Hard Digest September 29: Early Access Audiophiles, Dads, Toilet Paper, and More

Newly Declared Audiophile Exclusively Listens To Vinyl Since Ex Took Him Off Spotify Premium Plan

By Joe Rumrill 

ANAHEIM, Calif. — Local deadbeat Griffin Carson adopted the stance of vinyl-only “audiophile” coinciding with his ex-girlfriend’s understandable decision to remove him from her Spotify Premium plan, sources confirmed while agreeing “good for her.”

“Actually, I don’t miss the endless library of easily-accessible music always at my fingertips at all. I actually despised how simple it was to make shareable playlists. Who even needs that?” gasped a frazzled Carson, as he put on the bravest face we’ve ever seen. “I far prefer the scratchiness and limited scope of my record collection, which I’m proud to say now numbers in the multiple dozens! Plus, I’m getting in shape by upping my step count from walking over and flipping the sides. Yup, doing pretty well if you ask me.”

Spotify user and Carson’s ex-girlfriend, Priscilla Ruggles, defended her decision to move on.

“Oh, I definitely would have let him stay on the plan if he’d have just split the monthly fee with me. I don’t wish him any ill-will, but I can’t just let him ride my coattails. I just wish he’d stop acting like he cares about sound quality and artist’s residuals and shit like that,” said a calm Ruggles, who is clearly feeling better than she has in a long time. “But Griffin was always pretty performative, and if there’s one place he loved being, it was up on his high horse. Hey, more power to him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a weekly curated mix that I can listen to while walking around outside to enjoy.”

Spotify CEO Daniel Ek is fearful that the recurring “jettisoned-ex” situation is ruining his company.

“Man, this scourge of lowlife ex-boyfriends is really making a dent in our financials, year after year. For every split-up couple that keeps their account, there are nine that say ‘to hell with him and to hell with the music and podcasts he liked.’ It’s a pretty harrowing state of affairs,” said Ek, while kicking a street musician as if by instinct. “Hell, I might even have to resort to making a new ‘Ek’s exes’ membership plan for losers whose ex-partners have wised up and removed them in an effort to forge a new life path just so we can keep a few of these ding-dongs paying for our services. Wish us luck. If it’s anyone that has it hard in this industry, it’s we Spotify CEOs.”

At press time, Carson had been reduced to pretending that he only cared to listen to ambient sound and birdsong, as Ruggles remembered his turntable and most of his records were hers, too.

We Sat Down With Death Metal Icon, My Dad Sneezing

By Laura Lewis 

When we think about death metal, we think about the deep, growling vocals made synonymous with the subgenre by such figures as Aman Amarth’s Johan Hegg and Lamb of God’s Randy Blythe.

But what about the unsung singers of death metal; the sounds we’ve come to know, but perhaps have never truly recognized?

That’s why we at the Hard Times sat down with a death metal icon, my Dad sneezing.

Hard Times: Thanks for sitting down with us today. Can you talk a little bit about how you got your start in death metal?

Dad: I mean, you were there.

HT: Right, but this is an interview, remember? It’s for Hard Times; we’re a publication. That’s why I’m recording this, and why these other people are here.

Dad: Oh yeah, cool. Welcome! You guys want some root beer? I’ve got loads, just went to BJ’s. You know you can buy a whole shed at BJ’s now? They’ll deliver it and everything. Greenhouses, too. Just the other day, I-

HT: Dad, we’re talking about your career as a death metal vocalist.

Dad: Okay, sure. So we were on a family vacation, right? This was about 88, 89, and we went to California to see the redwoods. Majestic, but the altitude gave us all a kind of head cold. Then in Van Nuys, I was sneezing a lot and trying to hold it in, but then all that pent-up sneezing came out in one monster sneeze, you know? And it just so happened I did that outside Metal Blade Records. Next thing I knew, I had a job.

HT: So they signed you right there on the spot?

Dad: No no, I said I had a job, not a record deal. My job was to record all my sneezes. I got paid by the sneeze.

HT: Well, what happened when you started to feel better?

Dad: It was late August, nearly back-to-school time for you kids, so I dropped off my tape and we went home.

HT: That was it? Didn’t you do this work for years? Whenever you missed my school events, you said it was because you were filling in for King Diamond.

Dad: Well yeah, I did. They flew me out periodically, but just to record. They said I didn’t have the right look to join a band, and I was too busy working on the Vista Cruiser to tour. I guess you’d call me a session vocalist. But only during cold and flu season.

HT: So, you didn’t even work with these bands directly?

Dad: Nah. I was just there to round out their sound on the album and get home in time for dinner. Plus, I was usually sick, you know? Didn’t wanna pass on my germs.

HT: You’re credited on over 16 studio albums. You’re telling me you never met any of the bands?

Dad: Met Corpsegrinder once.

HT: Cool! Tell us about that.

Dad: Oh, it was unrelated to music. We were playing the same claw machine at a movie theater. Nice guy. Real good at claw machines. Won like 4 things in a row.

HT: Okay. Well, how would you describe your sound? What would you say your influences are?

Dad: Influenza, mostly. Plus the sound of the garbage disposal on meatloaf night, am I right? laughs

HT:

Dad:

HT:

Dad: You see, it’s funny because my wife makes terrible meatloaf. So we turn on the garbage disposal to get rid of it all. And it makes this hard, gurgly sound.

HT:

Dad: Anyway, that’s the sound I try to replicate. I don’t much understand it, but it’s what the kids like.

HT: Thanks for talking to us, Dad. You mind signing off with one of your signature brees?

Dad: All I got’s cheddar. HA! No, sure, I’ll do you one. Pass me that pepper.

Local Punk Venue Introduces World’s First No-Ply Toilet Paper

By Zachary Wolf 

RAPID CITY, S.D. — Local punk venue The Pukebox has somehow invented the world’s first “no-ply” toilet paper as a courtesy to their guests, sources in the bathroom report.

“I pregamed at home, then ate some Wendy’s chili I found in my friend’s car, and dropped a massive deuce during the opening set. I had grabbed a handful of toilet paper, but when I went to wipe I got nothing but my hand. It was so weird,” said local punk Steven Hoffner. “It dissolved like cotton candy in your mouth. Tried it again, same thing. By then I heard the band was doing an Aus-Rotten cover, so I just credit carded the rest with my fingers and ran back out there. Didn’t even wash my hands or anything.”

The Pukebox owner Larry Runnels says he’s proud to be at the forefront of sanitation at punk venues.

“We take health and safety very seriously at The Pukebox. Sure, it looks like a festering shithole, but that’s just the aesthetic. We also developed a hand soap that feels just like water. Some people have said we just fill the dispensers with water, but those are baseless accusations from people who prefer gooey soap. The rumors that we mop up puke, wring out the alcohol then sell it back to customers at half price are outrageous as well–we would never sell anything at half price.”

Microbiologist Stephanie Laroque has studied punk venues for years as an easy way to access various germs, bacterias, and diseases for her research.

“Oh yeah, punk shows offer the ideal habitat for germs to thrive in their natural environment. Even more so than a controlled laboratory,” said Laroque. “These dives have effectively never been sanitized, so we can really see how these things develop without the presence of antibacterial cleaners. Every square foot of your average punk venue has nearly unlimited data on germs, bacteria, fungi, mold, and so on. Our industry owes a lot to disgusting punks and piece of shit venue owners, for sure.”

At press time, Runnels was seen cleaning pint glasses with a dirty diaper he found in the alley.

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Man Who “Doesn’t Like to Get Political” About to Say the Most Insane Shit You’ve Ever Heard in Your Entire Life

BY Dan Kozuh 

AUSTIN, Texas — Local man Greg Halpern, 36, whose social media profiles describe himself as “normal dude who doesn’t like to get political,” is moments away from launching into a monologue that will, without question, be a mind-boggling string of nonsense, buzzwords, dog whistles, and conspiracy theories you will ever witness outside of a 4chan post, employees at the bar you are in warn.

“Yeah, I just don’t really get into politics,” Greg lies, as though he’s about to follow it up with a calm reflection on bipartisan cooperation. Instead, within the next 30 seconds, you will be listening to an unhinged tirade about how Wi-Fi is erasing 9/11 from people’s memories, armadillos are government drones sent to spy on Texan culture, and how the show “Survivor” is just a false flag operation to disrupt the governments of lower-middle-income countries.

Locals are very much aware of Halpern and his, supposed, apolitical stance.

“He claims that the shit he says isn’t political because he ‘hates everyone equally.’ He’ll casually reference ‘the way things are these days’ and drop vague mentions of ‘doing research’ and then he hits you with the wildest thing you could possibly imagine,” bartender Turner Casey said while avoiding making eye contact with Halpern. “He’s like a human mad-libs just spilling combinations of proper nouns and verbs you’d never think would go together. One day it is about how Lucky Charms are radicalizing kids and tomorrow it’s about how Ancestry.com is using our DNA to create brain matter that can legally vote. I mean, I can’t say it’s political because I don’t think he even knows who the president is. And trust me, he doesn’t have schizophrenia or anything like that, he’s just…Greg.”

Dr. Linda Crowley, a professor of Conspiracy Theory Psychology at the University of Texas, weighed in on Greg’s unique worldview.

“Individuals like Greg exhibit what’s known as cognitive scattershot syndrome,” Crowley explained. “They take unrelated concepts—like Bigfoot and the IRS—and combine them into elaborate narratives that feel internally logical to them. It’s like their brain is playing a game of six degrees of government interference. To them none of this feels political because, in their mind, it’s not about left or right—it’s about uncovering the ‘truth.’”

At press time, Greg was saying something about nanochips in organic kombucha without picking up the hint that you stopped listening a long time ago.