Acoustic Performer at Vaccination Site Considered Worse than Outbreak

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

LOS ANGELES — Acoustic guitarist Harry “Wild Child” Kearns caused a mass evacuation from a local vaccine site with his terrible acoustic renditions of pop hits from the early aughts, confirmed winded sources after running as far away as their legs could take them.

“As soon as I lined up I could hear some clown playing a cover of ‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna and I thought to myself, ‘I’d rather be on a ventilator than listen to this guy for the next 40 minutes,’” said Angelo Cortez. “I know that each day I go without being vaccinated I risk getting the virus and infecting my family. But fuck, the guy was doing this little shimmy when he sang and I wanted to fight him so goddamn bad. It was best that I got out of there.”

Kearns seemed ambivalent to the fact that he had driven away hundreds of people who have waited over a year to be vaccinated.

“I think it took a little time for people to warm up to me, but by the fourth or fifth time I played ‘Hollaback Girl,’ I could feel the crowd starting to come alive. One guy on a motorcycle liked it so much that he pulled up right next to me and revved his engine for a few minutes. Everyone started cheering, and it was nice to bring smiles to faces,” said the terrible musician who is universally hated. “One woman had tears in her eyes and begged me to stop playing. She was so overwhelmed by my music that she couldn’t listen for another minute. Fan interactions like that are what keep me motivated to share my gift.”

The country’s leading virologist, Dr. Anthony Fauci, asked city governments to ban musical acts from playing at vaccine centers

“I’ve looked at the data and it’s jarring to see how many Americans would rather die than be forced to listen to a jam band for 40 minutes,” said Dr. Fauci. “I’m calling on local officials to put a complete and total ban on musical instruments within 5,000 feet of any vaccination sites. Just one person with a keyboard and the delusional idea that ‘they need to share their gift’ could cause a fourth or even fifth wave of the virus if people refuse to get vaccinated for risk of being exposed to the open mic nature of the performances.”

At press time, a SWAT team was seen taking an improv troupe who planned on performing outside a vaccine center into custody.

Why Hire a Hitman From the Dark Web for $10,000 When I Can Just Call the Cops for Free?

Posted on by Ken Taro

My neighbor has a lawn gnome whose shadow lands on my property. Needless to say, I’ve been researching hitmen on the dark web for the last few hours. Unfortunately, everyone is so expensive! We’re talking, like, $10,000 for one human life. Overpriced much? Well, you know what just dawned on me? I don’t need to break my wallet. All I need to do is break out my phone. Why spend $10,000 on a professional hitman when the police are only a call away, and are clearly happy to do your dirty work for free?

The obvious choice is to outsource the job. For ten grand, I could get a highly trained professional assassin. But for the cost of just one phone call, I can get a poorly-trained “peacekeeper,” which is apparently just as effective for getting this kind of job done.

Ugh. But I’ve already done so much work. I had to download Tor, scour the Hidden Wiki for leads, and check at least 3 references for a reputable killer. Sure, I’d like to pay top dollar to fly a mid-to-top tier killer, but why do that when there’s a perfectly good free alternative at your local precinct?

As far as my specific situation is concerned, my neighbor is a white guy, so I will have to put in a little work. Thankfully, he has a ponytail, which should help my case a little bit. I’m going to put a Black Lives Matter sign in his yard next to the garage that I’ll write “Fuck 12” on. I will also replace his mailbox with a dead pig wearing an “ACAB” shirt. On my property, I bought a Thin Blue Line flag that’s the same size as the front porch. I plan to make a mural of Donald Trump getting a blowjob from an eagle while he tea-bags Joe Biden. For the finishing touch, I will paint the hood of my Mercedes white. Subtle, but effective.

Afterward, I will thank the officers for their service, and then my yard will finally be free of that goddamn gnome’s shadow.

Cash-Strapped Dropkick Murphys Insist Arbor Day Also Their Thing

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

BOSTON — An allegedly cash-poor Dropkick Murphys irked fans by announcing that Arbor Day has always been one of “their things” in what was “definitely not” a crass attempt to extend the band’s busy season beyond mid-March.

“Alright, it’s time I address the ugly rumors that our so-called sudden interest in Arbor Day is somehow related to my youngest son needing braces, or my wife wanting to take the family to Disney World over Thanksgiving. But in reality, this band has always been about our working-class Irish American roots, and our admiration and respect for arborists,” explained bassist Ken Casey. “Now, I’m not saying the only way to be a true fan of the band is to purchase an Arbor Day 2021 shirt from our online store, view our Arbor Day livestream, and order a Dropkick Murphys-branded oak seedling. But I am saying that all our most hardcore fans will be doing exactly that.”

Even longtime supporter Dylan McMurphy admitted that the band’s sudden commercialization of the environmentalist holiday seemed like a cash grab.

“I love the group, so I’m buying whatever they’re selling, but even I rolled my eyes at the ham-fisted way they tried to claim their classic tunes were inspired by trees. I mean, just because you mention a wooden leg in ‘Shipping Up to Boston’ doesn’t make the song all about the ‘many wonderful uses of wood,’” said McMurphy while finishing off a limited edition Sam Adams x Dropkick Murphys Arbor Day Stout. “I thought that would be the worst of it. But then the band all put on tree costumes and performed a 20-minute morality play about the dangers of ignoring root rot.”

Despite the backlash, music historian Dr. Darlene Couch claimed that there is precedent for bands engaging in similar “holiday-themed malarky.”

“While certainly pathetic, it’s only natural for Dropkick Murphys, who are so associated with St. Patrick’s Day, to want to branch out. But it almost never works. One needs only to look at Bobby ‘Boris’ Picketts’ ‘A Very Wolfman Christmas’ or Michael Buble’s bizarre ‘Victory over Japan Day’ anthem,” said Couch. “And the less said about The Cramps’ ill-conceived Yom Kippur album ‘Songs the Moel Taught Us,’ the better.”

At press time, the Dropkick Murphys were allegedly contemplating releasing a Guy Fawkes Day concept album in November, to help pay for Christmas gifts.

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We Visit This Legendary Punk Bar Because Our Credit Card Was Stolen and That’s Where All the Charges Were From

Posted on by Patrick Crooks

Black Flag, Bad Brains, Fugazi, and just about every other legendary punk band has played this DC bar since its opening in 1980. Not to mention the decades of local scenes built around this punk rock hotspot. Around the district, this temple to alternative music and culture is arguably on par with CBGB or Gilman. But that’s not why we’re here. We’re here because our credit card was stolen and all the charges came from this dive. Well, we’re here, so where the fuck is our card?!

No longer residing at its original location, this counterculture landmark has since moved to a larger — but still intimate — space that has withstood the test of time. The acts and the venue itself may have gotten bigger, but it remains a primary venue for undiscovered punk acts to play. We mean, it must. The Drive-By Truckers also played here, and we highly doubt they were the ones who stole our card and charged a shit-ton of $6.66 drink specials called ‘Satan’s Colonoscopy’ to it.

From music to comedy to dance parties, this legendary bar has something for everyone. Even fucking thieves, apparently. We did run into some people we know. All our crust punk buddies were here. There was Stealin’ Joe, Swindlin’ Frank, Thievin’ Trish, and of course Rob. After saying hello and petting a few pitbulls, we made small talk with the bartender while she half-assed looking around for the card.

All told, the place wasn’t bad. We didn’t find our card, but it’s cool because Swindlin’ Frank got us a couple rounds. Hell, he was buying for everyone that night. He was spending money like he stole it. We don’t recall much else, but we sure as shit remember that we found a sick new spot to drink. Now, has anyone seen our wallet?

Hardcore Guy’s and Metal Guy’s Eyes Meet as They Both Yell “Go!” While At The Gates Plays

Posted on by Ryan Danley

BALTIMORE — Hardcore music aficionado Steve Settler and metalhead Jasyn Moore shared a tender moment when they simultaneously yelled “Go!” while listening to “Slaughter of the Soul” over the PA at a local dive bar, wistful sources confirmed.

“I thought it was going to be a pretty shitty time when my friend dragged me out to this metalhead bar on a Thursday night. The place was filled with a bunch of corny dudes with tribal tattoos and long hair yelling stupid shit like ‘Fuck yeah, Ozzy rules’ at each other. They had filled the satellite jukebox with all their wizard and wanker guitar solo shit and it was driving me insane,” said Settler. “Then, something magical happened. That sweet opening to ‘Slaughter Of The Soul’ started, and right at that pinnacle moment, I saw Jasyn from across the room. We both shot our hands in the air. ‘GO!’ Go indeed, my friend.”

While bar patrons were amazed to see a connection between the unlikely pair, no one was more surprised than Moore himself.

“When I saw this dude walk in with his Integrity shirt I figured he was about to start trouble. But after our moment, I realized how much society has manufactured tribal prejudice. And it’s not only in music genres. Cognitive bias distorts my entire worldview. I’m now free to hang with Steve five times a week,” said a starry-eyed Moore. “Our relationship isn’t perfect. He’s straight edge and I’m drunk every single day. He doesn’t like D&D and I don’t want to train Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, but we make this friendship work. Most importantly, we learn from each other. Thank you so much, At The Gates.”

Baltimore Hard Music scene chairman Leonard Backlin hopes this is a sign of similar allegiances to come in the future.

“I have spent years trying to find common ground between these two of the larger hard music subcultures. I would argue that the damn guitar riffs are basically the same, so they should be natural friends. But I was met with satanic mumbo jumbo and a haymaker punch. Some things you can’t force,” said Backlin. “To see this happen organically warms my soul. I’m now randomly walking into spots and playing At The Gates. Next week I’m going to try some later-era Throwdown. I’m excited to see how that goes.”

Settler and Moore were unavailable for further comment, as they were busy enjoying an espresso at a cat cafe.

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5 Times I Failed to Pump Up a Jam

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

I consider myself a pretty accomplished dude. Though I must confess that many times in my life, I have been called upon to pump up a jam and, in several of those circumstances, I have failed. No less than five times in my life, I was thrust into the position where I could, nay, must pump up a jam yet was unable to do so.

Heed my words and prepare yourself, lest you wind up like me: an insufficient jam-pumper.

Jam #1: It was 2002 and I was at my best friend’s wedding. It was a destination affair in Hawaii, and the day could not have been more beautiful. My buddy James looked great in his khakis and ceremonial lei, while his new bride, Angela, was the happiest I’d ever seen her. Happy, that is, until we all got to the dance floor. Angela’s formerly estranged father had just given a moving speech affirming his bond with his daughter and new son-in-law, when the DJ hit “Play That Funky Music” by Wild Cherry. Emboldened by champagne, I decided this was my moment to shine. I took the center of the floor and prepared to pump up that jam, only to immediately slip, fall, and puke champagne on the maid of honor, thus utterly failing to pump up the jam. James and I have not spoken since.

Jam #2: The next time was in ’06. I was attending a ballgame of my beloved Chicago Cubs against our hated rivals, the St. Louis Cardinals. While buying the first of my usual ten beers per inning, I was informed that I had won a contest to throw out the game’s first pitch! Thrilled, I strode to the mound, full of hastily drunk Bud Light. As the opening beats of John Fogerty’s “Centerfield”  began to play, I decided to ham it up a bit and pump up that jam. Needless to say, I immediately threw out my shoulder attempting to fist pump, tripped over the mound, and puked Bud Light on a third base coach. I am no longer welcome in Wrigley Field or the greater Wrigleyville area.

Jam #3: I don’t want to get too much into this one, but in 2010 I had a few brandies and found myself at the bar mitzvah of Toby Herschlag. Long story short, after some friendly kvetching, I shoved Toby out of the way to attempt the dance from Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance.” I fell over at the hip-thrust part and puked on poor little Toby. The Herschlags pressed charges soon after that, but like, come on Toby. You’re a man now. Stop letting mommy and daddy fight your battles. Anyway, jam totally un-pumped.

Jam #4: July 14, 2015, I achieved a lifelong dream and got tickets to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at Chicago’s United Center. I was having the time of my life, slamming both vodka and people smaller than me, and found myself at the front of the crowd. Suddenly, the Boss himself was pulling me on stage! “Dancing in the Dark” began to play, but as I prepared to pump up that jam with some Courtney Cox moves, I tripped on a cord, puked on some wires, short-circuited the entire concert set up, and electrocuted Little Steven. While it was very rock and roll, it was most certainly not a jam properly pumped up.

Jam #5: My latest jam-related failure happened just this year, and I’ll make this brief because I’m still processing. After a night of working through a case of Michelob Ultra on my couch, I had a heart attack. After passing through a dark tunnel towards a bright light, I found myself in Heaven, which it turns out is a massive club where angels dance with the righteous from all of history and God Himself DJs from an elevated platform. And he totally does that thing where he holds just one of the headphones to his ear, by the way. God pointed to me and kicked on the most heavenly jam ever conceived, perfect to pump up in every way. So I immediately fell over, puked on Joan of Arc’s shoes, and got sent back to Earth, forbidden from ever again crossing over into Heaven.

I still live in hope that someday I may pump up a jam and redeem myself, but I admit if I had the chance right now, the amount of sangria I’ve had today wouldn’t make it likely.

Police Union Captain Collectively Bargains for 45 More Unpunished Murders Per Year

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

CHICAGO — The embattled President of Fraternal Order of Police Lodge 7, John Cattanzara, sought to negotiate for police officers to receive 45 more murders per year which would result in no charges for the offending officer, disgusted sources confirm.

“The brave men and women who protect this city are under attack. They simply cannot do their jobs if they are worried that they might get put on desk duty, or worse, unpaid leave, every time they shoot someone they feel looks suspicious, or is holding a set of keys or something,” said Cattanzara while finishing off two Chicago-style hot dogs simultaneously. “I currently have officers who are so scared to fire their weapons that they wait an entire .5 seconds before unleashing hellfire. We cannot operate under these conditions. Our current contract allows for 100 unpunished officer-involved killings a year, and that number needs to be raised to reflect how trigger happy the members of our current police force are.”

Traumatized citizens across the city were horrified by the latest police union demand.

“The cops are already the most dangerous gang in our city. They wonder why we run from them whenever they roll up. It’s because we know they are heavily armed and that even if they shoot us at point-blank range with our hands over our head it won’t be ruled a homicide,” said community activist Erika Price. “We tried to enact new policies that gave officers de-escalation techniques they could use, but when it was brought to the police union the members laughed so hard that one of them had to be taken away in an ambulance. Then we all got charged with assault on an officer for making the suggestion.”

Watchdog groups across the country say that police unions are trying to enact similar policies in other major cities.

“In Los Angeles, the police union is trying to negotiate their contract so officers are allowed to detain anyone with tattoos and then make them participate in underground fight clubs all over the city,” said Blue Monitor president Abbi Howland. “And in Boston, they have already enacted a policy that says cops are allowed to beat the shit out of anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to use sunscreen in February.”

The Chicago police union is also adding new language into their contract that would allow officers to consider any Black and brown citizens over the age of one year to be treated as armed and dangerous adults.

Top 5 Songs You Were Excited To Show Your Boyfriend Until He Kept Talking During Them

Posted on by Heather Cook

A relationship is a lot like a mixtape. You put a ton of time and effort into making something wonderful to share with the love of your life and, right in the middle of your favorite part, they say something so fucking infuriating that you are no longer interested in sharing it with them.

Let’s take a listen to five songs you were excited to show your boyfriend until he ran his dumbass mouth. By the way, these are just examples, and by no means reflect any real people or relationships.

“Let’s Get Lost” by Elliott Smith – It’s you and your boyfriend Brendan’s one-year anniversary, and you thought it would be romantic to give him a mixtape of endearing songs. You thought wrong! What should have been a wonderful moment in the park was hijacked by Brendan’s monologue on the “ever-expanding landscape of sixth wave emo.” Sixth wave emo? Pretty sure he just made that up. You try to ask him but he relentlessly keeps talking over you.

“Two Slow Dancers” by Mitski – Fast forward a few days after the anniversary fiasco and you’re feeling blue because you’re living in a dumpster-fire pandemic and your boyfriend Brendan utterly sucks. You decide to be vulnerable with Brendan by showing him your go-to sad girl jam, but the intimate moment you imagined is crushed by his commentary on how he thinks Mitski is an industry plant. Your already sad moment just got a whole lot sadder, thanks to Brendan’s sexist blasphemy.

“A Better Place, a Better Time” by Streetlight Manifesto – Quarantining in your childhood home has you feeling super sentimental for your early skater days in high school. You want to indulge the nostalgia by sharing a ska-punk classic with your boyfriend Brendan, but he only sees this as an opportunity to flex his useless trivia. Because what’s sexier than your boyfriend giving you a history lesson on Victory Records? Truly every girl’s wet dream, at least according to Tony Brummel.

“Tuesday Moon” by Neutral Milk Hotel – You thought it would be sweet to show your boyfriend a deep cut song by one of your shared favorite bands, but honey, you’re digging your own grave. Brace yourself for Brendan’s pretentious theorizing on the Neutral Milk Hotel hiatus! And if that isn’t attractive enough, he will even try to embarrass you by quizzing you on the names of their unreleased demos. At this point, you should really know better than to show him any music at all.

“Don’t Need You” by Bikini Kill – You’ve had enough. You’re so fed up with Brendan’s pompous rants that it’s beyond time to dump him. You play Bikini Kill on the car stereo to fuel yourself with riot grrrl adrenaline before you dump his poser ass, but he doesn’t even notice you’re breaking up with him because he’s too busy trying to explain the complicated relationship between Kathleen Hanna and Kurt Cobain. Boy, bye!

Neighbors Call to Complain About Eddie Vedder Howling at Moon Again

Posted on by Patrick Crooks

SEATTLE — Seattle Police responded to a noise complaint at the home of Pearl Jam frontman Eddie Vedder last night after neighbors complained he was once again howling at the moon from his roof.

“I’m fed up with this shit happening night after goddamn night,” said exasperated neighbor Lisa Weinstein. “I’ve done everything to try and avoid involving the authorities, but I’ve gone over there to address him about this weekly and it’s still happening. Every fucking night, I’m jolted out of bed by him howling ‘Even Flow’ at the top of his lungs like some kind of goddamn feral dog. As a Pearl Jam fan, I was excited about living next to him… but if I’d known what I’d be putting up with, I’d have told the realtor to shove the deed up his ass.”

The Vedder household expressed sympathy for their neighbors and said they were doing everything possible to fix the situation.

“I understand their frustration, and I… Eddie! Get back in the fucking house. I’m not telling you again,” said Vedder’s wife Jill McCormick while chasing the frontman around the front yard after he got loose again.

“I’m at my wits end with this,” she confided after confining Vedder back inside. “I have to get up to let him out every night, and he promises me he’s not going to scream ‘Yellow Ledbetter’ from the roof… but each night, I’m out there freezing my goddamn ass off to get him back inside before the neighbors call the cops. I’ve tried everything from crate training to sticking his head in a bucket of water. If this doesn’t work, I’m going to have to get his vocal cords snipped.”

For his part, Vedder insisted that this was a part of his nightly ritual to communicate his well-being with Pearl Jam fans in the Seattle area.

“What people don’t understand is I have to do this, for the sake of all Pearl Jam fans out there,” said an apologetic Vedder. “With Cobain, Staley, and Cornell gone, I’m the last of the Seattle frontmen, and I know grunge fans need the reassurance that I’m doing alright. I feel like the internet lacks the personal touch, and it’s been hard to get out and about with the pandemic, so I figure singing ‘Alive’ from my roof on a moonlit night is the best way to do it.”

McCormick is reportedly looking to start a support group with the families of Scott Stapp and Chad Kroeger.

Stoned Kevin Smith Still Answering First Question Four Hours into Q and A

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

DELRAY BEACH, Fla. — Stoned-out-of-his-gourd movie director and podcaster Kevin Smith is still answering the first question of a Q and A nearly four hours after it was asked, and is refusing to let anyone leave the venue until he’s finished.

“The Q and A hadn’t even really started. He walked on stage and a theater employee asked if he had enough water, and Kev screamed ‘Okay, man’ and just went off. He’s been talking so long I’m not even sure what day it is anymore,” said attendee Kimora Fischer while checking to see if she could escape through a fire exit without setting off an alarm. “To be honest, I only know Kevin as the ‘Clerks’ guy, so at first I thought this is just what he does. At one point he mentioned the CW show ‘The Flash’ and then cried for ten minutes and I thought that was it. But then he recovered and started telling stories about Bruce Willis again.”

Smith’s co-host for the evening, Jason Mewes, explained that although somewhat alarming, the behavior was not atypical.

“A former junkie can always spot one of our own. Kev is clearly on a bender right now. Not the weed, that shit’s not addicting. I’m talking about speaking on stage,” said Mewes while sneaking back to the green room to film a Twitch stream. “It’s best to let him get it out of his system. Besides, it makes my job easy as hell. As long as I’m around when he needs me to scream ‘snootchie bootchies’ or tuck my dick between my legs, I get paid.”

Local police were eventually called after an audience member allegedly injured herself.

“Apparently someone in the crowd tried to slice her own throat after Mr. Smith started telling the story about eating his wife’s ass for the seventh time,” said deputy police chief Rory Dickerson. “While paramedics were able to attend to the injured person, several members of the ‘Tell-em Steve Dave’ podcast had barricaded the doors, insisting that we must let the director finish his Prince anecdote. Apparently any sudden movement may cause the heavily-stoned Smith to suffer another heart attack.”

At press time, authorities were finally able to end the standoff after posing as Twitter followers of Smith’s and convincing him to immediately start writing the script to “Tusk 2.”