Opinion: Quarantine or No Quarantine, This Bird Will Die by My Hand

Posted on by Dan Rice

With Covid taking a victory lap around the country, it seems everyone’s holiday plans are up in the air. Well, not mine. Social distance Thanksgiving, Zoom Thanksgiving, no Thanksgiving at all, it doesn’t matter to me. All that really matters is that I get to kill this fucking bird.

Sure, Thanksgiving is about family, bonds, and appreciating what you have. It’s also about control. Control over the life and death of another living, breathing creature. It is about cosmic justice. About being God. It is placing the neck of a behemoth bird on your chopping block and saying, “You have grown fat off of my table scraps long enough you flightless waste of space. I deem you unworthy and it is time to die.”

And, like, pie or whatever.

I for one need the control. Without the rush of killing a living thing and feasting off of its remains once a year, I fear what I will become. When I drop this ax I’m not just chopping the head off some dumb bird. I’m chopping the head off of everyone who has ever wronged me. I’m chopping my boss. I’m chopping my kids when they don’t listen. I am channeling a year’s worth of pent up rage and hatred into a single act of murder and, instead of going to prison, I will be told it is delicious.

I warn you: do not take this from me.

It really doesn’t matter if the family decides to brave the trip or not, that bird will fall to my blade. I don’t care if it “doesn’t make sense to cook such a large turkey for just the four of us.” Why don’t I just go buy a smaller bird as my husband suggested? Because that isn’t part of the ritual. And if I do not get my ritual, that bastard will be the first to know.

No, it has to be THIS turkey. The one I’ve fed and cared for and fattened all year, knowing all the while it’s gruesome fate. Every night I come to the coop with my handful of corn. I stare into the bird’s impossibly vacant eyes and I think about every regret I’ve ever had. Then I scatter the corn, watching this pathetic evolutionary throwback peck at my charity, kernel by kernel, as I tell myself, “Soon. Soon.”

Plus, I really want to try this butterfly-cut method I read about. Apparently, it cooks faster and retains more moisture. Win-win!

Metalhead Accidentally Chugs Bottle of Shampoo Instead of 22 oz. Coors He Brought Into Shower

Posted on by James Knapp

DALEVILLE, Va. — Local metal fan Cliff Gallaway mistakenly drank an entire bottle of high-end shampoo in the shower this morning instead of the Coors tallboy he normally enjoys during his bi-montly cleaning, nauseous roommates confirmed.

“I was just trying to relax with a shower soda before I had to go clock in for my deli job at Kroger, so I was in a bit of a rush,” explained Gallaway. “At first I thought I had pulled one of those nasty wine coolers out of the fridge by mistake, but by the time I looked down I realized I actually downed my roommate’s entire bottle of Chic & Sassy shampoo. I’ll admit, it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever drunk. But hey, if I didn’t call poison control that time I swallowed all those watch batteries I thought were fancy mints, I’m not going to do it now.”

Roommate Ramona Betts, however, was not amused.

“Normally I wouldn’t give a shit what Cliff puts into his body. But that shampoo is an artisan crafted, organic blend of eucalyptus oil and fig resin that I stole from a hotel last year. It probably costs like, $400 or some shit,” bemoaned Betts. “How the hell did that idiot manage to mix up my shampoo with a $2 can of Coors? I swear, I’m never renting to people I met at an Opeth concert ever again.”

Chic & Sassy’s Chairman and CEO Rick Lansing assured that there was no cause for alarm regarding the shampoo’s toxicity.

“All of our company’s bath products are 100% natural and safe to ingest. We don’t recommend it, however, and are in no way liable for any illness that may arise in Mr. Gallaway,” stated Lansing, reading off a note passed to him by Chic & Sassy’s legal team. “Out of all the stuff that metalheads consume anyway, is this really that bad? It might even help clean him out a bit. Oh, which reminds me: his roommates should stock up on toilet paper, because he’s gonna be in the bathroom for at least 24 hours after drinking a whole bottle of this stuff. It may not be poison, but it sure is rough on the gut.”

Gallaway has since been hospitalized after downing an entire bottle of what he thought was Jack Daniels, but was actually the cremated remains of his roommate’s cat.

Attempt to Meet New People Smoking Outside Quickly Turning Into Fist Fight

Posted on by Steve Esparra

PHILADELPHIA — Recent transplant Eric Bromley’s ill-fated attempt to meet new people outside of a punk show escalated into a full-blown fist fight within minutes, according to sources who feel for the guy but weren’t about to step in.

“Yeah… I don’t know what’s really going on. I moved to Philly for work a couple months ago, and the people at my office are all squares,” explained Bromley, a software developer. “All my best buds back in Sheboygan I met while splittin’ atoms outside punk shows, so I just figured I’d probably meet some like-minded people here the same way. But I asked some guy if he had an extra cig, and he just cold-cocked me out of nowhere. I fucking hate this city.”

Cliff “Buzzsaw” Porter, who confirmed he punched Bromley, insisted that Bromley wouldn’t have been hurt if he weren’t “such a bitch-ass bitch about everything.”

“First of all… fuck that guy. I don’t know who he thinks he is, or who he thinks he knows, but it sure as shit ain’t me,” Porter stated. “Smokes don’t grow on trees around here, so he can piss right off. As far as I’m concerned, he tried to rob me. He’s lucky I didn’t curb stomp him. I’ve actually seen guys get stomped out for less.”

Concerned bystander and self-proclaimed relocation expert Bella Ruiz claimed such “misunderstandings” are not entirely uncommon, despite being easily avoidable.

“Oftentimes, when we see people attempting to make friends, you offer something up rather than trying to take something from the other person,” she explained, now around the corner from the ordeal she attempted to intervene before an errant fist led her to quickly abandon the scene. “It’s a very interesting strategy Mr. Bromley took — obviously, it didn’t work out the way he’d hoped. I will add this altercation to my findings.”

After icing his eye and fixing his hair, Bromley was seen searching open software developer job postings located in Brooklyn, N.Y., mumbling to himself that, “Surely New York must be a friendly place, right?”

I’m Going Home for Thanksgiving To Secure My Inheritance by Christmas

Posted on by Mark Bouchard

As Thanksgiving approaches, and COVID-19 rates get progressively worse, many of my friends are shocked that I still plan on visiting my family for what many call a pointless holiday. I’ve been called irresponsible and told I could potentially be passing along COVID to susceptible family members, even if I test negative right before seeing them. To those people, I say: good, that’s exactly what I’m hoping happens.

Like many millennials, I am out of work due to the pandemic. Now that my unemployment benefits are sputtering out, and a second stimulus isn’t looking likely, I’ve turned my attention elsewhere in the hopes that I might find much-needed financial security in these troubling times. I’m talking of course, about my inheritance.

You see, I’ve got one of the most important things you can have in America: generational wealth. Both my parents and grandparents are fairly wealthy, and more importantly, I know that as an only child, I’ve got a pretty choice spot in their wills.

I should be armed by now. I’ve been taking public transportation all week and I stopped washing my hands. Time to do what needs to be done. It’s not premeditated murder if you bring a can of cranberry sauce.

I know that this might seem callous, but the allowance I get from my parents barely covers rent, utilities, my phone, and groceries. With the recent cut to unemployment, I’ve had to cut the number of times I order out weekly down to three. No one should have to live like this. Our government has failed us, so I’m taking matters into my own hands.

Be safe out there this Thanksgiving, and cross your fingers that COVID takes pappy quickly. My parents still have a few money-making years, and I’d like to get my hands on a PS5 before the Christmas rush.

World War 2 Code Breaker Asked to Decipher Pavement Lyrics

Posted on by Patrick Coyne

VOORHEES, N.J. — Local grandmother and World War 2 hero Dorothy Schuler was asked yesterday by her grandson Darin Roche to apply her code breaking skills to deciphering lyrics by ’90s indie rock band Pavement.

“My 98-year-old Mom-mom was a codebreaker for the Navy. She’s an amazing woman, and if anyone could figure out what the hell Stephen Malkmus meant when he said, ‘The concourse is four-wheeled shame,’ or, ‘Send in the romance of people with their dreadlocks,’ it’s the woman who helped send over a dozen U-boats to the bottom of the Atlantic,” said Roche. “Now I just have to decide if I start her off with something good like ‘Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’ or just rip off the Band-Aid and launch right into ‘Brighten the Corners.’”

Although usually incredibly patient, Schuler admitted that with this request, she wished her grandson would “just shut his claptrap, already.”

“Darin is a sweet boy — a sweet, stupid, misguided boy with shit taste in music,” explained Schuler. “He made me listen to hours and hours of poorly recorded drums and noisy guitars. And that singing, if you can even call it singing! I’ve lived a long life full of amazing experiences: first woman in my family to graduate from college, served in World War 2… hell, I even slow danced with Van Johnson once. And this is what he chose to ask me about — if I can explain ‘Heaven is a Truck’ to him?”

Pavement lead singer Stephen Malkmus acknowledged that he’s frequently asked about his lyrics.

“Most think there’s either a deep meaning or it’s simply cryptic nonsense. I usually just avoid the topic altogether, because the truth is so much worse,” said Malkmus. “Back then I was a big believer that imperial Japan would again rise up and conquer our Yankee oppressors; my lyrics were coded messages of support to my ‘IJA’ brothers and sisters. What can I say? Everybody believed some pretty crazy stuff in their 20s, right?”

Roche is reportedly planning on coming home for Easter a few days early so he and his Mom-mom can run through the entire discography of Neutral Milk Hotel.

Guide: How to Trick Your Boyfriend Into Thinking He’s Letting You Win

Posted on by Ben Doyle

Ever wanted to annihilate your boyfriend in video games without annihilating his fragile male ego? Well with these six simple tips, you’ll be racking up the wins in no time.

6. Say, “Tee-hee, what just happened?” every time you perform a flawless Hyakuretsukyaku 

After finishing your boyfriend off with a perfectly timed Lightning Kick, the blow can be softened by giggling, brushing your hair back, and acting like you haven’t memorized the inputs for every single signature attack in Street Fighter. If your boyfriend insists that you must’ve accidentally done Chun-Li’s “leg thing” and pats you on the head, then you’re on the right track. 

5. Insist on using the “good” Joy Con

Your boyfriend may think that one of your Joy Cons is “acting weird” has “worse bluetooth.” This is not true, but he will happily blame his devastating string of losses on the Joy Con instead of his shattered masculinity. If your boyfriend is one of those people who thinks that Gamecube controllers possess some sort of magical competitive powers, even better.

4. Be patient, and let him condescendingly explain to you how you beat him twenty-three times in a row

After any particularly brutal loss, your boyfriend will be desperate to break down what happened. Do not roll your eyes when he says “RNG” — instead, try asking him what “RNG” means. He will get this wrong, but just nod and smile. Then touch him on the arm and say “wow, you know so much about this game.” 

3. Pretend you don’t know what video games are

At a certain point, your boyfriend will start to get suspicious that you actually know how to play video games — this can be quickly put to rest by asking him what those flashing lights on the television are. 

2. Ask him how his arms got all big and veiny like that

This has nothing to do with tricking him, but it should at least distract him from the acute pain of finishing 4th in Mario Kart. You may also want to comment on how heavy his Pro Controller looks, or how muscular his fingers must be after pressing all those buttons. 

1. Let him win exactly one round and then immediately break up with him

It was time, anyway.

Like this article? Check out our podcast! The Hard Drive Podcast is available on all podcast apps.

Cyberpunk 2077 Still Won’t Let Fans Customize How Many Hours Their Devs Work a Week

Posted on by Jeremy Kaplowitz

WARSAW — Fans of CD Projekt Red’s upcoming Cyberpunk 2077 are upset at the level of character customization, citing that they are still not able to choose how many hours of work Cyberpunk developers work a week.

“I guess you can say we grossly misunderstood what people wanted out of customization. We thought fans would want to pick and choose the color of each individual pubic hair on their character with an RGB slider. Kind of the opposite of the ‘make devs work fewer hours’ thing apparently everybody’s into,” said Cyberpunk 2077 director Adam Badowski. “But don’t worry. If Cyberpunk 2077 ever comes out, we’ll get our devs working around the clock to rush out a DLC that gets fans the level of customization they deserve.”

Despite the outcry from fans, news of the complaints have not yet reached Cyberpunk 2077 developers.

“Hey I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time for an interview right now,” said one developer when asked to comment. “I just have a ton of work and we really need to get this game done before the launch date in April. Wait, what did you just say? It’s NOVEMBER?!”

As a compromise, CD Projekt Red announced that they would be adding a new slider to the game allowing players to choose what symptoms of depression the overworked developers experience.

Like this article? Check out our podcast! The Hard Drive Podcast is available on all podcast apps.

We Fact-Checked the Lyrics To “Bawitdaba” and, as Expected, It All Checks Out

Posted on by Ted Pillow

Misinformation is running rampant in our streets and in our newsfeeds! We are being manipulated and outside influence is taking hold of our personal decisions like what to buy and even who to vote for. Even works of art like classic songs can have misleading messages. These timeless works of aural expression can build good faith with us through their enchanting melody and maybe even a sick-ass fuckin’ gibberish rap intro, only to take advantage of that good faith when our guards and mullets are down.

Fortunately, we know that our favorite song, Kid Rock’s trailer park party anthem “Bawitdaba,” would never betray us like that. But, just to be safe, we fact-checked it anyway and we’re pleased to report it’s all 150% true.

Lyric: “My name is Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid…Kid Rock!”

Fact check: Accurate as FUCK and we are so pumped up right now.

Lyric: “Bawitdaba da bang da bang diggy diggy diggy said the boogy said up jump the boogy.”

Fact check: Fact. These are the most closely studied and fervently debated of all the “Bawitdaba” lyrics. We interviewed dozens of linguists, mathematicians, and scientists to evaluate their veracity, including the world’s leading authority on Kid Rock lyrics.

“It’s unquestionably true!” Dr. Ben Royce explained to us while scrawling complicated formulas on a chalkboard. “We know for a fact that ‘bawitdaba da bang da bang diggy’ because ‘the boogy’ said it! The boogy said, ‘up jump the boogy!’ It’s science and it simply can’t be denied. Hey, did I tell you guys I have a real-life stethoscope? Come on, let’s go up to my room and check it out!”

Lyric: “And this is for the questions that don’t have any answers/The midnight glancers and the topless dancers/The candid freaks, cars packed with speakers/The Gs with the 40s and the chicks with beepers.”

Fact check: True. Painstaking research by our staff confirms that Kid Rock’s music is intended for midnight glancers, topless dancers, candid freaks, Gs with 40s, and chicks with beepers. In fact, we have an Aunt Krystal who loves Kid Rock too and she is all of those things.

Lyric: “All you bastards at the IRS/For the crooked cops and the cluttered desks.”

Fact check: Confirmed. The IRS are bastards, cops are crooked, and desks are cluttered. Ours, for example, is covered with printouts of late ‘90s song lyrics we found on Angelfire fansites.

Lyric: “You can look for answers but that ain’t fun/Now get in the pit and try to love someone.”

Fact check: Accurate. Spending 3 months heading a research team to examine the lyrics to “Bawitdaba” was not fun. On the plus side, it did help us reconnect with certain members of our family who can only be reached via beeper. We love you, Aunt Krystal!

33-Year-Old Woman Believes Now More Than Ever She Has a Shot With Josh Hartnett

Posted on by Kaitlyn Jeffers

NAPA, Calif. — Local woman Amanda Perez believes that, for the first time in her life, she most likely has a decent shot with actor and ’90s heartthrob Josh Hartnett after nearly 20 years of pining.

“Back when Josh was in ‘The Faculty’ I was only 11, so he definitely wouldn’t want to date then. But I just made partner at my law firm, and I got really into pilates three years ago, so I’m aging like a fine wine in a majestic Northern California vineyard,” Perez stated. “I’m older and more mature, and just feel like if there was ever a time for Josh to probably be, at the very least, open to a date, this is it. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Or maybe something totally serious, who knows? I’m definitely open to seeing where it goes.”

Perez’s mother, Donna Perez, has absolute faith in her daughter’s tenacity of will, determination, and ability to achieve her goals.

“He’s that guy from the ‘Halloween’ remake, right? Oh, yeah — she can seal that deal in like, six minutes,” Mrs. Perez said. “That guy must be like, 45 by now. If he’s single, he’s got no business turning my daughter down. I saw her pass the bar exam on her first try — I don’t know what more Josh Hartnett would need to see their potential together. She’s a solid 8, and back in the aughts, he was about a 6. I mean, he was O.K., but he’s no Gael Garcia Bernal.”

Sadly, following a brief scroll through the actor’s Wikipedia page and learning that Hartnett is happily married with two children, the younger Perez was remorseful that she didn’t act sooner.

“That’s a shame. Maybe I should’ve made my move after ‘Lucky Number Slevin’ came out,” she lamented. “I bet he was feeling pretty low then, and would’ve been easier to nail. Oh well. Maybe we’re just meant to have one of those unrequited loves… like how when two people have never and probably will never meet, but one person saw the other person on T.V. a lot. It’s a tale as old as time.”

“Does anyone know what Domhnall Gleeson is up to, though?” she added. “I love gingers and that guy can get it, too.”

Opinion: Two Hot People Having a Kid Together Is Eugenics

Posted on by John Danek

There was once a man who dreamed of a more perfect humanity, a day when everyone would be considered equally beautiful. Think it sounds nice? Well, that man’s name was Adolf Hitler, you Nazi scum. Get your Aryan selective breeding theories out of my face, before my fist debunks them for you.

If you’re hot and you have sex with someone else who’s hot you are basically a war criminal.

Eugenics is the ethically corrupt methodology of attempting to improve the species by selective reproduction. Modern-day eugenics isn’t being carried out in laboratories or philosophical debates, but rather on Tinder and Bumble and at sex parties that I’ve never been invited to except by grave mistake.

Hot people only want to have children with the other hots. We know this. They’ve always stuck together. Sure, they sometimes act like they’re not disgusted by your grotesque visage. But they’ll never want to pork you. Don’t believe me? Just ask. They will say no every time.

What I’m saying is: anyone who doesn’t seriously consider reproducing with me is part of the problem.

The hot people are hoarding all the good genetics. People are starving due to lack of beauty, and the top 1% will do anything except redistribute dat ass. Wanna know why I look so fucking weird? Because Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes are swirling their DNA into some mega-hottie supermodel fetus and my parents couldn’t give me a jawline. Bernie wouldn’t stand for this, and neither should you.

It’s simple, mathematically speaking. Anyone 7/10 or higher is hot. And if you’re hot, it is your moral duty to create offspring with a homely. At least two (2) hotness points below you. Fives. Fours. Hell, you could even take one for the whole team and bump uglies with a two.

But if you stick to eights and nines and tens? Textbook eugenics. I think you deserve to get canceled. C’mon man, dilute the gene pool. Make it so everyone is like, cute enough to get by. I don’t know who needs to hear this but Hitler’s ghost smiles every time two hot people have sex. What are you, a Nazi? No? Then it’s time to get out there, start plowing some ogres, and make ol’ Adolf ugly cry.