Hard Digest June 8: Early Access Milo Goes to Trade School, Missed Connections, Skateboarding, Adult Leagues, and More

Annoying Conservative Tells Milo He “Should Have Gone to Trade School Instead”

BY CHRIS BOWEN

MANHATTAN BEACH, Calif. — Unbearable conservative Doug Tannenburg told Descendents logo Milo that he should have chosen trade school instead of going to college in the ‘80s, confirmed irritated sources.

“College is nothing but a liberal breeding ground where George Soros teaches you about communism and pansexual orgies,” said Tannenburg. “That’s why everyone, including cartoon mascots on famous punk albums, should go to trade school where you can learn how to be a plumber, blacksmith, or dishwasher. I can’t believe anyone would want to spend that kind of money on a liberal arts degree when they could spend a fraction of the cost and learn how to hammer a nail or use a measuring tape. At least that’s what I think they do there. I don’t know for sure. After all, I went to the University of Texas for accounting because my dad donated enough money to build them a new library, and I am now fiscally successful as a result. Let this be a warning to all who are thinking about higher education.”

The scene-renowned logo defended his decision to go to college in 1982.

“In life, you must choose between going to college and being financially ruined, or not going to college and oftentimes getting paid less so therefore financially ruined. There are only wrong answers,” said Milo. “Plus, I went to college in the ‘80s when tuition wasn’t nearly as bad as today. They keep jacking up the price for some reason. It’s like our capitalist society wants to profit off of Americans’ desires to succeed monetarily. Yes, the world needs electricians. But you know what? They also need baristas, and you can only do that with a philosophy degree from NYU.”

Experts believed both sides had a tendency to be insensitive toward the other.

“Conservatives can’t help but criticize famous punk mascots and logos, but liberals can also be overly critical of them too,” said political pundit Laura Tesling. “For instance, a left-leaning voter once told the Misfits logo that he should practice mindful meditation because it was looking particularly angered. Another Democrat also once put one of those ‘in this house we believe’ yard signs in his front lawn before petitioning to get the skanking kid from the Circle Jerks logo removed from a homeless shelter that was a few blocks over.”

At press time, Tannenburg found common ground with Milo as they both believe everything sucks.

Missed Connection: You Were Flashing Steel Panther at The Viper Room, I Was Puking In the Trash Can by the Merch Table

BY BEN FRIEDMAN

This is a longshot, but you were at the Steel Panther show at the Viper Room last Saturday. You had blonde hair (real or bleached?), wearing cutoff jean shorts and a Dale Earnhart Jr. tank top. We locked eyes a few times during the set and I feel like we had an ethereal, unspoken connection one can only have during a comedy metal show after several hours of day drinking.

Actually, now that I think about it I’ve just described 80% of the crowd. If it helps to narrow it down further, you were flashing your boobs at the band while I was puking in the trash can next to the merch table.

I think you whipped your tits out during “Poontang Boomerang” or “Asain Hooker” and even though I was seeing double, they looked fantastic. All four of them were perfect. I think one of them was pierced, or that could’ve been my vision blending your ears with your nips as I was sticking my head in the bin. I think you were admiring my party animal aesthetic.

I don’t remember what I was wearing (my pants were missing when I got home) but I know you definitely saw me because I was clinging to the garbage can directly next to the merch table for dear life as the nine Jaegerbombs I had earlier evacuated my stomach. I was forced to buy three shirts because the backsplash from my puke landed on them. But they’re clean now, so if you want we could wear matching tour shirts on our first date.

When I regained the strength to stand on my own again, you were already walking away after the band invited you backstage. I tried complimenting another four other women who looked identical to you with a “show me your tits” chant, but they all told me they had boyfriends. All the more reason you were definitely the one that got away.

I’ll be back at the Viper Room next weekend for the Nikki Sixx show. I’d love to see you and your boobs again, and I’ll try to only drink six Bud Lights, max.

9-Year-Old That Won Local Skateboarding Contest Unsure of What to Do with Case of PBR

BY DREW GIGIS 

CLEVELAND — Local elementary school student Chase Farmer recently found himself in a predicament after winning a skateboarding contest at his local skatepark and being awarded the top prize, a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, concerned sources report.

“I was super stoked when they announced that I had won the contest. I had been practicing that run for weeks, but I was very confused when they handed me a full case of beer,” said Farmer. “I mean don’t get me wrong it felt pretty cool to be nine and pushing beer down the sidewalk on my board, because it was way too heavy to carry, but I have no idea what to do with it. I already kickflipped over it, so what else is there? Honestly, I would have much rather have won third place prize which was a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

Many participants who competed in the contest were also surprised when Farmer was given the beer, including 2nd place winner, 20-year-old Logan Ellington.

“Chase killed it out there, but I do think it was pretty irresponsible to not change the prize for him. Even I know that he’s too young for beer, it would have been better if maybe they had a bucket of fireworks or something as a back up prize for the kid,” explained Ellington. “I wish they would have just given him the bearings I won and the beer to me. I know I’m underage too but I’m like right there, in 8 months I’ll be able to drink legally. Plus I was kind of counting on that case to impress this goth chick, Lilith, who works nights over at Arby’s.”

Farmers’s mother expressed her anger and disgust when he came into the house lugging the 30-pack of beers.

“I couldn’t believe anyone would think that is an appropriate prize. I was beside myself, to allow a child to bring that piss water into my home,” said Mrs. Farmer. “I am ashamed and disappointed that I didn’t raise my son to know better than to accept such an atrocious beer. He should know damn well that this is a Busch Light household, and if he didn’t, he does now. He’s grounded until he learns about quality brewing. I just hope the liquor store will let me exchange it or give me store credit.”

At press time, Farmer’s stepdad, Terry Morse, promised to scrap the aluminum cans and buy him some stickers or something after he crushes them all while watching reruns of “Pawn Stars.”

Five Tips To Make Your Adult League Teammates Be as Competitive and Angry as You

BY CHARLES BILL 

So you’ve signed up for an adult league of a sport. Maybe you played it in high school, maybe you are a big fan of the professional sport. All that you know is that you signed up to win, but your dumbass teammates want to have ‘fun’. Here are five tips to make your adult league teammates as competitive and angry as you.

Give a Patton-esque Pep-talk

The first thing you want to try with your complacent, weak teammates, is to motivate them the old-fashioned way: standing in front of a giant flag with a riding crop. The flag doesn’t necessarily need to be an American one, but if it isn’t, it definitely won’t work as well. Try to evoke a feeling of patriotism and good duty to your teammates, let it be known that the way to win a rec soccer game is by making that other son of a bitch die. You’ll come out of your presentation with a group of ravenous, blood-hungry patriots, ready to destroy some kickball.

Remind Them That They Joined An Adult Recreational League To Win, Not Have Fun

It’s very important that your teammates are in the same frame of mind as you: furious and obsessed with winning to a dangerous degree. You need to go to each and every teammate and remind them that they didn’t join to have a good time with friends, they joined to get irrationally pissed off over small calls that won’t matter in fifteen minutes. Implore them to remember that they’re here for victory, not the simple-minded concepts of bonding and entertainment.

Put A Ten-Thousand Dollar Bounty On Scoring

Admittedly to do this one, you must be quite wealthy. This tip is really quite simple: you tell your teammates that for every point they score they’ll receive a cashier’s check good for ten-thousand American dollars, or fifty-thousand Brazilian real. You’ll have to prove that you have the wealth to do it by sending it to one of your teammates. From then on, it’s a feeding frenzy. Your teammates will be fighting, throwing elbows, everything you ever wanted to see from your Quidditch teammates. Your approval is now an economy.

Frame The Opposing Team For Murder

You’re a competitive person. You play every game as if you’re avenging the death of your brother, so all you have to do is make your teammates play the same way. Kidnap one of your teammate’s loved ones, “Prisoners” style, and put them in a big pit in your backyard. Place the ‘murder’ weapon in one of the opposing team member’s home, and voila! Suddenly your team is fighting tooth and nail for the dub, and you’re loving it. After the fact, you can even release the person from your death pit. You will of course have to murder someone, but big deal, you’ve killed before.

Put Trace Amounts Of PCP In Their Water Bottles

Probably the most practical, and simple to pull off. Simply take a solution of 5% PCP 95% water, and fill a bunch of medical syringes with them. Go around to everyone’s water bottles, injecting the good stuff into them. At your pre-game huddle you suggest a toast of water to stay hydrated. Everyone drinks and next thing you know they’re ripping face and screaming at the opponents that they need to crawl back into their mother’s.