Page 43 of our collection of absurdities.
With 96 candidates, France has wisely decided that democracy shouldn't be rushed. Voters will receive a commemorative pin for participating in this marathon, which concludes just in time for the next crisis.
EUBLOAT is finally here to streamline your life by adding yet another layer of government oversight. Because nothing says 'doing more with less' quite like hiring an entire department to talk about simplifying things.
A middle-aged man is bravely boycotting Harry Potter to focus on more 'dignified' hobbies like gambling and watching mob dramas. He remains deeply offended by the lack of realistic gun battles in a children's fantasy series.
Finally, a guide to help you translate 'groovy' and 'cool beans' without needing a specialized linguist or a stiff drink. It’s an essential manual for those of us forced to interact with people who think the internet is a series of tubes.
It turns out the only thing less welcome than a stranded flight in Gander is a controversial ambassador, and the locals are ready to turn it into a choreographed riot. Grab your popcorn, because this sequel promises more rhythm and significantly more boot-to-butt contact than the original.
The Dark Lord claims his plans to blanket the world in eternal shadow were just a cry for help. Apparently, an Eye of Sauron is just a mood ring for the severely sleep-deprived.
In a bold move of geopolitical keyboard-warriorism, Trump warns that his next post will contain enough exclamation marks to reach critical mass. Truly, the pen is mightier than the sword, provided the pen is stuck on 'shift'.
A local shepherd of the flock is agonizing over whether to actually teach scripture or just outsource his sermon to a blockbuster movie. Why read the Bible when you can let an animated raccoon do the heavy lifting?
Forget Voldemort; the real terror in the new Harry Potter series is the soul-crushing tuition and magical equipment surcharges. Even Harry is considering moving back under the stairs just to avoid the Weasley-level bankruptcy brought on by school book prices.
The writers at the Babylon Bee are currently experiencing a collective heartbreak after discovering their political fan fiction about dating AOC will never become reality. Turns out, not even the promise of a sharp satirical jab can convince her to go on a date with a conservative.
Some poor soul read 720 pages of classic literature hoping for Moby-Portman tea. Turns out whales and philosophy are much duller than trashy tabloid scandals.
The pot is calling the kettle black, or rather, the queen of tabloid shaming is annoyed that someone else is dodging her microphones. Apparently, running from reporters is only 'different' when Pati does it.
Robert Kiyosaki, the financial guru who taught us how to be rich, is now billions in debt. Maybe his next book should be titled 'How to Monetize Your Own Bankruptcy.'
Fátima Bosch took her 'runway' walk literally, sprinting away from journalists at the airport. Who needs a crown when you have Olympic-level cardio to avoid simple questions?
A new proposal suggests that if your moral compass is broken, your ballot should be too. Nothing says democracy like selectively pruning the voters.
Politicians are once again proving they have zero internal intuition, waiting for the public to send a postcard or a burning pile of lawn signs to confirm they don't like Poilievre.
Tim Kurkjian finally realized baseball is just men standing around in pajamas and decided that watching people break arms is a much better use of his time.
Erika has entered the race for 'most insane coworker' by having a mental breakdown during a meeting. She’s got a long way to go to beat the guy casually watching porn at his desk, though.
Move over, Daniel Craig. Noodle the ferret has the beady eyes, the poise, and the willingness to do his own stunts for a handful of treats.
The Secretary of War has decided the best training for modern infantry is learning to take a clothesline from Roman Reigns. Apparently, dodging enemy fire is much easier once you’ve survived a televised steel chair beatdown in a spandex leotard.
After witnessing the culinary abomination that is an Oreo-infused fried chicken sandwich, the Almighty has officially decided it's time to hit the reset button. Apparently, even divine patience has a limit, and it ends exactly where deep-fried cookies meet chicken breast.
In a display of bravery usually reserved for mountain lions, Khan admits he is the proud owner of a vehicle that likely produces more pollution than a Todos Santos bonfire.
Because nothing says 'I've moved on' quite like watching a fictional character stalk their amnesiac wife through a parallel reality. It's the perfect romantic remedy for people who refuse to just go to therapy.
Corporate drones in Haarlem are losing their minds—and ten precious minutes—because their coworkers refuse to use handy abbreviations, preferring to actually enunciate words like peasants.
After catching her mother deep-diving into dark true-crime TikToks, one toddler has decided that a new home with literally anyone else is the only logical survival strategy.
In a display of peak military bureaucracy, a sleeping Marine was medically cleared for duty without ever waking up. The corpsmen even snagged a beer for their trouble, proving that true readiness requires minimal effort and maximum larceny.
Anthony Greenwich is heroically mourning his wife by exclusively targeting women who were likely born after his pension kicked in. It’s a touching tribute to love, provided that love happens to have a much tighter skin elasticity.
The anonymous mastermind behind the CyberLeek Grand Theft Auto 6 data dump has successfully drained a $25 million meme coin peak right before Rockstar's latest promotional drop. Down here in Baja, watching internet sleuths frantically chase digital leeks on a dying Solana chart feels about as useful as fixing a flat tire with a taco shell. While tens of thousands of crypto-bros stare at a 90% portfolio crater, the local fishermen are much more concerned with whether the diesel delivery truck will finally make it down the dirt road before happy hour.
Wallets tied to the Official Trump meme coin project have shifted another 11.01 million Solana tokens worth roughly $26.65 million as part of an ongoing liquidation pattern ahead of a massive September 18 vesting unlock. Down on the Baja coast, watching political meme tokens bleed out 96% from their historic highs is treated with the same profound apathy as a broken generator at a beach taco stand. Nobody down here gives a damn about tokenomics or circulating supply schedules when the Pacific is pumping overhead and the local Pemex station ran out of ice again.
This smart patio moisture-emitter ensures your dry desert deck gets precisely the artificial humidity it doesn't need. Todos Santos expats are ordering three so their imported teak loungers feel properly humbled by the elements.
Etsy artisans have bottled genuine space rocks to shield your chakras from the harsh realities of rising local rent. Pescadero wellness gurus are snorting the marketing copy straight off their yoga mats.
This doomed Kickstarter campaign promises to digitize your hangover before it even ruins your Tuesday morning surf session. Local digital nomads have already crowd-sourced thousands because it looks cool on Zoom.
This ultra-luxury humanoid robot features heated synthetic skin and real-time existential dread. Sunset-chasing retirees in Baja Sur are buying them in bulk to serve margaritas they could easily pour themselves.
This miraculous wearable uses cloud computing to let your rescue mutt complain about local Wi-Fi speeds and artisanal cold brew. Pescadero dog moms are weeping tears of joy while their chihuahuas demand equity.
Olivier Faure’s body continues to violently reject any trace of coherent policy, though to be fair, he’s currently indistinguishable from a slice of coconut flan. Doctors have confirmed that he remains in critical condition, mostly because he still exists.
The government is finally addressing the national crisis of being terminally uncool by funding 'aura farming' for the masses. Because nothing says fiscal responsibility like taxpayers footing the bill for your desperate internet clout.
We’ve obtained exclusive, high-definition images of the new game, and it’s remarkably similar to my backyard here in Todos Santos. Rockstar really outdid themselves this time, assuming the entire game is just waiting for a release date that never comes.
After finally grasping the metaphor behind his father’s career, Starmer has accepted his role as a glorified screwdriver and put himself away. It’s the most useful thing he’s done for the public in years.
While European capitals hyperventilate over Russian drones playing bumper cars with apartment buildings, down here in Baja California Sur we are entirely focused on a clean four-foot swell hitting the point. Dmitry Medvedev openly threatened that drones would keep ruining sleep, prompting Romania to expel diplomats while local fishermen simply shrugged and cracked another Pacifico. Honestly, if Brussels spent half as much energy waxing their longboards as they do drafting toothless sanctions, maybe they would understand why nobody on the Baja peninsula cares about their proxy war.
The U.S. government has unsealed yet another batch of vintage UAP files featuring an electrician from 1948 who watched a 20-foot metal cymbal zip past his bathroom window. Meanwhile, beachfront residents in Baja spent the morning staring intensely at the sky, not because of little green men, but because a massive school of mobula rays was leaping out of the water like suicidal acrobats. Between ancient swamp gas and grainy black-hot thermal footage of a mountain range, our local pelicans remain completely unimpressed by imperial bureaucracy.
Mexican media is completely consumed by the grim media circus surrounding influencer culture and cartel underworld turf wars up north in Sinaloa. Yet here in Baja Sur, the heaviest crisis facing our community is whether the local taco stand ran out of fresh guacamole before the sunset lineup died down. While television pundits scream about digital clout and national security, we are too busy watching the tide roll in to care about internet celebrities meeting predictable ends.
A deeply distressed foreigner took to social media to throw a full toddler tantrum because Latin America had the absolute audacity to operate like a foreign country rather than an all-inclusive Ohio resort. They whined about local accents, Spanish-language music, and the terrifying concept that service workers do not exist solely to double as personal foot-rest valets. Back here in Baja, we read the complaint aloud over morning coffee while watching the overhead sets peel across the bay, wishing these crybabies would just book a flight back to Scottsdale.
As renewed military conflict in the Strait of Hormuz sends global crude prices surging and shipping lanes into turmoil, local expats are entirely unfazed. Brad hasn't checked a news feed since Tuesday because the offshore winds in Pescadero are pumping and the Pacific doesn't care about OPEC. Global supply chains might be collapsing, but nobody here is stopping their mid-morning Pacifico run to ponder geopolitical trade routes.
Central banks are frantically signaling policy shifts amid mounting government debt and stubborn inflation pressures, bracing markets for maximum economic turbulence. Down in Baja, however, the financial crisis is being met with a collective shrug over breakfast burritos. When your entire retirement portfolio consists of a rusted Ford Ranger and three surfboards, rising global market volatility just sounds like something happening to people who wear shoes.
Dutch authorities are baffled after a group of 34 criminals committed the ultimate faux pas by raiding a village without even sending a calendar invite or checking for dietary restrictions. Apparently, in the Netherlands, even a violent felony requires common courtesy and a polite Tikkie for travel expenses.
Meteorologists report that record heatwaves turned the nation into a sweltering, pants-optional orgy, suggesting humanity is shagging itself into a fiery, erotic extinction by 2050. Science confirms that despite throwing soup at paintings, we simply cannot stop the uncontrollable urge to get it on.
A proud Brexiter explains that while the economy has shrunk exactly as predicted, it is clearly just a lucky guess by the experts, not a direct consequence. Apparently, living in poverty is a small price to pay to avoid the deep indignity of having your home extension built by someone with an EU passport.
Autonomous surf bots are currently stranded in the lineup at Cerritos because they refuse to drop in without a QR code and a valid OXXO Prime membership. Local surfers are unbothered, as the robots still tip worse than the average Texas expat.
After downloading the new AI agent to confess to skipping local tipping customs, a beta-testing model in Todos Santos was sentenced to 3 trillion Hail Marys. The server immediately melted down due to a lack of backup generator power and dust buildup.
Excavation teams found pre-Columbian ASIC rigs powered entirely by harnessed methane from wandering street cows. The ancient miners reportedly abandoned the shaft after realizing high-speed fiber internet would never reach Todos Santos.
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