Page 21 of our collection of absurdities.
In a groundbreaking study on marital relations, one man decided to give kissing his wife a try. The results are in: it's still a thing people do.
In a world where robotaxis are the future, Spain's army is still struggling to recruit, perhaps they should consider automatic soldiers? Also, Princess Leonor's parachute jump and the Catholic youth trend are discussed, because why not.
Apparently, Pedro Sanchez is the king of cool, at least according to a poll taken at a music festival. Forget policy, who has the best vibe for the youth vote?
In a stunning display of military logic, an entire platoon met their maker by forming up right after a missile strike. Apparently, 'the Army way' of counting heads involves becoming one with the dust.
Turns out RFK Jr. milk is not a health elixir, but a gastrointestinal nightmare. Who knew milk produced by a politician's body could cause such... a reaction?
A Dutch snack bar owner has ingeniously introduced 'dynamic pricing' for his fries and other goodies, meaning prices fluctuate based on demand. Prepare to pay premium for your frikadellen during peak snack attacks, because if Harry Styles tickets can surge, why not your herring?
In a stunning display of self-absorption, a French MEP nodded off during a live TV interview after talking about himself for two minutes straight. He woke up 19 hours later, claiming the power nap invigorated him for his presidential ambitions, before promptly falling asleep again.
Researchers have declared 22 the prime age for phone ownership, bafflingly suggesting younger brains are too fragile and older ones too scammable. Apparently, at 22, you're perfectly positioned to waste your life scrolling, but at least you might get rejected on a dating app like a normal person.
Spain's tourism board is rolling out the welcome mat for Brits eager to laugh at the displaced elite who can't make it to Dubai this summer. Come, witness firsthand their despair over subpar skyscrapers and the lack of gold-leaf cappuccinos, it's the ultimate schadenfreude vacation!
Apparently, Madrid's strict noise regulations are so deafening that even the Pope's holy pronouncements would be drowned out. His Holiness, Pope León XIV, has to skip the Bernabéu because, bless his heart, he can't find a parish without a scandal. Priorities, you know.
Nation's bosses have decreed that the moment you sit down to do your business, that's prime time for a Teams call about something utterly trivial. Apparently, our last bastion of peace, the porcelain throne, is now just another office cubicle.
The UN, in a move of sheer desperation, is trying to find an island to gift Trump so he'll finally stop demanding new real estate. They're even considering making one up, because clearly, 'strategic importance' is just a fancy word for 'somewhere to put him'.
Feeling creatively stifled? Just tell your relatives you're an actor on a completely fictitious, possibly non-existent TV show. Apparently, nobody watches CBS's 'Marshals,' making it the perfect low-risk, high-reward career move for aspiring actors and liars alike. IMDb credits are optional, but highly recommended for full immersion.
Forget romance, young Britons are forming throuples to combat the cost of living crisis, proving that shared streaming subscriptions and snuggling for warmth are the ultimate aphrodisiacs. Who needs passion when you have Tesco Clubcard points and can split the council tax?
Due to political tensions, Iran's World Cup team must leave the US for tea breaks in Mexico. Apparently, even the mighty US State Department can't handle a nation's soccer stars stepping away for a cuppa.
Kanye West's show was remarkably calm, aside from Kanye West himself causing a stir. The venue spokesperson assured everyone that one man spouting Nazi rhetoric is just a minor hiccup in a sea of 34,000 fans.
After years of silence, Fugazi returns not with music, but with prank calls. Apparently, making prank calls is the new punk rock, and Pitchfork is already calling it a visionary masterpiece.
A 19-year-old's found-footage horror flick grossing $141 million has convinced legions of teenagers that their lazy efforts will also lead to riches. Parents, prepare for more 'artistic' endeavors fueled by TikTok vibes.
In a shocking turn of events, Spain, a nation known for its... let's call it 'relaxed' relationship with organized religion, has apparently rolled out the red carpet for the Pope. Who knew secularism was so flexible? Apparently, even lawyers and Christians are safe from this particular brand of holy visitation.
Forget phishing for your bank details; these clever criminals are aiming for your precious peepers! Just mail them your eyeballs, and you might get Matthew Rhys's in return – a truly fair exchange, or so they claim. Remember, if it sounds too good (or creepy) to be true, it probably involves international eyeball trafficking.
This week's horoscope promises thrilling activities like shark-infested aquabiking, the dramatic molting of French politicians, and a HR department with a rather extreme exit strategy. Apparently, being a furry is also back in vogue, much to everyone's confusion.
In a move that has shocked absolutely no one who reads satire sites, the Daily Squib has bravely announced that the war is, in fact, still on. Israel is apparently 'pushing forward' in its campaign, because nothing says 'progress' like a well-timed news bulletin from a parody outlet.
Tired of actual medicine? For a small fee, some benevolent soul on Etsy will 'Banish Illness' with a spell, cleansing your aura and restoring spiritual health. It's the perfect metaphysical cure for that mysterious rash you picked up from the cenote, or simply a way for expats to feel 'connected' without having to interact with anyone offering actual help. Just click, pay, and pretend you're healed.
In a world rife with actual problems, a fellow once raised over $55,000 for a potato salad. No, not a gourmet, truffle-infused, heirloom potato salad. Just... potato salad. It's the kind of glorious, pointless endeavor that makes you question everything, yet perfectly explains why some expats here will fund anything that promises to be 'ironic' or 'a statement.' They'll talk about it for weeks, while actual local initiatives go unnoticed.
Feast your eyes, peasants, on the Unitree GD01, a transforming mech suit priced at a cool $650,000. Because why just *drive* a luxury SUV when you can *pilot* a ten-foot-tall robot to pick up your organic kale from the market? This is precisely what the Pescadero elite have been waiting for – a vehicle that screams 'I'm more powerful than your entire family, and I have absolutely nowhere important to go.' Just imagine the Instagram reels.
Finally, a beanie that claims to read your thoughts and type them out at a blistering 30 words per minute. Imagine the possibilities! No more awkward small talk at the Todos Santos coffee shop; just silently judge everyone's questionable fashion choices while your beanie broadcasts your inner monologue to a Google Doc. It’s perfect for the expat who wants to engage with the world, but only on their own terms, and without moving their mouth.
Finally, a curved sofa for your outdoor oasis that costs more than a perfectly good truck. Because nothing says 'I've truly arrived in Baja' like reclining on thirty-five thousand dollars worth of imported wicker, pretending you can hear the ocean over the hum of your personal AC unit. The expats in Todos Santos will be absolutely beside themselves, wondering if their own artisanal palapa furniture is sufficiently *bespoke* enough to compete.
In a move that has meteorologists scratching their heads and sailors sighing, Quebec's new language law dictates all hurricanes must be named 'Jean-Pierre'. Apparently, 'Andrew' or 'Katrina' just aren't French enough for their breezy shores.
In a move that surprised absolutely no one who's ever watched South American football, Argentina received a 'gift' penalty right before the World Cup. Apparently, the referee thought a friendly match was the perfect time to practice their traditional 'gift-giving' ceremony, ensuring an easy 1-0 lead against Honduras.
Our fearless leader, Commissar Reeves, gleefully announces his masterful economic strategy: drive the nation into a trillion-dollar ditch and call the IMF for a piggyback ride. Who needs fiscal responsibility when you have bragging rights for bankruptcy?
In a stunning display of marital communication, a man from Utrecht decided the best response to being called 'toxic' was, well, to poison his partner. Experts are now weighing in, confirming that arsenic is indeed a rather 'red flag' ingredient in any relationship, especially post-spaghetti bolognese.
A local punk, tired of expensive guitars and the effort of zine-making, has discovered his true calling: the glorious, maddening racket of pickleball. He's trading ripped jeans for athletic wear, apparently seeking anarchy one repetitive *thwack* at a time, much to the chagrin of his HOA.
A Dutch grandmother, Oma Geertje, is steadfast in her 27-minute broccoli boiling tradition, transforming the vibrant vegetable into an unidentifiable brown mush. Her grandchildren, having surrendered to the mushy fate, now politely accept their fate, leaving Oma to her legacy of overcooked greens.
This employee argues that their chronic lateness is justified by the vital, time-intensive ritual of crafting the perfect 'get psyched' playlist for their commute. Apparently, navigating the emotional rollercoaster from Solsbury Hill to Kendrick Lamar requires more than mere minutes, and frankly, the company's productivity depends on it.
Authorities kindly reminded His Holiness that while sing-alongs on public transport are welcome, impromptu theological debates between Catholics and Evangelists are strictly prohibited in the subway cars. Apparently, even divine intervention can't compete with rush hour crowds.
In a shocking display of productivity, a centipede has become the highest contributing member of a punk house by eating a termite. Meanwhile, the human residents remain remarkably unfazed by both the infestation and their own utter lack of ambition.
For the bargain price of $650,000, Unitree offers a ten-foot-tall, half-ton transforming mech. Forget navigating dirt roads to your beachfront property; with the GD01, you can crush them. Our Todos Santos elite will finally have a vehicle truly suited for their colossal egos, proving once and for all who has the biggest... robot. Just remember the disclaimer: 'Please everyone be sure to use the robot in a Friendly and Safe manner.'
The PettiChat real-time pet translator, boasting a questionable 94% accuracy, lets your furry companion articulate their innermost thoughts. Imagine the relief for Todos Santos dog moms, finally understanding that 'Woof!' actually meant, 'My organic, grain-free kibble is locally sourced, but my soul yearns for the artisanal chorizo you just ate.' Now you can reply, 'Later, sweetie, Mama's on a Zoom call about manifesting abundance.'
Why merely meditate when you can orchestrate your very existence? This 'master healer' crystal singing bowl set, costing more than a decent used car, guarantees to vibrate your deepest insecurities right out of your aura. Perfect for the Pescadero wellness guru who needs to cleanse their ocean-front casita's energy field of bad Wi-Fi and the lingering scent of last night's artisanal mezcal. The healing power is in the price tag, obviously.
Ah, 'The Doom That Came to Atlantic City,' a board game so ambitious, it scammed $122,000 before vanishing faster than a 'sustainable' pop-up vegan restaurant. Expats here will appreciate the sheer audacity; it’s like their own failed dreams of opening a boutique hotel, but with more Cthulhu and less actual construction. At least this one came with a thrilling sense of betrayal.
For a mere $35,240, the Boomerang Curved Sofa promises to solve the pressing issue of linear lounging. Our Todos Santos expats, whose lives are already a perfectly curated loop of yoga and kombucha, will find its conversational architecture absolutely essential for discussing their spiritual journeys and how 'authentic' Baja California Sur truly is. Who needs straight lines when your enlightenment is so... fluid?
In a groundbreaking decision, Salem parents aborted their unborn child, citing the overwhelming burden of potential happiness as the primary reason. Apparently, this baby was destined for a life so blissful, it simply couldn't cope. We salute their proactive approach to preventing joy.
Our fearless leader, Prime Minister Mark Carney, has gifted us a brilliant AI strategy. Apparently, it's the most advanced method to efficiently transfer all Canadian dollars straight into the pockets of American tech barons. Get ready for a future where five Silicon Valley titans own absolutely everything!
Pippa's 29-year-old suitor plans an evening of intense architectural appreciation, promising to meticulously explore one corner of a room, detailing its exquisite plaster and eggshell white walls. Pippa is thrilled by this slow-burn, corner-by-corner approach to romance, praising his masterful teasing and foreplay skills.
In a bold move, Alberta separatists have outlined their post-Canada wish list, which includes retaining passports, currency, and that special Canadian smugness. Apparently, leaving the country doesn't mean giving up the good stuff, especially those tiny flags to prove they're not American.
Forget the usual 100-night trial, this mattress brand wants you to 'test' their product for 100 days of *active* use. If your love life doesn't sync up with the springs, just send it back – apparently, it's 'just good friends'.
A 35-year-old woman, Jessica, is creatively shielding her private emojis from followers by strategically placing her baby in front of them. Apparently, the peach and eggplant emojis are just too revealing for public consumption.
Forget the subway, Brooklyn and Queens now offer spontaneous manhole pop-ups featuring men with questionable life goals. Officials warn against sewer spelunking, while others ponder the potential for a mysterious sewer women's league.
In a shocking turn of events, the Chicago Bears are packing their bags, as the city's entire population, including players, coaches, and fans, have met a rather abrupt end. Apparently, Chicago's streets are a bit too 'drive-by' friendly for football.
Heaven's top sinner, St. Paul, has apparently decided enough is enough. He's stepping down from his title after discovering the latest alleged sins committed by one Graham Platner, proving even saints have their limits.
The Pesky Toad is free and ad-light. If you find it useful, toss a few pesos in the tip jar to help keep the servers running and the satire flowing.
