Satire for emotionally resilient adults
The FDA said the words “cardiovascular risk reduction” and somewhere in Omaha a man in a quarter-zip started printing memos. The beef lobby’s plan: if customers can only finish half a burger, simply make the burger twice as big.
A 76-minute breakdown in a third-floor restroom stall produced the highest step count in company history, and Human Resources would like it for the newsletter.
A man’s social media gets too personal after a tech glitch; social media giants are ironically blamed for ruining his social-life detachment.
Globex Inc.’s fishbowl conference room is mainly used for employee job interviews, as evidenced by 92% of its bookings for secret career moves.
A four-term congressman workshops one devastating line in a parking garage, deploys it, and adjourns before anyone can ruin it with a response.
The bond market has correctly predicted nearly every economic catastrophe of the last fifty years and has never once been booked on a podcast. It has no face, no villain arc, and no merch line, which is why the country would rather hear from a shirtless man about silver.
Photo ID proves you exist and the selfie proves you’re awake, but only a notarized affidavit can prove you actually want to see the band. Loyalty members, sources say, can buy their way out of sincerity for forty bucks.
A man who has purchased nearly every asset class on earth spent Tuesday discovering that each one comes with a form, and that the form wants his actual hand. By 4 p.m. he was at the DMV holding number 114.
The Treasury Secretary opened with a full admission that no one, including him, could explain the new economic tactics. Bond yields moved eleven basis points anyway, on the strength of one word and a kitchen sponge.
A leaked valuation deck puts the Cowboys at $15.5 billion, roughly $500 million per playoff win since 1996 — a tidy figure that requires thirty-one playoff wins. Dallas has five, and sources say the other twenty-six live in a blue spreadsheet tab labeled ALMOST.