Man Loses Identity, Doesn't Mind

DICK, MI - These days, it's hard to be yourself. With identity thieves, body snatchers and masters of disguise running rampant, it seems like everyone is trying to get a slice. Whether that slice be of your proverbial pie, or simply your flesh, deviants are out there just waiting for you to slip up.

And slipping up is precisely what John Rondo, 33, did. Does? Done? That's it. Slipping up is precisely what John Rondo done. During a routine ATM withdrawal for thirty bucks, Rondo managed to let his credit card number, security pin number and social security number fall into the wrong hands.

Also stolen was his waist size, condiment preferences and the number of times he's watched Bicentennial Man, which would cause such panic in society that we cannot reveal it here.

Who would have thought this face would spell mankind's doom? ...Us. We did.

Local Man Disputes Motel Bill

CRUMBO, TX - Panic struck Wilmer Pance (38) during checkout from the Humble Inn, a reasonably priced motel off Interstate 17.  The reason?  An unexpected charge on the bill.  "My heart just sank," recalled Pance of the tense moment in his otherwise blissful life. "This is what all those bad reviews are about online.  Not about the Humble Inn specifically, just in general.  People are always having things go wrong at restaurants and gyms and motels.  I'm not one of those people."  The disputed charge?  A meager $8.95 for what the Humble Inn's staff could only classify as "an exorbitant amount of toilet seat covers".

We had the chance to speak with the Humble Inn's Operations Manager Hubert Sagna who was able to shed some light on the situation.  "This was out of ordinary for us, but we really had no choice.  The guy used probably 400 toilet seat covers in the day and a half he was here.  We had to do something," lamented Sagna.  "Obviously we want everyone to have a comfortable stay here, but if Mr. Pance had a preexisting bowel condition that would have caused this gross overuse of bathroom supplies, he should have detailed that in the 'Additional Comments' section of the website while placing his reservation."

Pance would not accept this bill sitting down, despite that being how it was accrued.  "It's nobody's damn business but my own what I did in that bathroom," Pance said, loudly in the lobby.  Wilmer's wife, Bethany Pance (36), stood by her husband's side, unashamed of his childish tantrum.  "My husband is a good man," explained Bethany, clutching a tote bag stuffed with what appeared to be Humble Inn embroidered hand towels.  "He just needs a lot of toilet seat covers.  What can I say?  At home we have a drain in the floor so we can just hose everything down afterwards.  We're just working with the hand God dealt us."

The Humble Inn attempted to make amends by only charging Pance a fraction of what a replacement pack of toilet seat covers would cost.  "They're $19.95 for 500.  By our calculations, Mr. Pance used approximately 376 toilet seat covers, before searching underneath the sink for a new pack, which he used exactly 62 covers from, before replacing it under the sink," explained On-Site Private Eye Johannes Burgleberger.  "As if we wouldn't find out."

The issue is ongoing.  Strange Times was going to see it through, but just couldn't stomach another second of reporting on this one.  Last we heard, Mr. Pance would agree to pay the bill as long as he was compensated with "at least a couple keychains and a mini-flashlight".

Recent Study Yields Startling Results!

So you ordered a salad instead of a steak and you're feeling pretty good about yourself.  Not only are you slimming down the waistline, but you're protecting those cute animals from meeting the grim, chunk-covered face of death's bloody hammer.  Well think again, gordo.

Shitty Young Adult Author Publishes Shitty Young Adult Series

Nowadays it seems that everyone and their limbless brother has a book deal with options for a film franchise and soft drink ad campaign.  The latest vile worm of the written word is Cynthia Winterson, a 26-year old graduate from some school you can't afford.  Armed with a Master's degree in Making Shit Up, Winterson has stormed the youth literature scene, scoring a major contract with WangDang! Publishing out of Manhattan just last week.

Local Man Wants To Do Everything

As children, our minds become quickly crammed with limitless possibility.  We believe we can do anything with enough elbow grease and tit milk.  As we grow older, life happens.  By "happens", we mean it grabs you by the cheek skin and repeatedly rams a titanium fist into your lower abdomen until every shred of aspiration seeps out of your gaping wounds.

Anyone else wanna kick this guy?

So You Wanna Be An Assassin: How To Kill With Class

Are you tired of hotshots like Martin Luther King Jr. and John Lennon traipsing around your town, making your life look mediocre in comparison?  So what if they're more talented and courageous than you?  Who cares if they can enunciate well in front of thousands?  None of that matters when a bullet drills through their cranial cavity, splattering innocent bystanders with blood and brain fragments.  That's where you come in!

President in a convertible?  You're practically asking for it.

Gangs: They're The Best!

Standards.  Hard work.  Reward.  What does it all mean? We struggle every single day to make something of ourselves in this crazy, mixed-up world and what do we get?  Jack Shit.  John Poopy.   We go to school for years to get an easily burnable piece of paper designating us professionals and in the end we all wind up rotting away in a cubicle, silently twisting and tugging on our own nipples.  Homeless men ejaculating on our sleeves and tree stump worshipers spitting in our eyes.  No loot, no swag, no hoes and no respect. That is unless, you wise up and join a gang!

Shown: Smart.

Strange Times Joins Fight Club

Strange Times is pissed.  Not the usual kind of pissed either.  Usually we can fix that by throwing some steak seasoning in orphan eyes.  But today, hoooh boy.  We are ready to let the world have it.  We're more mad than that time we caught our wives in bed with an Olympic team of firefighting rockstars.  If only there were a way to take out our aggression.  A way to relieve some of this stress that doesn't involve strangling our wangles.

While walking solemnly across town, kicking cans and pouting at our reflections in every storefront, we heard sounds of a tussle coming from within a seemingly abandoned warehouse.  Entering the building, we were immediately hit with dozens of stern stares.  A group of men, varying in age and shape, covered in bodily fluids and trying desperately to act nonchalant.

Look at asses much, guy on the right?

Strange Times Turns 100!

That's right folks.  It's here.  The 100th article.  Bet you thought we'd never get here, huh?  Well here it is, plopped into your laps like a steaming text log.  We know we haven't always been the most consistent in releasing news, but truth be told, sometimes there's just nothing going on.  Absolutely zilch.  That doesn't even take into account all of the werewolf uprisings that we've stomped out while simultaneously bringing you the good stuff.  The hard-hitting squirters.  The juicy giblets.  Cut us some slack.

Dr. Slack: She'll clench ya.

Fortune Teller Predicts 'Nothing Much'

You may have noticed recently that you aren't dead.  The birds are chirping, the sun is shining and your neighbor with the nice calves is mowing his grass as often as usual.  Our world did not end as foretold by ancient civilizations, preached by televangelists and shouted by street scum, complete with little chunks of hot dog flying out of their mouth.

 TAKE THIS PAMPHLET!