Gorillaz’ Cartoon Bassist Overdoses on Cartoon Heroin

Posted on by Rick Homuth

LONDON — Cartoon bassist for the virtual indie rock group Gorillaz, Murdoc Niccals, died of a cartoon heroin overdose Wednesday, a cartoon doctor wearing a fez and a tutu announced in a statement.

“Murdoc Alphonse ‘Faust’ Niccals was found dead on the floor of his cartoon Soho flat at 1:09 a.m., and was immediately rushed to St. Bopsy Bellingham’s Hooky-Dooky Hospital on Wobblesticks Lane,” the colorfully-animated Dr. Basil Worthington said. “He was pronounced dead on arrival, while a lo-fi trip-hop soundscape softly thumped in the background. He was 55-cartoon-years-old. Canonically speaking, that is.”

Shock and disbelief was visible on the surviving members of Gorillaz’ faces when they learned of the event.

“I’m just still processing it, honestly,” said Stuart “2-D” Pot, cartoon vocalist. “From gallivanting on the open seas fighting pirates, to exploring outer space and the boundaries of time itself, we had a lot of good times. I guess when you’re an edgy cartoon rock star you sign up for the good and the bad, which includes potentially swallowing your own tongue in your cartoon bathtub.”

Many experts, speculated that the project would continue without him, despite refusal from the band to officially comment on their future following Niccals’ gruesome and tragic, yet cheeky and whimsical death.

“Though Niccals was a fixture of Gorillaz for the majority of their existence, a lot of people don’t know that he was absent for a while and replaced with one of the villains from ‘The Powerpuff Girls,’” music journalist and live-action person Nigel Glass said. “I know, I had to double-check on Google myself, but look it up. It’s true. ‘Ace’ was his name, he was one of ‘The Gangreen Gang,’ and they’d bully the kids of Townsville. So, uh, there’s any number of directions they could go in, is my point.”

Sources reported a bandmate was nearly driven to cartoon suicide by the news, only to have the attempt thwarted when the noose turned into a neon snake wearing sunglasses and studio headphones, then slithered away.

Congress Says “Fuck It,” Lowers Minimum Wage

Posted on by Nick Ortolani

WASHINGTON — Democratic members of the U.S. legislature announced today that, “Fuck it, we’re gonna lower the minimum wage,” following backlash from supporters frustrated by the lawmakers’ inaction.

“This is a tremendous victory for bi-partisanism,” dripped a visibly aroused Chuck Schumer. “Only Bernie and Tom Cotton voted against it, and Tom was just mad we struck down his amendment allowing people to hunt abortion doctors. Hell, Kamala voted, even though we didn’t need a tiebreaker. We were worried debates on the floor might drag this thing out and interfere with our taxpayer-funded vacations, but fortunately most of us agreed our time was more valuable. We don’t get paid to argue. Well, we do, but we also get paid to not argue. Besides, we need to save our strength for when we need to immediately roll over again when Republicans don’t like something else we suggest.”

Despite 80% of Americans supporting a raise in the minimum wage, the new law lowering it has been championed by politicians and pundits alike.

“For far too long, Americans have expected to earn whole dollars for their hours of labor,” blubbered a wet and wide Tucker Carlson. “Lowering the minimum wage alleviates the burden of employers needing calculators to pay their workers. With any luck, Congress will continue to erode the rights of American workers until our country finally emulates the behaviors of a sweet, delicious wasp hive. And I will be the queen, ensconced within the protection of my drones and laying beautiful eggs.”

The news was a welcome surprise to America’s CEOs and corporate shareholders.

“I’ve been cumming for hours,” boasted Kroger CEO Rodney McMullen. “Seriously, my khakis just snapped in half like a graham cracker made of semen. The new law doesn’t mention a specific minimum wage; just that we have to pay employees some form of currency. It doesn’t specify whether that currency is American, foreign, or fictional — there’s nothing stopping us from paying employees with vouchers that can only be used in our stores. Sheeeiiiiiit, we’re not even gonna lower our prices. Want to know how much a pound of bananas costs? A full day’s work from nine people. God, I love my fucking job. I’m gonna celebrate by killing a dog tonight. An orphan’s dog.”

Inspired by their recent display of bipartisanship, members of Congress are currently drafting legislation to require copayments for voting.

Opinion: Every Band’s Best Album Is the One I Heard First

Posted on by John Danek

The big music publications are scared. No one clicks on articles anymore except for clickbait-y Top 100 lists. They would all go out of business if people learned the one simple trick to determining a band’s best album. Do you want to know what that method is? It’s easy.

The best album from any band is whichever one I heard first. You name a band, and I’ll tell you their best album, definitively and objectively.

Misfits? “Earth A.D.” Boom, easy. First punk album I ever heard. Which also makes it the greatest punk album of all time. But up there is also the Ramones’ “Road to Ruin.” This might be a controversial pick, but I’ll tell you why it beats out their earlier masterpieces: I heard “Road to Ruin” before I heard those other ones.

This rule applies to genres outside of classic punk — let’s talk metal. Metallica’s highest artistic peak? “ReLoad.” All the shit before was too fast. You couldn’t hum it! “GIMMIE FUEL! GIMMIE FIRE! GIMMIE DAT WITCH HEIDI’S EYE!” That shit rocks so hard. I first heard them at an Orioles game. Iron Maiden friggin’ crushed it on “Virtual XI” with singer Blaze Bayley. All the albums I heard afterward sound like some namby-pamby opera wannabe with his nuts in a vice-grip.

I honestly feel bad, because Rolling Stone and Pitchfork are going to go out of business now that I made all their list tactics obsolete. Oh well, if they didn’t have the insight to realize that I heard David Bowie’s “Earthling” before “Low,” that’s on them.

In fact, let’s go further into classic rock territory. Pink Floyd’s best album is, and will always be, “Ummagumma.” With a song title like “Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict,” you’ll wish you were here listening to this one on vinyl with me. Led Zeppelin? “Coda.” Got it at Goodwill thinking it was some lesbian thing. My bad, but great album. The Beatles? “Yellow Submarine.” Only Ringo should have ever been allowed to sing, since the title track was one of the first songs I remember hearing as a kid.

Well, that was a fun chat about music, but I need a break. I’m gonna go watch the best David Fincher film ever, “Alien III.”

Pop-Punk Diocese Transfers Frontman to New Band

Posted on by Patrick Crooks

SANDUSKY, Ohio — The Pop Punk Diocese of Ohio is facing a wave of criticism following the transfer of a frontman who faced multiple accusations of sexual indiscretion in the Lima scene to the Sandusky scene, outraged sources confirmed.

“It is disgusting and unconscionable that the Diocese would continue to allow this known predator to act with impunity in the punk community,” noted Molly Fitzpatrick, editor of Lima-based zine, Nohio which broke the story about allegations against the 3 Ninjas frontman. “Not only did our investigative reporting expose Davey Moran’s despicable actions in Lima, it showed that he had repeatedly engaged in this behavior in punk scenes throughout Ohio. To learn that rather than excommunicating him from the community, they still continue to sweep this under the rug is sociopathic. It begs the question, is he the only one?”

Members of the Sandusky punk community reacted negatively after learning that Moran was now an ingrained and active member of their scene.

“To think that the diocese would encourage booking agents in our town to give this guy gigs makes me want to vomit,” remarked local bartender, Kate Reeser. “This is such a breach of trust between our tiny little scene and the Diocese at large. We count on them for guidance on which local bands have gotten too popular to like anymore and settle disputes between the straight edge faction and the scene at large. How do we trust them on these matters when they don’t even care about our safety?”

The Diocese has been largely silent on the matter, but released a written statement through a lawyer due to the mounting pressure.

“These are matters that are being looked at internally and we will have no further comment,” the statement read. “Regarding Davey Moran’s status as frontman of 3 Ninjas, he will remain in this function until a thorough investigation has been conducted into these unsubstantiated allegations. The Punk Diocese of Ohio is not a democracy and Sandusky risks potential expulsion for any further pushback on this.”

Attempts to reach Moran for comment by sliding into his DMs had not received a response as of press time.

Metalhead in Corpse Paint Sick of Being Mistaken for Goth in Crow Makeup

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

CHICAGO — Local metalhead, avid corpse paint donner and frequent leather pants wearer Zachary Petrosyan is reportedly fed up with constantly being mistaken for a goth in Crow makeup, according to sources.

“I work goddamn hard to get my corpse paint just right,” said Petrosyan, who occasionally plays bass in local metal band Sordid Darkness. “This shit isn’t easy, you know? I use two kinds of water-based acrylic paint. Getting the black makeup around my eyes takes time and practice. I have to get up at noon just to make sure it looks perfect before I go hang out at The Cobra Lounge, and that’s assuming I don’t have to spend nearly an hour expanding the mouth points to even out the sides, so to constantly be mistaken for a fictional character is beyond insulting.”

Chicago goth Jesse Rivers understands Petrosyan’s frustration, though he’s not a fan of his particular paint style.

“Corpse paint is pretty played out,” explained Rivers as he began setting up for his shift as a barback. “I mean, I get that metalheads like it, but there’s no style to it at all. Half of those guys look like Mel Gibson in ‘Braveheart’ and the rest just seem like baby goths working on their first beard. It’s got to be frustrating to put in that work for nothing, though.”

“Now, Crow makeup is classic. Eric Draven’s haunted, avenging Pierrot-inspired mask is an all-time great. Doesn’t need to change a thing,” Rivers added.

Darla Towles, a professor of sociology at Loyola University Chicago, is familiar with the frustration of Petrosyan’s situation.

“Many people who define their identities via a rigid, fixed type of makeup can absolutely experience feelings of alienation and anger when people just don’t get it,” Prof. Towles said. “Metalheads gain most of their sense of shared collective subcultural belonging from dressing and decorating in barely distinguishable micro-variations on a style that was codified in the late 1970s and has basically not changed since. At least Mr. Petrosyan isn’t being mistaken for a KISS fan anymore, thanks to some much-needed constructive criticism about those squiggles that looked a lot like cat whiskers.”

At press time, Petrosyan was seething as a group of pro wrestling fans complimented him on his perfect “Sting” look.

Opinion: Birds Don’t Know Shit About Song Structure

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

Every morning, I wake up and lay in bed, thinking about how my day is going to go while listening to the birds sing their morning songs. And while they may be gifted melodically, honestly, birds don’t know a goddamn thing about how to structure a song.

I don’t know why everyone acts like birdsong is so beautiful or amazing. Beethoven and Handel both used birds as motifs in their compositions and let me tell you, they needn’t have fucking bothered. Birdsong is bullshit and I’m gonna tell you why.

First of all, it’s a mess. Any neophyte songwriter could tell you that a good song needs construction. It can’t just be a wandering, half-assed series of notes that goes nowhere and repeats itself every other bar. Ya know who writes a song like that? A stoned freshman who just got handed an acoustic guitar at a party. And fucking birds. At best it’s just fast, high-register scales. Birds are the American Idol singers of nature.

Hey birds, ever heard of verse-chorus structure? It’s only been around since, oh I don’t know, the days when “Oh! Susanna” was topping the charts. It’s the single most basic form of song structure in the world and it doesn’t seem like you know a thing about it. Maybe next Winter you should migrate to a community college with a mid-level music program. And don’t get me started on birds not even seeming to know what a middle-eight is.

Umm, hey birds, maybe try sitting down and studying some of the greats. Instead of perching aimlessly in your trees and tweeting out whatever comes to mind, buy some Beach Boys records. What Brian Wilson has forgotten about song composition (and believe me, it’s a lot), you couldn’t learn in a lifetime. Maybe fly into your local record store, pick up a copy of ABBA’s 1976 tour de force, “Arrival,” and listen. Like, really fucking listen. That’s what a hook is. Not your stupid peeps.

God, birds make me angry.

Oh, and also, birds have no idea how to actually perform with each other. Every single bird out there seems to be singing the exact same repetitive, looping musical phrase at the same time. I won’t dignify it by calling it a melody. They’re constantly jumping over each other just to do the same “tweet tweet tweet” like every other bird. Birds are selfish jazz musicians trying to play the same solo over each other all the time. They’re on par with the worst jam band ever. Or, like, decent jazz.

Listen, birds. Try harder. I’ve put up with your bullshit experimentation, but if you don’t buckle down and learn some structure, you’re going to lose a fan.

Long Lost Roommate Discovered Amid Rubble in Punk House Spring Cleaning Effort

Posted on by Jay Shingle

PORTLAND, Ore. — Members of notorious local punk house “Dish Pitt” finally found disappeared roommate Jon “Scuzzy” Baker last week when they began their every-other-two-years spring cleaning effort, according to sources.

“Believe it not, we weren’t totally shocked,” said longtime live-in member, Maurice Phaidros. “Scuzzy had a habit of getting too drunk to make it up the basement stairs, and he would pass the fuck out down there a lot. I will admit that this is a bit embarrassing even for us, but it is also probably the most punk as fuck thing I have ever seen. It’s sort of hard to call it an absolute tragedy, Scuzzy is now a Dish Pitt legend.”

Former live-in Eamon Cynbel, now an ER resident at Oregon Health & Sciences University was less thrilled by the news.

“I gave up on that life six years ago for this very reason. After I turned 25, it just wasn’t cool anymore to live around multiple health hazards at any given moment,” he said while reading a book on investment portfolios. “I know we all collectively agreed to live in a messy state back then, but this takes it to an utterly disgusting level.”

The house has long maintained a quasi jurisdiction of its own, making it difficult for emergency and investigative personnel to enter the home and remove the body.

“We gave up on this house a long time ago because the safety calculus always leaned on the side of letting the tenants caring for themselves,” coroner Braidy Ikenna stated. “It is well known in the Portland Metro Area that the house is essentially too dangerous to enter due to the conditions inside. We just couldn’t risk leaving a body behind though, so this time we entered the home in hazard gear normally left for chemical spills or the most intense fire-damaged sites.”

At press time, house members were organizing a socially distanced tribute show for Scuzzy in the yard, instructing interested parties to ask a punk for details.

Functioning Loser Can’t Even Do Depression Right

Posted on by Krissy Howard

ST. LOUIS —  Local man who is living with functional depression, Dan Sousa, surprised exactly no one after it was learned that he can’t even seem to display common symptoms of the disorder correctly, sources report. 

“I’ve been having trouble focusing on anything really, and only seem to experience joy through occasional and fleeting sexual experiences that always leave me feeling worse after,” said the utter disappointment to everyone around him, probably. “I wondered if I might be depressed, but I’ve been there before and this time looks different. Like I’m still checking my mail and returning my parent’s calls and stuff, so I fully assumed I must just be a piece of shit fuck up who can’t concentrate for five seconds or focus on really anything. It turns out, I have functional depression, which offers the benefits of regular depression while still leaving plenty of room for everyone in my life to just be super mad at me for not wanting to go hiking all the time.” 

Those close to Sousa report feeling similarly let down by his capability for showing up for most everyday responsibilities, despite not being motivated by literally anything at all. 

“Overall, I’m pretty disappointed, but not really surprised. I mean, this is the same guy who still trudges through daily obligations like buying food, even while being heavily weighed down by an overwhelming feeling that there’s no point to doing any of this bullshit,” said friend on kind of a superficial level, Carrie van der Post. “Everyone knows that depressed people are supposed to lay in bed for three days straight and just listen to Elliot Smith and disappear from Instagram for a month at a time. The fact that he could fuck this up is just classic Dan, to be honest.” 

Medical non-experts validated Sousa’s condition while still offering dismissive suggestions to improve his current state. 

“Functional depression seems like the better option, and in many ways it certainly is, but that’s not to say that it doesn’t come with its own set of hurdles,” said guy who no one asked but just wants to chime in here for a second, John Debrewoski. “Sometimes, people with functional depression have too much on their schedules to exercise, do journaling, or even add a vitamin D supplement to their diets, which I do when I’m having an off day.” 

Sousa was last seen feeding his cat, Muffin, while audibly considering that he can’t end his life for at least 10 years as it wouldn’t be right to leave the feline with no caretaker.

Tense Introduction Between FBI and Local Police Calmed by Racist Joke

Posted on by Ryan Danley

PRESCOTT, Ariz. — FBI Agent Dan Trolley defused a tense standoff with local police over the jurisdiction of a crime scene with a well-timed racist joke passed down to him from his law enforcement mentor, amused sources report.

“I could tell when we first choppered into this double murder/kidnapping, that the locals weren’t going to be happy that we were taking over the investigation. We all sat there for a minute just staring at each other. So I looked for a common space where all law enforcement comes together. And boom, I cracked a joke about Puerto Ricans that makes even the most hardened cop smile,” said a proud Trolley. “Things went smooth as silk after that. It’s not every day in this job you think you made a difference, but today I did. Once I realized that I had them eating out of my hand I busted out a zinger about Vietnamese women and one cop was laughing so hard he shot coffee out of his nose. Feels good to bridge these gaps.”

Local Police Sergeant Mike ‘Duke’ Chandler will remember this day for a long time.

“When those Feds showed up to our crime scene talking nonsense about state lines and RICO this and that, I was pissed. They always push their way in with their fancy college degrees and tech doodads. But then that one tall fella in the sunglasses hit us with that line, I’m going to butcher it, I can’t even, it’s just too dang funny,” said Chandler while trying to suppress laughter. “It wasn’t just the joke that spoke to me. It was how he was able to simultaneously disparage a race and social class in one fell swoop. It made me realize that we’re all the same hateful cop on the inside.”

Fraternal Order of Police National Commandant Lewis Dowd hopes the interaction today sets a precedence for the future.

“There has always been a deep schism between local cops and the feds, but this is a great example of how these interactions can play out in the future. Imagine how much of a boot we could put on society’s neck if we just got over this petty territory squabble,” said Dowd. “We can learn so much from each other. Local police could learn things like disappearing people and other COINTELPRO tactics, while the feds could learn brutal street thuggery and shooting at anything that moves. We’d be like a baton-wielding Voltron!”

Trolley was unavailable for further comment as he was busy making everyone laugh at obscene comments on the physical attractiveness of one of the murder victims.

Opinion: Facts May Not Care About My Feelings, but as an Empath I Sure Do Care About Theirs

Posted on by James Knapp

Look, some things are just set in stone. 2 + 2 = 4. “I” before “E” except after “C.” Flu shots cause irreversible testicular torsion in the autistic. These are the simple facts we cannot change. But as an empath I just can’t stop myself from feeling like there’s some real pain hiding behind these truths.

I first realized I was extremely empathetic towards facts after I read Jordan Peterson’s first book – I think it was called “I’m a Sad Boy and Nobody Likes Me, Jordan Peterson, and I Sure Do Need a Hug.” It might not have been called exactly that, but I was just so overtaken with factual emotion that that’s how it read for me.

Of course I do understand that facts can’t reciprocate these emotions as they are, really, more of a broad concept rather than a human being or pretty smart dog which can express genuine empathy. But gosh darnit, every time I hear Ben Shapiro rationally explain through logic and reason that there is no biological need for women to orgasm I just feel like I gotta send that brainy little guy all the love I’ve got. It’s the facts that do it to me.

I’ve gotten to the point as an empath that I can’t even watch Tucker Carlson’s show and all his level-headed, well reasoned, unbiased truisms without spending a whole week in sweat pants on the couch consuming nothing but Ben & Jerrys and Gatorade because I have literally cried myself to the point of dehydration from how very factual everything is.

Actually, I’m beginning to feel a little empathetic just writing this. Facts are people too, you know! Why can’t anybody understand that I just have a lot of feelings for them, and not that I’m an unconscionable garbage person. I guess some people just aren’t willing to walk a mile in someone else’s factual shoes.