Hard Digest July 8: Early Access Billy Joel, Microplastics, Friendships, and More

Drunken Rendition of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” Dangerously Close to Morphing Into “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”

BY JOE RUMRILL 

WILLISTON, N.D. — Participants of a weekly karaoke night cringed in disbelief as a local businessman’s booze-fueled “We Didn’t Start the Fire” teetered on the brink of turning into “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” at any second, sources confirmed as they placed bets.

“I mean, to pick ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’ as your song is risky even when you’re stone sober, but you could tell the way this guy lurched for the microphone and kept trying to put his whiskey soda in his jacket pocket (when he didn’t have a pocket there) that it was going to go off the rails. Every line seemed more possible that he may mindlessly lapse into a ‘six o’ clock, tv hour’ or, God forbid, a ‘Leonard Bernstein’ garbled far too loudly,” said nervous onlooker Georgiana Brooks as she awaited her turn in the karaoke queue. “Don’t get me wrong, I love R.E.M., but I’ll admit I was concerned. Not only for the sake of the song, but for anyone in the front row who didn’t want potential vomit on their clothing.”

Kendall Thurber, the businessman in question, defended any potential possibility of switching to “End of the World” on a dime.

“I may be the one in the suit, but these people are the ones who are uptight! So what if I were to devolve into another song? I, for one, refuse to be shackled to the onscreen lyrics of whatever thing I might be singing,” ranted Thurber, as he poked the air as if it were an invisible aggressor. “Hell, they’re both classic tracks as far as I’m concerned, and fuck you if you think any different. If that song turned into ‘It’s the End of the World’ it’s not like it’s the end of the world…Well, I guess it would be the end of the world, but you know what I mean…Shit, I’m blitzed.”

“We Didn’t Start the Fire” composer Billy Joel expressed his empathy for the inebriated singer of the sloppy cover.

“Are you kidding me? If anyone can relate with this poor slob, it’s me! You ever try to sing that thing? There’s like a hundred thousand words in it! Sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking, especially when I’m stumbling through it at MSG, usually a few sheets to the wind, as well,” said a ruddy-faced Joel. “At least this fool was only threatening to confuse it for another wordy song, luckily! Usually when I screw it up I end up launching into the ‘Ducktales’ theme or the Pledge of Allegiance…once even a grocery list I was trying to remember. Hey, whatever, if anything it’s more bang for your buck: two songs for the price of one.”

At press time, the entire crowd breathed a sigh of relief when Thurber passed out, destroying two tables and a number of pint glasses, before coming to and accidentally singing the wrong song.

Food: None of You Want To Admit This but Microplastics Are a Really Versatile Seasoning

BY ADAM FROST-VENRICK 

One thing about me is I’m the type of fella who likes to turn a negative into a positive. For instance, when the COVID lockdowns happened a few years ago, a lot of folks freaked out. But not me. I bought a slow cooker, a bread maker, and an air fryer and decided I would learn to cook. The results have been amazing. I feel the same positive energy can be applied to our environmental concerns. Take this, for instance: Though the eggheads may not want you to think about this, microplastics are a very versatile seasoning and should be regarded as such.

Now I’ll grant you this: Microplastics are not a very fun topic to think about. Little bits of broken-down non-degradable plastic that get into our fish, our chicken, our bloodstream. Hell, even the human placenta. But as long as it’s happening, let’s make a molehill out of a mountain and embrace the positives. These things are damn tasty. They have the same zip to them as red pepper or curry and the same utilitarian usefulness as cinnamon or paprika. Just a little spice in your dish. And that just makes cooking all the easier if you find them in your chicken, your fish – or Hell—your placenta, if you’re so inclined to sample it. Kinda chewy.

And when I say versatile, folks, I mean versatile. I like to put my Mikey-Ps on just about everything. Sometimes I’ll put ‘em in chili as a fun little alternative to cumin. It tastes zesty and makes my stomach absolutely bleed with delight.

And do they please a crowd? Do they ever! I’m the type of at-home-cook who thrills in experimenting with new dishes for his family. Am I the next Julia Child? No. But maybe one day. My wife and kids delight in tasting my new delicacies. Little do they know I’ve gotten my seafood straight from plastic-filled waters. I even dust a little bit of that sweet, sweet plastique into the brownies I take into work.

Now listen. I know there’s down-sides. Let’s apple the orange here. The science people are trying to say that microplastics are “unhealthy,” but it’s made out of plastic. Plastic is made out of oil. Oil is made out of dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are basically chickens. You wouldn’t object to me saying: ‘Let’s put chicken on this chicken.’ Would you?

“It’s Harder To Make Friends in Your 40s,” Says Man Who Didn’t Have Much Luck in His 30s, 20s, or Teens Either

BY MIKE MAHER 

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. — Local 43-year-old man Reggie Ferns believed it was harder to make friends in his 40s despite not having much luck in every prior decade as well, sources who aren’t close to the lonesome midlifer confirmed.

“Man, they weren’t fooling. Finding new friends in your 40s is hard! Especially when you didn’t even have high school friends, college friends, post-graduate friends, and adult kickball league friends,” Ferns sulked, riding a tandem bike alone. “And I’m really trying. When I hide in the corner at cookouts with my head buried in my phone, I’m clearly sending please-talk-to-me vibes. And apparently, it embarrasses my coworkers when I bring my home-brewed IPAs to happy hour, even though I made enough to share with everyone. Oh well. Until someone likes Reggie for Reggie, I’ll just continue to live life independently, on my own terms, my own time, with zero emotional or financial responsibility to anyone but myself. Bummer.”

Mother Donna Ferns sees things differently, claiming her son’s friendlessness hasn’t been a struggle at all.

“Age 4 or 40, not making friends always came easy to Reggie,” the mother of one said. “He’s a natural. Work. Church. P.F. Chang’s. Wherever Reggie goes, everyone can’t wait to have nothing to do with him. ‘Hey, where’s Reggie?’ is not a phrase that has ever been uttered regarding my son, unless it’s someone trying to avoid him. One time, Reggie threw this huge party. Wait. No. That was me. Crap. Where was I? Oh yeah. Did you know the only person who signed Reggie’s high school yearbook was Reggie? And when he makes eye contact he doesn’t blink? Or breathe? I could go on, but I’ve bragged enough about my boy!”

Tom Anderson, MySpace founder and the internet’s former BFF, says having a lot of friends is great, but not everything.

“Look, I had 240 million friends at one point,” Anderson said, permanently smiling with his head turned sideways. “You know how many weddings I attended? Buddies I moved? Godchildren I have? And cops I gave clean piss to for drug tests? I couldn’t keep up! And all I got in return was them asking why their Incubus song disappeared from my profile. Once I saw how friendless and free Reggie lived through his social posts, I sold MySpace, cashed in my 580 mil and ghosted every motherfucker on the interwebs. Smiley emoticon!”

At press time, Ferns was seen attempting to make friends with his cousin to no avail.

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Enemies Still Attacking Main Character’s Corpse

BY R. ANTHONY MAHAN

BANDITS’ COVE — Following a failed attempt to destroy a bandit hideout in obscure PlayStation 2 action RPG “Mythos III: Spilea,” enemy bandits had begun repeatedly attacking the main character’s fallen corpse, sources claim.

“Whooo! Yeah! How do you like that?” cheered an unnamed bandit, repeatedly shooting at the player’s lifeless body as if it was still a threat. “This will show you not to mess with us!” With this, the bandits briefly paused to reload their rifles before they continued shooting.

“I guess it’s cool they give you a ‘cinematic’ shot of your death and all, but to be honest, it felt excessive,” complained player character Vivian Credit, watching the bandits’ assault as she floated, incorporeal, waiting to respawn. “Honestly, it would even be more satisfying if they celebrated over my corpse. Or at least they could walk away. But instead they just keep attacking, like they don’t even realize you’re dead. I mean, I won’t be dead for long, but still.”

While the bandits remained enthusiastic, not all of the game’s NPCs were enthusiastic about such irrational behavior.

“Aye, me crew be loyal, but they ain’t much for conversation,” said Bandit King McGee, the intended boss at the end of the failed sidequest. “I told them to be on the lookout for intruders, but I didn’t mean all the time. I be tryin’ to talk to them at lunch, ask their plans for the weekend, but all they ever want to say is ‘Huh? I heard something!’ I know we be bandits, but there be more to life than attackin’ adventurers who invade the hideout, ye know? The hideout be safe, though. Suppose I can’t complain about that.”

At press time, every shopkeeper in the game was still waiting patiently for the arrival of their only customer.