Page 78 of our collection of absurdities.
California reminds voters that they have a whole month left to cast their ballot for an election that already happened last Tuesday, proving efficiency is just a suggestion.
Young Adrian is having a follicularly-challenged morning, lamenting that his 'do' isn't quite hitting the cruciferous mark. Perhaps a nature documentary is in order.
In a stunning electoral upset, Spencer Pratt has achieved a voting record previously thought impossible, surpassing even the most pessimistic predictions. Apparently, the people have spoken... very, very negatively.
Sources confirm that a local fashionista's perpetually stylish attire is less a statement of her career and more a permanent fixture of her indolent existence. Her outfit is on point, her productivity is not.
Feeling a twinge of guilt? Fear not! This groundbreaking guide offers revolutionary techniques for brain surgery, ensuring your moral compass is permanently offline. Who needs ethics when you have a tidy neural landscape?
Overwhelmed by an abundance of Gabriels and Louises, a French kindergarten has resorted to assigning unique numbers to each child via bracelets. Parents are divided: some find it efficient, while others question the point of picking names at all.
In a groundbreaking display of journalistic priorities, ABC newspaper buried the news of Florentino Pérez's Real Madrid election victory in a tiny corner, sandwiched between a hair loss cure ad and an article on seasonal allergies.
Forget ultrasounds, a new British method uses computational models to determine a fetus's gender by analyzing its future salary. Apparently, womb-dwelling economists are already figuring out their retirement plans.
Dutch football manager Dick Advocaat reportedly gave a rousing team talk to Curaçao, questioning if they were facing Aruba or a kindergarten class. One can only imagine the tactical genius that followed.
After the wind did its usual thing and wrecked his latest masterpiece, artist JR decided his art needed more structural integrity. His new plan? Encasing the Pont-Neuf in concrete, because why just decorate when you can build a whole new bridge?
After hanging out with real estate moguls, Smokey Bear has 'evolved' his stance on wildfires, deciding they're not *all* bad. Apparently, destruction has a 'nuanced role' in healthy ecosystems, especially for those who profit from it.
Scientists have successfully transplanted pig foreskin onto a circumcised man, offering hope for 'terminally circumcised' individuals. Sadly, the new appendage only lasted 93 days, proving some things are better left au naturel.
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.'
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