’s true, then my cat Fruit Punch should appreciate the genius of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones a hell of a lot more. While Fruit Punch clearly respects the ska-punk pioneers, he just doesn’t seem to “get” The Bosstones like a true fan. I think he’s trying, but here are five troubling signs that my cat may not be the ska aficionado I was hoping he’d be when I adopted him and spray painted him checkered.

Fruit Punch Can’t Skank – It’s a habit of mine to play “The Impression That I Get” at least once an hour. The opening guitar riff that defined American third-wave ska, the brassy horns, Dickey Barrett’s raspy vocals; music simply doesn’t get better. But Fruit Punch refuses to dance! Sure, cat knees don’t exactly bend in a way that facilitates skanking, so he’s off the hook there. But this is certainly not a good sign.

Fruit Punch Absolutely Refuses to Acknowledge Ska’s Jamaican Roots – A lot of people talk to their pets, but I refuse to demean Fruit Punch with baby talk. No, when I talk to my cat, it’s to engage in an exploration of ska from its origins in Jamaica to its artistic apex in the Bosstones. But does Fruit Punch ever contribute a goddamn thing? No, he just licks his butt.

Fruit Punch Isn’t a Two-Tone Cat – He’s just a big-ass ginger. Maybe that shit flies in hardcore, but that’s not ska at all. Also, in 2019, I bought tickets to see The Bosstones. Front row center. Close enough to see sax player Johnny Vegas’ spit leak out of that righteous horn. I was so excited to take Fruit Punch, hoping the experience would get him closer to my level. And what did he do? Buried the tickets in his litter box and hissed when I got near it.

Fruit Punch Doesn’t Seem to like The Old Stuff – One of the strongest indications that Fruit Punch doesn’t appreciate The Bosstones was last week, when I started to play their seminal 1993 album “Don’t Know How to Party.” Well, I guess Fruit Punch only likes the hits because the second I played some of the old stuff, his eyes glowed red and the building began to shake. As soon as I took the record off the player, he went right back to chasing a fly.

Fruit Punch Likes Other Bands Way More – Before you go telling me that cats just aren’t that into specific bands, I know for a fact Fruit Punch is immune to that cat stereotype. For instance, Fruit Punch speaks to me in my dreams, murmuring in a guttural tone that The Specials are a superior band. At least, I think they’re dreams. Though once I woke to find a vintage copy of “Too Much Too Young – The Special A.K.A. Live!” EP on my pillow next to a dead mouse that was dressed exactly like the dancing guy.

In the end, I just have to accept that Fruit Punch might not ever really dig The Bosstones like I do. At least he’s better than my other cat, Baja Blast, who’s waaaaaay too into The Cherry Poppin’ Daddies.

Metalhead, Canadian Argue Viciously Over Cultural Origins of Denim Vests

Posted on by Nick Ortolani

SASKATOON — Violence nearly erupted following an argument between a local Canadian and a visiting metalhead over the cultural origins of the denim vest, moderately polite onlookers confirmed.

“These goddamn canucks ain’t got no respect for my culture!” spat Lester Tudduck, former lead singer of Detroit thrash outfit Premature Decapitation. “My parents immigrated to Michigan all the way from Tennessee to escape the country music regime with nothing but the jeans on their asses and the jeans on their backs. When times got rough, they ate the sleeves off their jean jackets, and the denim vest was born. The increased aerodynamics led to faster guitar playing and the foundation of metal. Then I hear this moose fucker sayin’ it should be the official garment of Saskatchewan. I didn’t even know they had modern clothes up here.”

Witnesses on the scene described the altercation as harrowing, and police were called when Tudduck used the D word.

“I just assumed he had a gun,” recounted Bianca Thompson, the generic Canadian in question. “All Americans get a gun when they graduate middle school, right? I can’t believe it escalated this far. Everyone knows denim tops are as Canadian as poutine or clocks with only ten numbers. You’ve heard of a Canadian tuxedo, right? Well a denim vest and jeans is Canadian morning dress. And what is this heavy metal, eh? Is that a new kind of rock and roll? We just got The Kinks up here, so we may be a bit behind. I’m not sure about those distorted guitars. They sound…rude.”

Royal Canadian Mounted Police are concerned with the uptick in altercations between Canadian citizens and American musical refugees.

“There’s been a surge of them hopping the border,” admitted RCMP Officer Lance LeChuck. “They’re drawn to our way of life, since it most resembles the American midwest in 1982. But as they come over they bring crime, violence, most of them don’t even speak the language. We’d consider them asylum seekers, but we’re not sure from what. I tried to bring this up to my superior officer, but he’s a literal horse.”

At press time, Tudduck was refusing to field questions regarding his dreadlocks.

Roommate Subtly, Ominously Sniffs Finger Before Grabbing Fistful From Popcorn Bowl

Posted on by John Danek

DENVER — Local man Ian Vernor horrified his roommates yesterday by inauspiciously sniffing his pointer and middle fingers, recoiling in muted disgust, then thrusting his hand into a communal bowl of popcorn, sickened roommates reported.

“I know Ian thought I wouldn’t notice, but I saw the quick raise of the hand just in front of his upper lip,” recounted roommate Danny Alvarez, who regularly douses communal areas of the apartment with Lysol. “He jerked his head back slightly, blinked a few times in rapid succession, and then made a sound like he had just been punched in the stomach — that finger has explored truly demonic regions. But before I could rip the bowl away, he was wrist-deep in popcorn I just microwaved. To make matters worse, he licked the finger after the first grab. If it weren’t for Coronavirus, I would’ve moved out months ago.”

Vernor has long terrorized those around him with his oblivious, revolting habits.

“I live with a bunch of Type-A germaphobe wackos who think if you drop raw chicken on the floor, you’ll die if you don’t clean it. So what if I sniff my finger? Just because it kinda stinks doesn’t mean it’s like, dirty,” declared Vernor while breathing loudly and fervently through his mouth. “One of them even had a ‘serious’ talk with me about adjusting my ballsack in front of his girlfriend. It’s like, dude, if you feel so threatened, maybe you need to have this talk with your girlfriend and her wandering eyes. I can’t help that I exude sexuality.”

A psychologist who specializes in roommate disagreements offered little advice for those dealing with a difficult, repulsive roommate situation.

“Some people are just disgusting slobs and will never, ever change, despite how much they push others away,” explained Dr. Carly Vitek. “I attempt to mediate roommate conflicts, but usually the best answer is to whisper, ‘MOVE. JUST MOVE OUT,’ to the clean roommate while the oaf roommate is distracted by picking his or her nose.”

All residents were evacuated later in the evening by Vernor’s ever-worsening flatulence, which triggered the apartment’s carbon monoxide detector.

Cop on “Jeopardy!” Shoots at Daily Double Laser Sound

Posted on by Dan Luberto

STUDIO CITY, Calif. — Popular game show “Jeopardy!” ceased filming mid-episode last week when contestant and off-duty police officer Jamie Boyd shot up the studio after being startled by the Daily Double laser sound effect.

“Everyone just hit the floor. It was terrifying. It gave me flashbacks to my time in Iraq,” said Jennifer Myers, a United States Army Veteran who was winning at the time of Boyd’s outburst. “Here I was thinking I could be the first female veteran to win ‘Jeopardy!’ But of course this fucking cop can’t go twenty minutes without shooting her fucking gun.”

Production of “Jeopardy!” has been greatly affected by the loss of longtime host Alex Trebek and the COVID-19 pandemic, with Boyd’s actions only adding to the show’s recent challenges.

“We were on the fence about having a cop on the show, and to be honest she didn’t even come close to passing the basic test we use for the kid’s tournament, but we figured we’d give the one cop who applied and almost spelled her name right a chance,” said Mike Richards, longtime producer of “Jeopardy!” “We should’ve known this was a bad idea when she showed up in full SWAT gear instead of a navy blue shirt like all the firefighters and EMTs did.”

The Daily Double sound effect is one of the most iconic sounds in the history of TV game shows, playing approximately three times every episode of a show that has consistently aired Monday-Friday for almost 40 years, making Boyd’s startled shooting spree which she later attempted to justify even more surprising.

“How was I supposed to know? Being a contestant on ‘Jeopardy!’ is a hard job. You don’t understand,” said Boyd. “In the heat of the moment, it’s hard to distinguish what’s going on. Yes, it seems like I’m just on a soundstage and there’s cameras and bright lights, and sound effects are all part of it, but if you were in my shoes you would have done the same thing. When I leave the house every morning I can never be sure I’m going to make it back, because this job is so unpredictable, and because I lose my keys almost every day.”

At press time, Boyd was shooting at the “Wheel of Fortune” wheel because it was “acting erratically.”

Why the 1st Rule of Fight Club Should Actually Be: “Have Fun”

Posted on by Parker Newman

The term “toxic masculinity” gets tossed around pretty casually these days but, for good reason. We are living in a society where men have to bottle their emotions to the point where the only release available is beating each other up in a dive bar’s basement. As therapeutic as that can be, what good is it if you can’t share your experience with other emasculated men trapped in an endless cycle of violence?

Did you know that if you mix equal parts shirtless men, orange juice concentrate, and fun into a basement, you can make friends? Well, I do, and I’m getting a little tired of not talking about it.

I get that no one wants Fight Club to go mainstream, but no talking about it? At all? I just don’t see why “Don’t talk about Fight Club” is the number one rule. After all, it is the second rule of Fight Club as well, and it is just a bit redundant. Not only that, but we are also not talking about Project Mayhem. I’m just scared that I am going to have almost nothing to talk about at this rate. I mean, isn’t keeping our emotions bottled up kind of why we all joined Fight Club in the first place?

Another concern I have: we are creating a really unhealthy environment. Unfortunately, we live in a culture where Fight Club is all about winning, instead of just being active and having fun moving our bodies. Diet culture and capitalism have made it almost impossible to enjoy the rush of punching someone to the point where they are unrecognizable. Now it is only a competitive environment where everyone is trying to always out-perform each other.

Hustle culture is to blame, when you get right down to it. When Tyler Durden started this, he didn’t even fight other people. Probably because he knew that hitting other guys would only cause people to one-up each other. Sure, Fight Club can get a little out of hand here and there, but at the end of the day, “His name is Robert Paulson,” and we should try our best to remember that.

Fight Club isn’t just about half-naked brawls or domestic terrorism. It is about doing both of those things, while having fun. Call it whatever you want, but to me it will always be Fun Club first and foremost.

Local Creep in Limited Capacity Venue Somehow Still Just Needs to Squeeze by You Lovely Ladies Real Quick

Posted on by Krissy Howard

RIDGEWOOD, N.Y. — Local creep Lance Weems narrowly squeezed past two women at a limited capacity venue last night despite having plenty of walking room to go around them, confirmed sources who want to have a word with this guy.

“First show since the shutdown last year, and already some creep in a pageboy hat has his hand on my hip while he squeezes by me and avoids eye contact like his life depends on it,” said Brooklyn resident Natalia Guerra. “I’ve kind of come to expect these things, but this place is fucking mostly empty — there’s like, 12 people here. But I guess if the most direct route to the bathroom is between two women standing six feet apart and not any of the 30 square feet of empty space around them, then so be it. I think I don’t actually miss shows.”

Additional attendees who found themselves in close proximity to Weems despite not needing to be whatsoever reported similar experiences.

“Doors had been open two minutes when this guy came up to the bar to order a drink. When I asked him what I could get him, he just said, ‘Surprise me,’ so I knew this situation was gonna be irritating, at best,” recalled bartender on duty Audra Moser. “When I handed him his watered down rum and root beer, he kinda pulled me in so he could ask me what he owed me right in my ear. I could see if this was a slammed Friday night two years ago, but I could hear the couple by the pinball machine across the venue talking about remembering to pick up cat food on the way home. How are we deciding who makes the 33% cut, anway?”

Despite overwhelming criticism from essentially every person who’s ever crossed paths with him, Weems defended his moves.

“I think all women are strong, beautiful goddesses, and I do my part to show them how much I appreciate them by standing as close to them as humanly possible for as long as they’ll allow it and admiring their tattoos with my hands,” he explained. “Plus, these girls are my scene sisters, so sometimes I feel like it’s my duty to protect them… which is why I keep such a close eye on, and physical proximity to, any of the ones who look in my direction for one second.”

“If that’s wrong, which I’m told it is often, then I don’t wanna be right,” he added. “I’m just not like other guys, I guess.”

Weems was later seen calling every woman who didn’t accept his offer to walk them home a “bitch.”

No One’s Leaving This Venue Until This Audience Figures out How to Clap in 5/4 Time

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

Everybody just be cool, okay?! The doors are locked and chained from the outside, and nobody is leaving this blackbox venue until you all get your shit together and successfully clap on a 5/4 time signature. We gave you several opportunities to figure it out earlier in the set, but clearly we need to implement some gun-toting tough love to get everyone on tempo.

If it helps, I came up with a mnemonic device: 5/4 is just five quarter beats. And right now I have an Ak 5 assault rifle locked, loaded, and pointed in your goddamn faces. See? It’s easy. Just clap along to the beat. Why are you crying? This isn’t one of our sad songs.

We’re not an unreasonable band. All we require is that you clap on every third quarter note for the entire 19-minute song. Do you know how hard it is to write a catchy song outside of 4/4 time? It’s about a million times harder than clapping along to a basic-ass beat, especially when you have a bullet in your head. Oh, you’re also gonna want to keep in mind that the breakdown around the 8 minute mark switches to 7/8 time signature. Do that too and you’re free to go.

But please, stop making this so hard on yourselves. It’s almost like you want me to hurt you or something. Okay, from the top. Everyone, keep the beat as if your life depends on it because it literally does.

Oh fuck, the cops are outside. And that pig on the megaphone is definitely going to throw off your rhythm. These cops just don’t care about the lives of the people they serve, huh?

All I ever wanted was an audience that understood odd time signatures. If it’s a crime to be a perfectionist who illegally procured an assault rifle to hold dozens of people hostage, then lock me up. Figuratively, obviously. This isn’t a confession. Stop recording this on your cell phones or I’ll shoot out the air conditioning unit. Actually wait, you think the cop’s have a metronome function on that megaphone?

Alright, let’s try this one more time. 1 and 2 and 3 and…

Goddammit, really?! I get that some of you are exhausted from fear but your timing is still shit. And you all keep speeding up. Ugh. Tell the cops to send in our ransom in the form of pizza and coffee. It’s gonna be a long night.

Meaning Behind New Tattoo Revealed to Be Decent Tax Return

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

PROVIDENCE, R.I. — Local tattoo enthusiast Ben Drury admitted that the meaning behind a large tattoo of a viking skeleton throwing a fireball currently being tattooed on his wrist and hand was nothing more than a large tax return, financial records confirmed.

“People always want you to have an involved story behind each and every tattoo, but all of my tattoos exist simply because I had expendable income,” said Drury while pretending a dry wipe of the tattoo didn’t feel like death was imminent. “I have a huge back piece of a snake fighting a bear and it’s not because I like snakes or bears. I can’t even see the tattoo, so I could care less what’s actually back there. I just wanted it to look badass, and I only have it because I got a $2,500 settlement when I was injured on a public bus. So all that tattoo means is simply: don’t ride the bus during a snowstorm.”

Art Freek tattoo artist Michaela Lussier said she has no interest in learning if there is a deeper meaning to the tattoos she does.

“I’m not part of a reality show where every tattoo needs a complex backstory that honors a person’s grandmother. Each tattoo I do means one thing and one thing only: I can continue to pay my rent and eat food for another day,” said Lussier. “When I first started tattooing, I cared a lot more than I do now. I wanted to understand my clients’ motivations. But you can only tattoo so many Bible verses before you realize that none of this actually matters, and that people only want tattoos to look cool and to talk about some boring story about when they had cancer or something.”

American tattoo historian Martin Dembly said that tattoos used to mean something at one point.

“Tattooing has been around for a long time, but in America, having a tattoo usually meant you were an outcast in society,” said Dembly. “A lot of servicemen disenchanted by war would get tattoos to commemorate their experience, and those tattoos made you part of a fraternity. Now, if you don’t have a tattoo you look like a crazy conservative cult member. 18-year-olds are basically required to get face tattoos to be taken seriously on Tik Tok.”

Providing further comment, Drury later admitted that the meaning behind his new eyebrow piercing was that he lost a bet.

I’m Choosing to Have a Premature Birth Because There’s No Way I’m Raising a Libra

Posted on by Rob Steinberg

As a Capricorn, there are few things I can’t stand as much as Libras. They are emotionally detached, self-pitying pacifists. The stars have chosen to make our personalities just not line up. When my doctor told me my next expecting child was due in Libra season, I panicked.

If my child grows up a Libra, that would entail an indecisive life. There’s no way I’m paying for multiple years of college just because they can’t decide on a major.

If I could, I’d keep my newest baby inside of me for an extra few weeks until they come out a Scorpio. A real one of course, none of that cusp bullshit. Scorpios and I have a long history of getting along. Supposedly you can’t keep babies from birthing that long, so I’ve decided to do the next best thing: give my child a premature birth.

My doctor advised against it, which is such a Taurus thing for her to say. However unlike a Libra, I actually fight for what I want, and that’s to avoid turning my child into one of those emotionally unavailable narcissists. I have since been looking into internet forums for any answers. The forums have given me great induced labor tips such as exercises, eating spicy foods, even just taking bumpy car rides in case it helps jostle them out.

This is my first baby, and I want nothing to go wrong. I love my baby and can’t think of a worse way to start out one’s life than knowing that you are fated to a “let’s get along with everybody” outlook. I only have a few months left before time’s up so I need to hurry.

If any of you readers have suggestions for how to rush a birth, please email me and let me know. We’re getting closer and closer to Libra season and all these dune buggy rides aren’t doing the trick.