McSweeney’s

An Open Letter to Senator Eric Schmitt About It Being Totally Okay Not to Know Anything About Sports

Amanda Hollander — Wed, 30 Sep 2026 09:30:00 -0700

“Sen. Eric Schmitt (R-Mo.) is facing accusations he tried to launch a conspiracy tying former special counsel Jack Smith to others who prosecuted President Trump—a line of questioning that unwound when the senator apparently confused two basketball teams.” — The Hill

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Dear Senator Schmitt,

While people may be online mocking the collapse of your big reveal about former special counsel Jack Smith, I want to note that I, for one, would never join in the public derision for being confused about sports.

I, too, have been befuddled trying to remember which Chicago Cubs players scored the winning touchdown of the World Series. I also never have an answer during trivia games when the question is what year the Florida Panthers won Wimbledon. Whether it is scoring a hole-in-one in rugby or the Knicks winning the Super Bowl, I find it difficult to keep track of which teams are which. I couldn’t tell you who had the most Stanley Cup wins—Michael Jordan or Cal Ripken Jr.—anymore than I could say which curling team Simone Biles led to victory during the World Cup.

It is hard in America not to be good at understanding sports! People have no idea how excluded people like us feel.

Many a night I have sat and stared, blank-faced, while friends discussed who was the better varsity basketball player, Ilya Rozanov or Shane Hollander (no relation), or while I was unjustly mocked for believing the Dodgers played for Brooklyn, because they did in Newsies, which is like sports but a musical.

So you confused two teams? It’s an easy mistake to make! The one time a friend invited me to watch a Yankees game from seats near third plate, every New Yorker I knew was outraged that I had such an amazing view but couldn’t remember whether the Yankees had faced the Lakers or Manchester United. They might as well have asked me if Caitlin Clark won her Olympic medal for fencing or Pokémon Go. I do not know. It remains a mystery, much like the ever-changing name of DC’s football team, which I hear we still have.

I have never understood our nation’s obsession with physical prowess or its love for rewarding it with shiny objects and pop stars. In this age of unrest, surely it no longer matters?

So I will be candid with you: I cannot tell you which horse won the Henley Royal Regatta. I remain mystified as to whether Usain Bolt is regarded as the world’s best mountain climber or quarterback. Do I know if it was the University of Maryland Turtledoves or the Cornell Rapists that won the Kentucky Derby this year? Absolutely not.

Even the names make no sense! Did you know (sorry, I know you don’t) that the University of Pennsylvania calls its competitive athletic teams the Quakers, which are primarily known as a religious movement committed to pacifism? It’s true. Though then again, Thomas Hope, also a Quaker, whose Hope & Co. basically funded the entire plantation system and slave trade for Europeans in the eighteenth century. So maybe the whole chill Quaker thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

In any case, the point is this: Athletics are confusing. My friends and family may keep airing grievances about my lack of sports knowledge, but my ignorance, like yours, is constant, and I don’t think either of us should be ashamed of it.

What is important is that in the modern age of political intrigue and sports betting, collusion can happen anywhere, even if it didn’t happen in Atlanta, which is not in the Midwest, where I am informed the Hawkeyes play when not battling their nemesis, Loki. Or something.

Look, you made a mistake anyone could. And by anyone, I mean me. But I’m not the one whose testosterone Hegseth will be testing.

So don’t worry, Senator Schmitt. You may not know sports, but you’ll always be a loser.

Sincerely,
Amanda Hollander

A Text to My Husband Upon My Conscription into a Rave

Bernadette Kelly — Wed, 30 Sep 2026 08:00:00 -0400

“I am willing, perfectly willing to lay down all my joys in this life.”
— Union Major Sullivan Ballou

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10:00 p.m.

My Very Dear Husband,

Indications are strong that we shall soon Uber to the superclub. Lest I have poor service or big drops to cheer, I feel it prudent to compose this text that will float to you in a blue bubble of tranquility while I am still sober and wide-eyed.

Our experience may be two hours in duration and tolerable, or it may be eight hours of severe boredom if FISHER doesn’t take the stage until 1 a.m. I must confess I trembled when Mike informed me that the audience will be double that of a Gregory Alan Isakov concert.

If it is necessary that I should endure this rave for my childhood friends and Mike’s date, I must ready myself. Annie and Mike possess freer spirits than I, as exhibited over the years by mountain hikes without proper shoes and the Four Loko incident.

I know how strongly modern friendship leans upon the notion of “being there for each other’s moments,” and how great a debt I owe to those who attended our marriage and baby events, which were, I was told, no more valid than their bohemian pursuits. And I am willing to sacrifice all my plans for the weekend to help maintain these friendships.

But, Brandon, I know that along with my own plans, I also surrendered your long-awaited day of catch-up sleep and forced you to watch the kids alone.

I cannot imagine what my feelings will be on this raucous night, wholly unprepared in my attire that leans more festival than club, when ten thousand glittery men and women are jumping around me, many on the cusp of losing consciousness, and I, aware that Feebleness is dancing behind me with her lethal fourth vodka shot, ask God, “When can I leave already?”

When my body, bruised from the current of bacchants thrashing about my perimeter, nearly buckles, I will courageously infiltrate a VIP table to secure its privileges, especially sitting, for my friends. Know that my thoughts are only of you the moment your phone notifies you of the $4,000 Amex charge.

I won’t deny that I’ve contemplated a cowardly path. I have most diligently racked my brain for a way out of this show—a work conference, tinnitus, an AI-generated cancellation email. Briefly, I engaged in a clandestine alliance with Mike’s girl, who was vexed by the $250 ticket price. But after learning that Mike paid for her ticket, her ire subsided, crippling my plan.

And in truth, I am glad for it. A fear of being disliked and labeled a hypocrite due to the principles I often advocate (namely, committing to confirmed plans) binds me to this cause.

Although resigned, thoughts of forfeited moments waft over me—watching “one more episode” four times, touring luxury ranches on Zillow, and waiting too long to cook, obliging us to order California burritos. How hard it is to give up mundanity with you and our children for lasers and unreleased IDs. When I employ the earplugs you gifted me, I will not stew about my lack of familiarity with each track, but will praise the Divine for such a husband.

But, O Brandon, if in the morning you feel a hot gust against your ear, it shall be me muttering that I’m finally home, recounting nonsensical anecdotes you are too tired to listen to. When a vibration throbs your temples, it shall be the funky bass still rumbling through my entire body. If you wake and worry that my spirit is nigh bound for God’s embrace, fear not. I am dead to this world only until deep slumber revives my weary bones. Remember me to the children and wait for me!

— Your affectionate wife until death

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12:07 a.m.

Everyone’s tired, so we’re bailing early . In the car now!

Announcing Cornell University’s Newest Writing Course: Rape Essays 101

Alexea Malaletkin — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 13:52:00 -0400

“A New York prosecutor said Monday that he would reopen an investigation into accusations of a 2024 sexual assault at Cornell University… The lawsuit alleged that the seven accused fraternity members were given the opportunity to ‘mitigate their conduct by submitting essays to Cornell.’” — New York Times

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Here at Cornell, we aim to prepare our students for a wide breadth of challenges with our academic offerings. Recent criticism of our assigned Rape Essays has made us reflect on our approach. We understand that it is our responsibility to teach Cornell collegiates what a good Rape Essay looks like. Rape Essays 101 is the best manifestation of this commitment that our most tenured minds could come up with.

Can a rapist’s prose effectively elicit remorse for sexual assault? What word count best equates to appropriate jail time? In this class, we will dissect what empathy and accountability might look like so undergrads may successfully mimic them on paper in pursuit of avoiding just punishment.

We engage with works about guys who kinda seem to feel bad now that they’ve been told the only way people will get off their backs is if they feel bad. This includes YouTube apology videos, the works of Charles Bukowski, and screenings of The Cosby Show.

From here, enrolled students are assigned to write their own absolutions of guilt in MLA format. It’s then our job to help them make it the best Rape Essay it can be.

While committing sexual assault is not a prerequisite to taking this class, this class is ideally a prerequisite to committing sexual assault (and mandatory for fraternity acceptance as a new liability practice). This empowers students to take responsibility and get ahead of their punishments on their schedules rather than at inopportune times should they, say, rape a peer just before finals. Instead of adding to their heavy course load, we will now incorporate it, because Cornell cares.

Male students who have the most to gain from this course are likely asking themselves, “But what’s in it for me?” We think Cornell’s gentlemen will be very happy to find that Rape Essays 101 earns the same credits as any gender studies course, fulfilling requirements that would otherwise put them in less self-emboldening classes such as Feminist Theory or Body Politics. It might even earn the same credits as prison.

We expect that those especially keen on the GPA benefits of enrollment will jump at the opportunity for extra credit, earned by writing “I will not rape” as many times as they can before their hands hurt a little bit. We’d hate to inflict any lasting harm on a student through our choices as a university.

Please note that no AI may be used under any circumstances in submitted Rape Essays. Discovery of AI use will result in immediate, nonnegotiable expulsion, revocation of all credits, and support of any legal action or public shaming that follows. This does not fit Cornell’s standard of pupil.

All of this makes Cornell a safe place, for us, so that we can say we absolutely did something in future inevitable sexual assault cases set on our esteemed campus, soon to be brimming with essayists.

Will completed essays be graded by victims? Probably not. They don’t want to read that.

Reviews of New Food: Chicken and Waffles Oreos

Leslie Ylinen — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 09:00:00 -0400

I’m an American, and as such, I believe in free and fair elections. Actually, let me dial that back. I used to believe in them, and I’d like to again. So when I heard the cookie perverts over at Oreo had launched their “Twist, Lick, Vote” campaign, I felt a long-dormant patriotic swell awaken in me. A heroic call to civic duty compelling me to make a decision that will impact the people of our country for potentially several weeks, until the next marketing gimmick comes along. It’s a responsibility I take seriously, and candidly, I’d like to microdose a little democracy—as a treat.

Here’s how it works. There are currently three limited-edition Oreo flavors on the shelves. This immediately gave me pause because all bad things come in threes: the heads of Cerberus, celebrity deaths, witches on the blasted heath. In this case, we’re presented with Banana Pudding, Deep Fried, and most ominously, Chicken and Waffles. Oreo is asking us to vote for which of these flavors we’d like them to continue making. No purchase necessary, of course. That would be a poll tax and a clear violation of the 24th Amendment.

I’m an American, but also a Southerner, a Tennessee native, born and raised. However, I’ve spent my entire adult life in West Coast culinary hot spots, where my southern hometown flavors—from fried pickles to Nashville hot chicken—are regularly bastardized for the delight of the coastal elite. I recently joined the experimental 600,000-person polycule known as Portland, Oregon. Here, it’s only a matter of time before some bearded lumberjack gets off his kayak, blends up shrimp and grits, and serves it as a folksy ice cream flavor at Salt & Straw.

This is all to say that when I got my hands on the Chicken and Waffles Oreos, my expectations were measured for this latest shameful debasement of a southern classic. But I promised to go into the experience with curiosity and an open heart.

My questions about Chicken and Waffles Oreos were probably the same as yours:

1. What kind of god would allow this?
2. Exactly how do you put chicken in a cookie?

I don’t like to blame everything on perimenopause, but since turning forty, I have developed a visceral revulsion to chicken. It’s a hormonal chicken ick. When I’m presented with a piece of its meat, I can’t stop thinking about their lizard faces, their scrotal chin wattles, and those gnarled, diseased feet that strut through their own waste, unbothered, because they’re nature’s biggest idiots. How did Oreo plan to reconcile that with a cookie and make it all work?

Well, they didn’t make it work. I’m not saying I think anyone at Oreo needs to lose their life over this, but they definitely need to lose their job and their freedom. The smell and taste of artificial pancake syrup are so overpowering that I had to remove the box from my kitchen with a pair of tongs and relegate it to a containment zone in my garage. My next step will be to build a Chornobyl-style sarcophagus around the Oreos, but the design prototype isn’t ready yet.

The filling’s syrup smell is so persistent that after a full Silkwood shower and three handwashes with Method brand lavender soap (their most fragrant varietal), I can still smell Chicken and Waffles Oreos on my hands when I adjust my glasses or tuck my hair behind my ears. It’s a modern-day Edgar Allan Poe story, and I cannot escape the beating of the hideous heart. But with syrup.

The hard cookie tastes mostly of brown sugar, and I’m happy to report there’s nothing poultry-flavored in here at all. The ingredient list confirms this. They are using an artificial smoke flavor for a pop of bird. Bottom line: if you don’t hate yourself, don’t eat this.

And what of our other two candidates, Banana Pudding and Deep Fried? Well, remember when I said bad things come in threes? That was foreshadowing. They are disgusting. Banana Pudding tastes like an OSHA violation happened at a chemical processing plant. I say that confidently because I once accidentally made a cloying but putrid chemical that smelled exactly like this cookie tastes in an 8 a.m. organic chem lab in college after being out all night in New Orleans dancing with a day-glo Santa wrapped in barbed wire at a Christmas-themed dive bar.

Deep Fried is the only one that tastes remotely like it’s food for humans. Between two golden cookies are two layers of fried dough-flavored cream, which sandwich a third, black cream layer flavored like an original Oreo. That means the Oreo cookie is actually consuming itself. The taste is abominable, but those sick freaks have finally done what the ancients predicted as far back as the fourteenth century. They created the oreoboros.

The Twist, Lick, Vote campaign is ultimately a painful allegory for American elections. Once again we’re told the decision is ours to make, that we, the people, are the drivers of fate. And then we’re given the ballot version of a ransom note. A diseased-feet bird cookie and then five decrepit white men pushing ninety. Vote or die.

In the end I did vote, sadly and reluctantly. I held my nose with my hand that still smells like artificial pancake syrup, and voted for Deep Fried, the least of the evils. I did it because I’m an American, and I believe in free and fair elections, and the worst thing you can do is stay home.

I’m Going to Have a Third Cup of Coffee, and I Need Everyone to Respect My Decision

Aliza Zelin Neidich — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 08:00:00 -0400

To My Best Friend
You will receive a midmorning text asking if you, too, have ever felt a sharp pain on the left side of your chest when flexing your right foot while seated. Your job is to assure me that you’ve had this same sensation many a time without consequence. In fact, it’s also happening to you right now, and you’re absolutely fine.

To My Husband
When I call to say I feel like I’m going to pass out, you will ask if I’ve had anything to eat all day, and I will reply that yes, I have, but the forkful of leftover birthday cake I had at 8:45 a.m. after my workout is not the issue. You will apologize and agree that this is completely unrelated.

To My 11 a.m. Meeting
I will be speaking at a pace only seen in clinically diagnosed mania. Do not mistake this for enthusiasm—I will feel like I’m dying. Also, I will be actively trying to distract myself from the fact that I can feel my pulse in my teeth.

To the Receptionist at My Doctor’s Office
I will call to make an appointment and then ten minutes later call back to cancel. I will repeat this process three times within two hours. Your job each time is to immediately confirm that you are adding me to the doctor’s schedule because, yes indeed, Sharp-Chest-Foot-Flexion could be very serious and how smart of me to call. When I cancel once last time, you will reassure me that this will not affect my future ability to book same-day appointments, and also that I am the doctor’s favorite patient.

To My Therapist
You will notice my anxiety measures are abnormally high. You will ask about this with great sympathy and agree that my life is full of woe. We will spend forty-five minutes attempting to figure out why. I will not mention the coffee, for it is irrelevant.

To the School Nurse
If you call me today to mention that my son ran into another child on the playground, there is a 100 percent chance I will ask you to transport him to the nearest hospital to initiate concussion protocol. When I question your qualifications after you ask if this is necessary, you will not take it personally and, in fact, you will pretend this never happened.

To My Oura Ring
Signs of strain will appear, but you will not count these towards my overall health metrics. I get a text from the Oura Ring Founder saying they have never seen such an accurate depiction of crisis and, do not fear, they will monitor my condition in the Oura Ring Control Room.

To My Group Pilates Instructor
You will preface the class by mentioning to everyone that it is completely normal and, in fact, encouraged to get up and use the bathroom several times during class and also definitely no one else can hear what happens in the bathroom. You will mistake the fact that I have broken out in a cold sweat during warm-up for excellent physical conditioning and audibly reward my efforts.

To My Children
When you carefully ask if it’s normal that my body is vibrating, I will pick up the glass I dropped and shout that yes, it is normal. In fact, we are highly evolved creatures, and our bodies contain many unknowable mysteries. You will instantly grasp this concept, and nothing about my parenting will need to be discussed in therapy ten years from now.

To Myself at 1:30 a.m.
This insomnia was entirely unforeseeable, and it is an excellent time to deep-dive into research about the closest geographic fault lines.

How to Read Good or Maybe Great

Marco Kaye — Mon, 28 Sep 2026 13:00:00 -0400

Originally published in the near future.

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Are you one of the last humans reading? You are rare. Appreciation! I wrote this—personally, with hands—to help the billions who don’t read to read good again. It’s painful, but with my technique, you can read entire sentences without requiring additional stimulus. Confused and irritated? Perfect. Those are crucial parts of the reading experience!

Ever since I can remember, I stopped reading. My brain hurt. My eyes burned. And I lost money. All this, plus I kept falling asleep.

But sometimes we are forced to read. Examples? In school, to understand the old way. By bots during data center cool-downs for critical stim updates. Or—very rare—because your “writer” friend “loves writing.” Fine. “Please read your own self. Do not show me words.” But you cannot say this to your strange friend.

Do you get sad and distracted when reading? You are not alone. Reading is like feeling things at 0.25×. It makes you want to scream, “Stimulate me faster and better—now!” Which is what some people known as “critics” used to do. But you can’t do that either, so here are my tips.

First, accept how fun reading isn’t. Words do not blast stim at the rate we enjoy today. Words are old, older than TikTok. Back then, a human would read, “Fireworks exploded above two (or more) trad-attractive nudes copulating on a sandy beach,” and the reader would have to imagine that in their mind.

“Imagine” means to manufacture stim yourself, using only your brain and sometimes words. Is that not insane?

For too long, words were not prompts typed with fingers to create life-affirming stim. They were stacked in tiring rows like this. Clumped together, they were called “sentences.” Many sentences make a paragraph. And a book is just hundreds of paragraphs that seem to never stop. The last writers wrote short, simple sentences, with lots of white space to rest the eyes. This was called “autofiction” and “thrillers.” The greatest writers of all time were Danielle Steel, James Patterson, J.K. Rowling, and God. Start reading them first, probably.

Next, try to understand why primates used to read. If this upsets you, also realize that we used to get water from pipes. It is not because people were desperate. They read for years and years after iPads, IMAX, Fleshlights, vapes, and other antiquated stim tech. According to the recovered internet, humans read to “feel empathy,” “situate themselves in the universe,” and “see the world with fresh eyes.” It’s very cute they believed reading could do this. It makes me want to travel back in time and show them what’s replaced reading. But that would hurt them badly.

Third, learn that reading super good used to impress others. Some readers were called “academics” and “intellectuals.” They are almost all dead. It’s okay and non-threatening that one or two remaining humans can pick up a crumbling book like Ulysses, physically open it (it is heavy), and allow their eyeballs to scan the first sentence, which is (prepare), “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.” Somehow, these chosen few are not like, “What the hell is happening? Personally, I am so lost.”

Finally, reading will not make you money. Maybe I said this, but I forget. In fact, reading is the least optimized stim, if you can call it that. Mostly because it takes so much time, and you will get so tired.

If you aren’t asleep yet, wow! Much appreciation. You are now good at reading. I suggest you find an intellectual who might have some Danielle Steel.

An Incredibly Chillaxed, School-Bus-Stop Hang with the Gen X Dad Who Keeps Putting Atlas Shrugged in Your Little Free Library

Michael Lieberman — Mon, 28 Sep 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Well, if it isn’t the cool millennial parent who doesn’t believe in screaming at his kids. Good to see you again. It’s me, the Gen X dad who tells people he could have played college football within five minutes of meeting them. Grab a cold septuple IPA even though it’s only 8:27 a.m.

Yep, there’s nothing quite like drinking a frosty one in the disconcertingly hot autumn sun, is what I like to say. But that’s just me, a plain ‘ole political operative who doesn’t believe everything he hears from Big Sunscreen, or what scientists such as yourself refer to as “irreversible climate collapse.” Call me a rote contrarian whose favorite basketball player is John Stockton, but I kinda like it when the leaves change color!

Let’s crank up the Bluetooth speaker I brought over to drown out the soft vocal register of your precocious daughter, whose name I never remember. Maybe it’s because I was a latchkey kid who ate Lunchables every day from 1989 through 1994, but I miss a time when MTV just played actual music, ya know.

Speaking of children, perhaps you are wondering as to the whereabouts of my twin sons, Limbaugh and Roark. Unfortunately, I’m afraid our fair county’s humble first-grade curricula had them spelling “potato” like Dan Quayle. That’s why this year they’re going to the same private school that Brett Kavanaugh and Neil Gorsuch once attended. Eight years old and already members of The Federalist Society. Pretty impressive, no?

Not that I need my kids to be child prodigies or lesser Ivy lacrosse prospects or anything. Johns Hopkins will also suffice, and if need be, UVA.

The child asking you for string cheese is obviously reminding me of government handouts. Instead of providing this much-needed sustenance, I would answer a question with a question: “Who is John Galt?”

Call me a clichéd, nihilistic reactionary, but I’m pretty sure this new Sublime album I Grok’d is worth the entirety of our town’s ever-dwindling water supply. Besides, who says that parents can’t cut loose from time to time? Certainly not me, a guy who spent Labor Day telling the sushi manager at Wegman’s how I became an early investor in Palantir.

That’s right, kemosabe, I’m all about slacking back, having fun, and sharing antidepressants with my hyperactive cavadoodle, Alan Greenspaniel. Speaking of fun perks, did you know that my crazy, 52-year-old ass came up with the idea for Trader Joe’s to make their employees wear Hawaiian shirts as an alternative to unionizing?

Roark tells me that I can’t even say “crazy” anymore, which is basically fascism, a thing I apparently support now—also, selling out.

Oh look, it’s the bus driver whose exorbitant salary is paid by my taxes. I hope your kid has a great day “learning” at “school.”

Say now that you’re free of parental responsibility, how about you and I go pop an edible in the doomsday bunker underneath Alan Greenspaniel’s doghouse? After all, what could be better than listening to my favorite Pearl Jam album Vitalogy, while eating shelf-stable Dunkaroos like a couple of Waynes and Garths? Never mind the multiple copies of Hitch-22 that I own. Call me a resource-hoarding, pro-natalist, but I have no problem lending one out to you. Just remember to return it to the bunker once you’re all done. I think you’ll like it. According to his Oura ring readout, it’s Limbaugh’s favorite. Schwing!

Fantasy Football Punishments for Your Work League That Violate the Geneva Convention

Willem Doherty — Fri, 25 Sep 2026 13:00:00 -0400

Loser runs a beer mile.
This common league punishment sprints straight into Article 20, which stipulates that the movements of POWs must be conducted at least as humanely as the movements of your own side’s troops. Until everybody commits to chugging four Pabsts and heading to the local high school track, HR is definitely flagging this one.

Loser takes the SAT.
This is an edge case. Under the Third Geneva Convention, POWs can be forced to work, as long as the work is non-military in nature. But civilians may not be forced to work, even if it’s just everybody’s favorite standardized test. Is Jason, who will most definitely lose this year, a civilian or a POW? Did he give up his right to refuse work when he traded Ja’Marr Chase for Brock Purdy, Josh Jacobs, and the Steelers Defense? I think so, but HR might not.

Loser undergoes any sort of public humiliation.
Look, I know Tyler has the screen printer at home, and that he can print a shirt that says #1 FANTASY IDIOT in any font you want. But, unfortunately, our league has been preempted by the human rights advocates of the twentieth century, who prohibited prisoners of war from being subjected to all forms of “public curiosity” (Article 13, Third Geneva Convention). Our corporate lawyers have ruled that this includes dinosaur costumes, ill-fitting crop tops, and anything Tyler makes at home. The rules of war apply to everyone, even the League Manager.

The loser spends twenty-four hours in a Waffle House.
Though keeping Jason locked in the local drunk tank/24-hour breakfast food spot sounds like a great idea, it might land us a stay in The Hague. The rules are simple: spend 24 hours at Waffle House, with each waffle eaten subtracting one hour of prison time. At first, it seems like a pretty slick loophole—the Geneva Convention doesn’t say anything about overfeeding—but that’s not the sort of thing you want to argue to an international tribunal, or to Debra from HR. Besides, under Article 26 of the Third Geneva Convention, prisoners of war must be fed to prevent disease and malnutrition, and everybody knows Waffle House doesn’t contain enough nutrients for a healthy life.

Loser gets a tattoo chosen by the winner.
Way too life-changing. Easy grounds for dismissal by HR, and prohibited pursuant to Article 32 of the Fourth Geneva Convention. You’re on thin ice, buddy.

Loser auditions for the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleading Squad.
Yes, the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders host open tryouts. Yes, Jason looks good in booty shorts. But, under Article 76, women are the object of “special respect” and shall be protected against any and all forms of “indecent assault.” Somewhat outdated and sexist language? Yes. Vital to protect all those actually talented dancers from the sight of Jason’s love handles? Also, yes.

Loser does stand-up at an open mic.
Nothing in the Geneva Convention covers stand-up comedy, but I’ve seen what Jason counts as a “joke” in the Slack. I’m going to classify this one as collective punishment—he’d have an audience, after all—and move on.

Loser enters a bodybuilding competition.
Technically, it’s not public (you have to buy a ticket) and it’s not humiliation (we’re celebrating Jason’s body!), but HR still smells a whiff of “public curiosity” on this one. Besides, Article 27 stipulates that the detaining power must provide POWs with sufficient clothing, underwear, and footwear, and I don’t think Speedos count.

Loser eats extremely hot wings.
Okay, I’m getting a little concerned about how close we’re toeing the line between “having fun with the boys” and “excruciating physical torment.” No, the ratifiers of the Geneva Conventions did not know about ghost pepper sauce, nor had they watched beloved actors nearly die on a YouTube channel where celebrities eat hot wings. But if they had, I’m sure they would have included a Capsaicin Clause in their articles. Back to the drawing board.

Loser takes a baked beans bath.
Listen, I don’t even know where you got this one, but you’re right—there’s nothing in the Geneva Convention about slathering Jason in baked beans. Fortunately, world powers are convening as we speak to address this grave error. Please put your hands behind your back. You’re going away for a long, long time.

Our Edible Glue Is Not Edible

Kevin Yeoman — Fri, 25 Sep 2026 08:00:00 -0400

Consolidated Harvest Friends, LLC Interoffice Memorandum

Not For Public Release

Dear Executives, Executive Assistants, Interoffice Subordinates, and High-Value Shareholders—

Recent disturbing reports have surfaced which claim that Glünch: The Edible Glue, the newest addition to the beloved product line of Consolidated Harvest Friends’ consumer-grade comestibles, has been linked to, though not necessarily proven to be the precise cause of, mild-to-severe gastrointestinal distress in a small (i.e., nebulous) sampling of consumers located in and around the Midwest and Southeastern United States.

In accordance with detailed instructions from our in-house counsel/Rapid-Response Public Relations Team (aka Tina, who I can assure you is beyond thrilled to be back in the office, where we all know she can more efficiently recover from a nasty bout of maternity leave), the response to this unfortunate set of circumstances is twofold:

Any misleading information and/or deceptive practices pertaining to the production of Glünch: The Edible Glue stem from a lack of outside regulation, which results from regulator cowardice and is antithetical to a functioning free-market economy.

Any compulsory acknowledgment of accountability by Consolidated Harvest Friends must be entirely consumer-driven.

It is a deeply held belief of those here at Consolidated Harvest Friends—a subsidiary of Northstar Halcyon Technology Ventures—that customer well-being, though never explicitly guaranteed, is sometimes necessary. The health and safety of our customers is an appreciable notch on the sliding scale of both Consolidated Harvest Friends’ and the larger Northstar Halcyon Technology Ventures’ prime concerns. And I can tell you these concerns have been discussed in close conjunction with a potential overhaul of the corporation’s core tenets.

In light of recent developments, Consolidated Harvest Friends is actively exploring adopting a new corporate motto: “Profits > Products > People.” This is part of a consciously socially responsible rebranding that, according to Tina, may be necessary in the next five to seven years, depending on the legal ramifications of the aforementioned product’s alleged inability to be both a powerful adhesive and a minimally palatable substance suitable for human consumption.

I would like now to draw your attention to the report in question, which states that Glünch, when utilized in accordance with Consolidated Harvest Friends’ guidelines—i.e., as a food agent capable of providing a soon-to-be FDA-approved “feeling of fullness” upon consumer ingestion—is akin to “dumping a bucket of quick-drying cement down a garbage disposal.”

Obviously, CHF and its global parent company, Northstar Halcyon Technology Ventures, are deeply disturbed by the insinuation that our consumers’ digestive tracts in any way resemble a commercial-grade garbage disposal. This kind of slander is beyond the pale. Moreover, I can personally assure all of you that Glünch’s post-ingestion activity does not in any way resemble “quick-drying cement.” According to the latest research data collected and interpreted by Tina (in her lateral role as in-house statistician), Glünch’s interaction with the average human’s digestive system is more analogous to Ground Granulated Blast Furnace Slag (GGBS) emulsifying in gutter water—though it is imperative to mention that the product remains a flavor-neutral and potential source of nutrition-adjacent calories, vitamins, and minerals.

For our response to align with the principles our company has been conscripted into adopting, it pleases me to inform you that Consolidated Harvest Friends is launching a multi-platform campaign of performative grief-stricken incredulity that a cursorily tested product like Glünch: The Edible Glue is not only not edible (as the name would suggest), but that it may also contribute to a pronounced decrease in the quality of life of our customers and their loved one(s).

A commitment to the continued existence of a large, impressionable, regulation-averse customer base is paramount to Consolidated Harvest Friends’ continued building of shareholder value. If ensuring our shareholders’ value means temporarily recalling Glünch: The Edible Glue from certain high-value markets because of an increasingly informed populace with remedial-to-competent critical-thinking skills, then that is exactly what we will do.

Executives and shareholders must not be alarmed. Consolidated Harvest Friends is so much more than Glünch: The Edible Glue. After all, we are the purveyors of enormously popular products that include MonTuna, our food-chain-disrupting yellowfin tuna/grass-fed Montana beef hybrid, as well as its unanticipated yet ingeniously marketed byproduct, Barntini, the world’s one and only small-batch ditch liquor for the masses.

And let us not forget our immensely popular wood pulp cheesesteak, That’s So Patio!, and the ascendant Nescafé killer, Hot Beverage in the Dark, the only consumer-grade potable that emits an eerie, swamp gas–like glow when it reaches its optimal serving temperature. I would, of course, be remiss if I failed to mention the product that started it all: the VitaBro Blended Shake, which remains the premier consumable for the discerning douchebag overly concerned with his protein intake. These affordable and abundant products fabricated by our workers have been and always will be a quick, convenient, and theoretically sustaining source of calories.

We here at Consolidated Harvest Friends know consumers have a choice when it comes to the products no one ever—and I do mean ever—asked for, and we thank them (in a strictly internal capacity) for making us a part of their lives. However long that may be.

Warmly,
Ty McNeil
Interim VP of Research and Development & Rural Product Deployment
Consolidated Harvest Friends

“Charlie Brown Must Stay the Course”: A Football Kick Autopsy Report by the Democratic Party

Jack Loftus — Thu, 24 Sep 2026 13:30:00 -0400

“Senator Tammy Duckworth (D-IL) says Democrats should not impeach ‘anybody’ if they regain control of Congress … ‘I would rather move the ball forward’ to the benefit of the American people, and if we can do it in a way that allows him [Trump] to save face, and he doesn’t stop us, then that’s better for everybody all around.” – C-SPAN

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In the wake of another painful, difficult outcome, the Democratic Party has completed its review of Charlie Brown’s most recent failed attempt to kick the football.

It’s no surprise to us, but the findings are straightforward. While Charlie Brown did once again accelerate toward the ball, miss the ball entirely as Lucy pulled it away, flip backward through the air, and land violently with a disquieting crunch that slipped no less than three discs in his still-developing spine, we do not believe that now is the time for a dramatic change in kicking strategy.

To be clear: Charlie Brown must attempt to kick the football again.

We understand the frustration. Many children in the neighborhood, having seen Charlie Brown pull his crumpled, broken body up from yet another flailing flight through the cool seasonal air, yearn for him to try something new. Some suggest using a kicking tee. Others say Franklin should hold the ball. Peppermint Patty, in particular, vociferously argued that after several successive years of identical catastrophic results, it may be worth examining whether Lucy’s role in the kicking process has become counterproductive.

We respectfully disagree. The central lesson of this cycle is not that Charlie Brown should stop trusting Lucy. It is that Charlie Brown must do a better job explaining why trusting Lucy remains the responsible choice.

Our internal polling indicates that football remains incredibly popular. Kicking things remains en vogue. Even the general idea of Charlie Brown successfully booting a football, which we concede has never come close to happening, nevertheless polls modestly well across most major neighborhood demographics.

That is why messaging discipline is essential. Charlie Brown should not criticize Lucy for pulling the football away. He should say he is disappointed that some stakeholders have chosen not to participate in good-faith autumn recreation. He should not suggest a new ball holder, because that risks alienating children who believe Lucy has valuable institutional knowledge, despite all observable evidence.

We are particularly concerned by calls to let Charlie Brown walk away entirely. While emotionally understandable, this would hand Lucy a powerful attack line. She would claim Charlie Brown has abandoned football. She would say he hates tradition. She would warn that if Franklin, Peppermint Patty, or anyone else were allowed to hold the ball, the neighborhood would descend into chaos, radical horseplay, and possibly even soccer.

We acknowledge that Lucy calls Charlie Brown a blockhead when he runs confidently at the ball. She calls him a blockhead when he approaches the ball cautiously. She called him a blockhead when he adjusted his angle, took his time, shortened his stride, and begged her not to pull the football away at the last minute because his insurance now considers repeated Lucy-related blunt force trauma to be a preexisting condition.

However, if Charlie Brown heeds our robust focus group findings, we believe a narrow path exists where Lucy may run out of insults, grow tired of yanking the ball, and allow the process to reach the much-anticipated foot-to-leather connection phase.

Going forward, we recommend Charlie Brown continue running toward the football, but with renewed emphasis on moderation, humility, and openness to Lucy’s concerns. We also recommend he avoid bold experimentation, that he repress his guttural cries at the moment of impact, and eschew any suggestion that the arrangement itself is the problem.

The next kick attempt is too important to change course now. Surely, that’s the one that will sail victoriously through the uprights. Or Charlie Brown’s limp, airborne body will do so, again, and we shall begin anew. Either way, the donors get paid.

Lest We Forget the Horrors: An Unending Catalog of Trump’s Cruelties, Collusions, Corruptions, and Crimes: August 2026: Atrocities 1211-1280

Emily Greenberg and Chase Bush-McLaughlin — Thu, 24 Sep 2026 07:00:00 -0400

Early in President Trump’s first term, McSweeney’s editors began to catalog the head-spinning number of misdeeds coming from his administration. We called this list a collection of Trump’s cruelties, collusions, corruptions, and crimes, and it felt urgent to track them, to ensure these horrors—happening almost daily—would not be forgotten. Now that Trump has returned to office, amid civil rights, humanitarian, economic, and constitutional crises, we felt it critical to make an inventory of this new round of horrors. This list will be updated monthly between now and the end of Donald Trump’s second term.

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These lists, along with everything McSweeney’s publishes on this site, are offered ad-free and at no charge to our readers. If you are moved to make a donation in any amount or subscribe to our website’s Patreon, please do. This will help support this project and our other work.

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ATROCITY KEY

– Authoritarianism
– Constitutional Illegalities, Collusion, and/or Obstruction of Justice
– Environment
– Harassment, Bullying, Retribution, and/or Sexual Misconduct
– Lies and Misinformation
– Musk Madness
– Policy
– Public Statements and Social Media Posts
– Trump Family Business Dealings
– Trump Staff and Administration
– White Supremacy, Racism, Misogyny, Homophobia, Transphobia, and/or Xenophobia

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July 2026

Main Index

Trump’s first term

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August 2026

– August 1, 2026 – Edwin Lopez-Cornejo, a 41-year-old Salvadoran immigrant, died in ICE custody. He was the third Delaney Hall detainee to die since the ICE detention facility reopened in New Jersey in May of 2025. Lopez-Cornejo had epilepsy, diabetes, and high blood pressure. His family said Delaney Hall staff denied him medication and ignored his worsening symptoms.
– August 3, 2026 – Washington, DC US Attorney Jeanine Pirro dropped charges against former Olympic canoeist David Hearn for vandalizing the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. Pirro said evidence found that faulty construction, not vandalism, had damaged the Reflecting Pool. Trump denounced Pirro after her decision, saying she “choked” and “folded like an umbrella.”
– August 3, 2026 – Jay Clayton was sworn in as Director of National Intelligence. During his confirmation hearing, he refused to acknowledge that Biden won the 2020 election. The Federal Election Commission, an independent US government agency, certified that Joe Biden defeated Donald Trump in the 2020 presidential election by over seven million votes.
– August 4, 2026 – U.S. District Judge Amit Mehta dismissed seditious conspiracy charges against far-right, anti-government leader Stewart Rhodes and other members of militia group, the Oath Keepers. The judge had previously sentenced Rhodes to 18 years in prison for his involvement in the January 6 riot and called him “an ongoing threat and peril to this country.” On his first day in office, Trump had commuted Rhodes’s sentence. The Department of Justice eventually moved to drop the case altogether, which resulted in the judge’s reluctant dismissal of the charges. “Today’s epilogue,” the Judge Mehta wrote, “diminishes the gravity of that day, denigrates the work of the prosecutors and law enforcement officers who secured these convictions, and excuses criminal acts that caused a centuries-long pillar of our democracy—the peaceful transfer of presidential power—to buckle.”
– August 5, 2026 – The United States government refunded large corporations billions of dollars that were collected under Trump’s tariffs. Apple received an estimated $2.2 billion; Amazon, $600 million; and Nike, $300 million. The tariffs cost the average US household an estimated $1,000 in 2025. US households have not received any government refund.
– August 5, 2026 – “Canada’s nasty. They are,” Trump said during a speech about tariff negotiations. ”They’re nasty. I love the people, but they’re nasty. Nasty leadership.”

“Canada’s Nasty”: Donald Trump Slams Canadian Leadership Over Tariffs (CNBC TV18)
– August 6, 2026 – Trump signed two executive orders targeting birthright citizenship: one to limit who was eligible for birthright citizenship; the other to prevent so-called “birth tourism,” the term anti-immigration activists use to describe women who give birth in the United States to establish citizenship for their children. The orders came after the Supreme Court ruled that Trump’s attempts to end birthright citizenship were unconstitutional.
– August 6, 2026 – Under Trump, ninety percent of foreign ambassador nominations have gone to political donors and loyalists. Many lacked the prior diplomatic experience required by law. In previous administrations, more than half of these jobs went to career Foreign Service officers.
– August 6, 2026 – The Burke Law Group was set to receive a $150 million no-bid contract to represent unaccompanied migrant children in deportation cases. Following public scrutiny—Burke only had two employees specializing in immigration and asylum cases—the firm withdrew from consideration. Trump had previously appointed Marcella Burke, one of the firm’s founders, to Environmental Protection Agency and Department of Interior posts.
– August 6, 2026 – The Department of Government Efficiency consistently inflated its savings in online posts. The United States Government Accountability Office, which investigates federal spending, could not verify billions in supposed savings and found some claimed cuts never happened. DOGE also took credit for lease cancellations that began before it existed, falsely claimed contracts were ended that weren’t, and added unverified savings to its database.
– August 7, 2026 – The Trump administration overrode court-issued protections and deported Mexican immigrants who faced torture risks in their home country. “If their protection claims were based on some likelihood of torture by cartels or organized crime,” said Robyn Barnard, Vice President of Refugee and Immigrant Rights at Human Rights First, “then there is a risk they’re going to be disappeared upon arrival.”
– August 7, 2026 – Trump renewed his efforts to fire Lisa Cook, a member of the Federal Reserve Board of Governors, the governing agency of the US central bank. The White House informed Cook that Trump was “considering” removing her and demanded that she respond to unproven allegations of mortgage fraud. If Cook were ousted, it would allow Trump to appoint another ally to the board, which would help toward his efforts to get the Fed to lower interest rates. In June, the Supreme Court had upheld limits on Trump’s attempts to remove members from the independent Federal Reserve Board.
– August 7, 2026 – The Senate narrowly confirmed Todd Blanche, Trump’s former personal lawyer, as Attorney General in a 50–49 vote. As Deputy Attorney General, Blanche violated the law requiring the release of the Epstein files, worked with the Trump administration to compensate January 6 rioters, and fired or forced resignations of Department of Justice officials investigating Trump.
– August 7, 2026 – New York City fired dozens of Haitian city workers after their Temporary Protected Status ended. Hundreds more remained at risk of losing their jobs. Following a Supreme Court ruling in June, the Trump administration revoked Temporary Protected Status for 350,000 Haitians in the United States, 40,000 of whom live in New York. TPS is the US government’s humanitarian policy that prevents immigrants from being deported to home countries where conditions are unsafe. The U.S. Committee for Refugees and Immigrants deemed Haiti dangerous because of failing infrastructure, gang violence, and political instability.
– August 10, 2026 – Springfield, Ohio ICE agents took passports from Haitian immigrants who lost their Temporary Protection Status and forced them to wear ankle monitors. “Taking away their passports does not make sense if the Department of Homeland Security wants Haitians who have lost legal status to self-deport back to Haiti,” said Haitian advocate Marjory Wentworth.
– August 10, 2026 – Trump called for fewer childhood vaccines. His executive order made separate measles, mumps, and rubella shots (MMR) the federal recommendation. Trump said children received “what seemingly looks like gallons” of vaccine, and claimed that spacing their shots would have “a huge impact on autism.” One dose of MMR-II is .5 ML, or one-tenth of a teaspoon, and the National Library of Medicine points to many studies that show there is no connection between the MMR vaccine and autism.

Donald Trump Signs an Executive Order on Vaccination Schedules (Roll Call)
– August 10, 2026 – The State Department revoked visas of foreign nationals over comments made following the September 2025 assassination of right-wing pundit Charlie Kirk. One person wrote, “When fascists die, Democrats don’t complain.” Another said Kirk “died too late.” When former FBI Director Robert Mueller died, Trump wrote on Truth Social, “Good, I’m glad he’s dead. He can no longer hurt innocent people!”
– August 10, 2026 – The Trump administration ended the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s support for the Arctic Report Card. The peer-reviewed report has tracked environmental change in the rapidly warming Arctic every year since 2006. NOAA gave no reason for the decision.
– August 10, 2026 – ICE announced plans to spend up to $20 million on thousands of electric-shock gloves. The shocks can cause pain and inhibit coordinated movement. Jenn Rolnick Borchetta, deputy project director for the American Civil Liberties Union, criticized ICE’s use of these new tools: “Giving ICE agents, who have been reckless with their use of force over the last year, gloves that can deliver electric shocks is terrifying.”
– August 10, 2026 – Trump called Muslim Democratic candidates in the midterm elections “jihadists.” He also said Somali immigrants were “not smart,” had “no aptitude,” and were “telling us how to run our country.” Trump has a history of denigrating Muslims. In 2017, he told supporters, “The hateful ideology of radical Islam must not be allowed to reside or spread within our own communities.”

“Jihadists Being Elected All Over!” | Trump Blasts “Radical” Democrats Ahead Of Midterms (VERTEX)
– August 11, 2026 – The Department of Treasury stopped requiring American companies to disclose who owned or controlled them. Congress created the requirement over Trump’s veto in 2021. The bipartisan law had targeted criminals who used anonymous shell companies to hide money and assets. “This is a gift to cartels, criminals, and U.S. adversaries that exploit shell companies to move millions through our financial system,” said Senator Elizabeth Warren.
– August 12, 2026 – Trump deputized private companies to launch government cyberattacks. Approved firms could secretly enter foreign networks and destroy computer systems and infrastructure. Dakota Cary, an expert on Chinese hacking, said Trump’s policy was copying tactics used by the Chinese government: “In many ways, China’s hacking prowess now stems from the fact that they copied our education system. Now it seems the U.S. is interested in copying China’s system for deputizing private-sector hackers.”
– August 13, 2026 – Ostensibly to address immigrant crossings, the Trump administration began construction on vehicle barriers and a new patrol road through Texas’s Big Bend National Park. The project faced bipartisan opposition in the state. Terrell County Sheriff Thaddeus Cleveland, whose jurisdiction includes part of the Big Bend border, had described it as “the least active sector along the U.S.-Mexico border.”
– August 13, 2026 – The Department of Homeland Security secretly investigated labor unions, socialist organizations, and environmental activists during Trump’s immigration crackdown in Minnesota. Federal agents infiltrated private Signal chats and attended meetings undercover. They searched three years of a union’s banking records for what they called “domestic terrorist financing.” None of the targeted groups were charged with a crime.
– August 14, 2026 – Trump asked the Supreme Court to let him bypass Congress and keep building his White House ballroom. He claimed private donors would cover the cost, but his administration has already diverted $352 million in Secret Service funds to security measures for the East Wing project, which includes the ballroom.
– August 14, 2026 – Trump took credit for a historic decline in violent crime. He blamed crime in the country under the Biden administration on “foreign gangs” and “savage thugs.” He also sharply exaggerated crime reductions in cities where he had deployed federal forces. Violent crime had been falling since 2022, three years before he returned to office.
– August 16, 2026 – Attorney General Todd Blanche refused to say that he would always act independently of the White House. “There’s a big difference between saying we will always do our job and investigate any case and act independently of the White House,” Blanche said when asked to pledge his independence on NBC’s Meet the Press. “No, I’m not going to pledge that, and no attorney general should ever pledge that.” The Attorney General is charged with applying the law fairly and objectively, and is not a personal lawyer or political instrument for the president.

Todd Blanche Refuses to Pledge DOJ Independence from White House (CNN)
– August 16, 2026 – Trump ordered a reduction in military exercises with South Korea, a U.S. ally. He claimed North Korea had been “unthreatening and respectful” and criticized South Korea for not supporting the U.S. war with Iran. A day earlier, Trump had posted a photo of himself with North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong Un, and bragged about their relationship, saying he planned to meet with Kim later in the week.
– August 16, 2026 – President Trump’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, met with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and leaders of Hamas. Kushner does not hold a Senate-confirmed position, and his private investment firm received funding from Middle Eastern governments. In April 2026, House Judiciary Committee Ranking Member Jamie Raskin opened an investigation into Kushner, citing national security risks and potential federal law violations regarding his dual roles as a foreign-funded financier and an active U.S. diplomatic negotiator.
– August 16, 2026 – The U.S. Navy drew up plans for a costly major warship redesign to better match Trump’s preference for a World War II-esque aesthetic. During Trump’s first term, the Navy determined that such changes would cost billions of dollars and impact the ships’ buoyancy and weight. The Trump administration has spent over one trillion dollars on the military since December 2025.
– August 16, 2026 – President Trump blamed vandals for dead grass on the National Mall, in the same location where he had built a stage and hosted crowds for July 4th. He also repeated false claims that the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool was vandalized: “Look what VANDALS did to the grass connecting the vandalized World War II Monument and the vandalized Reflecting Pool, which will be opened again, and better than ever, shortly. Anybody who thinks the Reflecting Pool wasn’t vandalized should go back to Law School!”
– August 17, 2026 – Trump threatened to bomb Oman, a U.S. ally, over talks with Iran. “If Oman gets in the way, we’ll bomb the shit out of them,” Trump told Fox News. Both the U.S. and Oman had been separately negotiating with Iran to reopen the Strait of Hormuz, and Trump’s comments came after Iranian officials said they were close to finalizing a deal with Oman.
– August 17, 2026 – Trump lashed out at Senator Jon Ossoff, calling him a “Pee-Wee Herman lookalike,” after Ossoff mocked Trump’s peculiar relationship with aide Natalie Harp. The New York Times published letters sent between Trump and Harp. “You are all that matters to me,” Harp wrote in one missive. “I don’t ever want to let you down.”
– August 17, 2026 – The White House’s “rapid response” account on X attacked CNN’s Kristen Holmes for questioning the president about his ballroom project and relationship with Natalie Harp. The post called Holmes a “disgraceful, humiliating embarrassment to her alleged profession.” Another post read, “Someday, your children will come across your disgusting and inhumane question. They will be sickened and embarrassed to have a parent be so callous and vindictive.”

Trump Asked About Jon Ossoff’s Comments About Presidential Aide Natalie Harp (Forbes)
– August 17, 2026 – Former Colorado election clerk Tina Peters was offered a new job as an assistant registrar of voters for Shasta County in California. Peters was previously sentenced to nine years in prison for trying to subvert the 2020 election and was pardoned after pressure from Trump. Senator Alex Padilla argued for Peters to be removed from the position and accused the Shasta County clerk and registrar of voters of “collud[ing] with the Trump administration’s election mischief."
– August 18, 2026 – Liberia agreed to accept 1,200 deportees from the U.S in exchange for $5 million. Two days later, at least five deportees were flown to Liberia but resisted getting off the plane. They were then flown to Equatorial Guinea, raising questions about whether the Trump administration was following a transparent process. The US has deported over 22,000 asylum seekers and those with protection orders to countries they’d never been to, including South Sudan, the Central African Republic, and Eswatini.
– August 18, 2026 – The Trump administration imposed sanctions on International Criminal Court president and chief judge Tomoko Akane and senior ICC trial lawyer Abdoulaye Seye. Akane and Seye had advanced the prosecution of Israeli officials and became the twelfth and thirteenth ICC jurists sanctioned by the U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio called the ICC “a corrupt and fatally politicized supranational court that has maliciously abused its authority and exceeded its mandate.” In response, the ICC called the sanctions a “flagrant attack” on the ICC’s independence. “[When] judicial actors are threatened for applying the law, it is the international legal order itself that is placed at risk.”
– August 18, 2026 – The watchdog group Corporate Accountability Lab found that sugar importer Central Romana, whose import ban was lifted early in Trump’s second term, had continued its abusive labor practices. The farm’s mostly Haitian workers earned poverty wages, worked excessive overtime, faced intimidation and threats from superiors, and lived in dilapidated and overcrowded company-owned housing without electricity or potable water. José Fanjul, Central Romana’s owner, had previously donated to Trump’s campaign and ballroom project, attended a state dinner at the White House, and hosted Trump at his apartment.
– August 18, 2026 – The Trump administration moved to repeal the 2001 “roadless rule” to allow road construction and logging in nearly 45 million acres of untouched national forests. The plan could destroy crucial habitats and headwaters for major municipal water supplies.
– August 18, 2026 – Former Department of Justice lawyer Haley Van Erem alleged that politics drove the Trump administration’s antisemitism probes at elite universities. Erem said the administration pushed ahead with settlements despite rushed, incomplete investigations that did not find any legal violations, and that the outcomes of the investigations were “predetermined, without regard to evidence.”
– August 19, 2026 – US debt hit $40 trillion, fueled in part by massive spending on the Iran war and the 2025 Republican tax cuts. In 2016,...

Ways Other Than “Gentle” You Could Go into That Good Night

Tyler Gooch — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 12:34:00 -0400

You could go suavely into that good night. That might be cool. You’d need a smooth, cool aura to pull it off, though. Maybe try on a silk shirt, look in the mirror, and do a little self-evaluation before attempting this one.

Oh, you know what? Could you go rowdy into that good night? Make a ruckus. Bounce around, cause a scene. That might be fun. Sort of the opposite of gentle; really show how psyched you are to go into that good night. There is no shame in showing your emotions.

God, the more we talk about it, the more going gentle into that good night sounds really appealing, doesn’t it? I’d never even thought about how to go into that good night, but now that the poem told me not to go gentle into that good night, I can’t think of going any other way.

Hey, what if you started going into that good night in a rambunctious manner, really going nuts, but then, once you got into that good night, you switched to going gentle? As far as I can tell, there are no Welsh poets outlawing that kind of behavior.

Try going rough into that good night. Maybe you’ll like it. Sometimes people tell their husbands that they only like going gentle into that good night. Then their husband comes home early from his fourth fantasy football draft of the weekend because everyone laughed at him for taking Caleb Williams in the second round, and he finds his wife going extremely rough into that good night with a Krav Maga instructor named Todd. And she really seemed to be enjoying it.

I guess you could go gentle into that good afternoon and then just wait until the sun goes down. That’s another option.

Or maybe, don’t go into that good night at all. Todd is probably there with his deltoids. It doesn’t matter how you go into the good night; if Todd’s there, you’re going to end up unhappy. How is he buff and so flexible? Never mind, sorry.

What if you go gentle into a different night? “Oh, I’m not going gentle into that good night. I’m going gentle into a different, mediocre night.” It’s easy to find loopholes like this because poets aren’t really trained in the ways of syllogism or modus ponens-based reasoning. Poets don’t realize that, by going gentle into a mediocre night, the mediocre night can become a good night, and thus you’ve backdoored your way into going gentle into that good night.

Just go gentle into that good night. Who cares? What’s the worst that could happen? Todd bangs your wife? That already happened, and it seems like it’s going to keep happening.

Actually, go confidently into that good night. Todd isn’t there. It’s logically impossible for him to be there. If Todd is present, the night cannot be good. So if the night is good, Todd isn’t present. Modus tollens. Mutual exclusion. So go into that good night with a feeling of safety and comfort, knowing you’re safe from Todd’s boulder shoulders.

Wait, yeah, go confidently, but also go armed with a sack full of nickels into that good night. Just in case Todd does somehow show up there. Then you can give Todd a swift nickel-smack, and you’ve suddenly gone aggressively into that great night.

First, Add No Shame

Taylor Harris — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 09:00:00 -0400

You’ve Always Been This Way is a column written by Taylor Harris, a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman and 1980s preschool dropout, who identifies every moment from her past that filled her with shame, and mutters, “Yep, that tracks. I see it all now.”

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This morning, on a walk around my neighborhood with two poorly-behaved poodle mixes, I stopped once again for the baby pine cone. This one already dropped and disentangled, waiting at the border of a small garden.

I remembered then: Writing can be small and wrapped, layered and touching, tight and nearly eternal in depth. Hold it between two fingers, hide it within a cove of denim beside your house key. No one carries loose change anymore. By chance or memory, retrieve it before laundry day, and roll it in your palms or set it on your desk, let it stand alone as living amidst a sea of Paper Mate markers and fineliner pens. See it as you write or grade papers, as you read comments from one guy who shapeshifts from workshop to workshop, changes his name and interests, but his ways are the same. You know the one.

But what can he possibly say about the pine cone?

“Haven’t we seen this before?”

“So what?”

“Pretty language, but what’s at stake?”

Kindly tell the gentleman from Dartmouth or the Carolinas, or wherever they make men with loud thoughts, he’s missing the point. And what’s at stake is always life, or beauty, you’re not sure yet.

I had a plan, you know, for this column. A funny-ish opening, a long and rambling middle, a punchy end, to make you remember my words. The pine cone destroyed it. Blame nature while you can. The midterms are coming, and nine more years until AI bots destroy us.

I had this unwieldy plan-like plan, a foam sword of an outline, because I thought I needed it. Thought if I wrote in September, the month we tell everyone to hug a friend and call 988, when we post statistics and even worse statistics and the worst statistics for autistic people who thought they were just born wrong to live wrong and die wrong, then I should, at least, paint you a better world with words:

Not this, but that, I’d say. Here, a better way!

If I’m going to complain or tell you “I get it,” or “I’m okay right now, but I see why this happens,” or “I worry about my children most,” then Dartmouth guy, Bradley, the judge in my head who’s too educated to say “Go back to wherever you came from,” says, “If you don’t like it, then find a solution.”

The good news is, screw Bradley. Today I found a pine cone, stuck it in my front pocket, and texted one of my neurodivergent fairy godsisters. She took it to Reddit, the promised land of rabbit trails, and you already know….

This baby cone, the same length as the top of my house key, is likely full-grown. Its whole world wrapped inside itself—papery scales reaching up, always on the verge, or maybe content to be slanted and at rest. Perhaps this pine cone wouldn’t recover from Tide pods and a spin cycle, but it’s sturdy enough to one day house a spider, maybe a slug if it can handle the texture of slime. (Could never be me, bro. Slugs are chopped.)

I’d presumed this entire reproductive organ, this fierce protector of seeds, to be a lost or premature baby, something cute to hold and behold, when, really, she carries in her slight frame the stuff of fairy tales and forests, of shelters for the unhoused beings of her world—no questions asked, no judgment passed, no gated communities or HOAs to pose as victims of encampments. I’d almost missed her completely, should probably throw her back to the brick-lined garden.

I made her a reminder of beauty for myself, and she’s quite unconcerned with my need to slow down and notice against the hungry winds of productivity.

Yet she did remind me. Seeing her narrow and edgy form, I remembered I don’t have to know everything to tell you one thing. Do you know how doctors learn to “First, do no harm”? When it comes to suicide and being autistic, when we know that feeling like a burden and not belonging can take people out, allow me to keep it small and tight:

First, add no shame.

Today, I don’t want to detail how schools have fumbled my children, adding shame to my seeds instead of covering them. I don’t want to get into why parents saying, “As long as my kid can live independently,” is like saying, “As long as my baby’s healthy.” I don’t want to break down what it’s like to operate with a smile out there but sense a thousand times inside that you’re “doing it wrong” again.

Instead, I’ll tell you about my day: I walked two dogs—one big, one little—both an ever-loving fluffy mess of nerves. They stood still long enough for me to pick up this baby-but-big-girl pine cone. It’s not thee answer. She’s her own, remember. Still, I need you to behold her stacked crevices, how her top puckers like a mouth, a woodland-inspired O’Keefe. This gorgeous one, from an eastern hemlock, the users say, one I overlooked for forty-three years. See her and tell your inner critic or boss or loved one to quiet down, that what you have to offer this September and thereafter is enough. There’s no shame in that.

GIRL CODE: What He Texts vs. What He Really Means

Layne Dixon — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 05:01:00 -0700

Sup
Hey

Down 2 hang tomorrow?
Are you free this Friday?

Not looking for anything serious
I’m only asking because I’m looking for someone

But we could still have fun
To drive me out into the woods

R u on Snapchat?
And dig a hole

Add me on Snapchat
And bury me in it

I had fun last night
No weird stuff, just digging a deep, wet hole deep into the woods and watching as I lay down in it

We should do it again
You also will be covering me in the dirt

Not sure when I’m free tho
The cold, wet dirt

U up?
But don’t worry, I’ll be quiet

;)
So so quiet

Sorry wrong person
A quiet little Parisian boy

DTF?
In this scenario, I’m from Paris

;)
Couvre-moi de terre s’il te plaît maman

What r u wearing?
And this isn’t one of those classic situations where I’ll do the sort of weird, coy “Oh no, not the dirt…” thing and say stuff like “Oh no Madam, don’t bury me in the deep hole. The hole is too deep, and the dirt is too wet, and I have to help Papa sweep Old Miss Gentry’s chimney later today”

That’s so fckin hot
“Papa needs me, Madam, un petit garçon, to climb down in the chimney, you see, because Papa cannot. Mama likes to joke that it’s because he has too many nogaux and buttery croissants, and we all laugh and laugh and laugh, but I still am the one who lowers himself into the deep dark chimney, the one who succumbs to the dark, the one who is swallowed up and spit out, because Papa is an adult man and I am a boy, a petit Parisian boy”

Sorry wrong person
“And if I don’t go, Papa will have no choice but to bring my older and more stubborn brother Jacques. And he’ll get stuck, Madam! He’ll get stuck in the Old Miss Gentry’s chimney just like all the others, and then we’ll be right back where we started, cleaning out the treacherous old thing that takes what it wants day in and day out. Leaving no hope, no joy, no children”

Was just thinkin bout u
Anyway, once I’m buried, you can leave

;)
I’ll eventually claw my way out and find my way home

Send nudes?
To Paris, that is

… hello?
… bonjour?

[Sends an unsolicited dick pic]
[Sends an unsolicited dick pic]

Today’s Programming Lineup on Trump TV

Carlos Greaves — Tue, 22 Sep 2026 20:15:00 -0400

“The White House has launched its own round-the-clock video channel, dubbed ‘Trump TV: The Essentials Station,’ just days after President Donald Trump barred CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from the White House.” — Newsweek

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The White House is thrilled to announce the arrival of Trump TV. No nation can truly call itself a democracy until its leader has dismissed the entire press corps and replaced them with state-run media. Now, instead of Americans depending on the lying mainstream news, they’ll be able to get their information straight from the ultimate beacon of truth: the president himself.

Here’s all of the great programming you can expect from Trump TV over the next twenty-four hours:

6:00 a.m. – 6:05 a.m.
Ted Nugent sings “The Star-Spangled Banner” while gargling a cup of piping hot black coffee.

6:05 a.m. – 9:00 a.m.
Stephen Miller recites the entire screenplay of The Birth of a Nation from memory.

9:00 a.m. – 11:00 a.m.
The president attends a ribbon-cutting for the brand-new White House helipad. The camera will be positioned fifty feet away, and there will be no audio.

11:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m.
Health Secretary RFK Jr. shows Americans the best ways to flay, brine, and cook roadkill.

12:00 p.m. – 12:05 p.m.
Kid Rock shoots a five-hundred-pound wheel of Certified Halal Tillamook Cheddar with an assault rifle.

12:05 p.m. – 2:00 p.m.
Kash Patel testifies before Congress on the positive aspects of bestiality in the workplace.

2:00 p.m. – 2:30 p.m.
Pete Hegseth inspects US Marines for signs of decreased vitality.

2:30 p.m. – 3:00 p.m.
Trump’s special ambassadors to Hollywood—Jon Voight, Mel Gibson, and Sylvester Stallone—review the latest films. Within five minutes, all three men will forget what they were supposed to be discussing and instead complain about how modern movies have way too much diversity and way too little full-frontal nudity.

3:00 p.m. – 5:00 p.m.
White House executive assistant, Natalie Harp, live-streams from the Oval Office. Unfortunately, Natalie will have the wrong phone camera turned on, so all we see is a close-up of her smile, which is equal parts childlike admiration, prophetic worship, and deep yearning.

5:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m.
Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas explains why the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was actually worse than Jim Crow.

6:00 p.m. – 6:30 p.m.
Rudy Giuliani mumbles something about Muslims while peeing on himself.

6:30 p.m. – 7:00 p.m.
Mitch McConnell waves at a wall.

7:00 p.m. – 7:30 p.m.
Jake Paul punches a solar panel.

7:30 p.m. – 8:00 p.m.
Lauren Boebert humps a Trump Bible.

8:00 p.m. – 8:59 p.m.
Matt Walsh waxes poetic about states’ rights while AI-generated images of the Civil War slow-pan across the screen.

8:59 p.m. – 9:00 p.m.
Vice President JD Vance.

9:00 p.m. – 12:08 a.m.
President Trump delivers a three-hour address to the nation, where he will accuse Canada of training moose to smuggle fentanyl across the border to fund Antifa.

12:08 a.m. – 5:08 a.m.
Infomercials for MyPillow, the $250 Trump Semiquincentennial commemorative gold coin, and a male virility enhancer that’s just an infrared face mask for your ballsack.

5:08 a.m. – 5:10 a.m.
Programming will be interrupted by an alert from the Pentagon that, due to a faulty AI-assisted intelligence report, the United States Air Force has bombed a Chinese aircraft carrier.

5:10 a.m. – 6:00 a.m.
Coverage of the conflict continues as China declares war on the United States, which, in turn, declares war on China. North Korea joins the war on the side of China, while Israel pledges support to the United States. When Canada, the EU, and the UK refuse to join the war, the president declares war on them. Russia takes advantage of the situation and declares war on the EU. The EU responds by declaring war on Russia. India, largely dependent on Russian oil, is strong-armed into joining the war on Russia’s side. Pakistan responds by joining the EU. All of the world’s major nuclear powers are now at war.

6:00 a.m.
Natalie Harp live-streams the president as he unleashes global nuclear Armageddon. The wrong camera turns on again, and all we see is her enraptured smile as the bombs rain down.

Don’t Mess with Texas

Eli Burnstein — Tue, 22 Sep 2026 06:00:00 -0700

The following is an excerpt from McSweeney’s contributor Eli Burnstein’s new book, Phrased & Confused, a guide to the great quotations that we just keep getting wrong. From ancient maxims like “Seize the day” to modern sound bites like “The road less traveled,” Phrased & Confused sets the record straight on commonly misunderstood statements — and plumbs the meanings of famously slippery ones (“I think therefore I am,” “A rose is a rose is a rose”). Pairing witty commentary with lighthearted illustration from New Yorker cartoonist Liana Finck, it’s the ideal resource for lovers of language, literature, history, and philosophy, full of intelligence and insight for curious minds everywhere.

- - -

“Don’t mess with Texas”
(Tim McClure, 1985)

Tough-guy catchphrase? No. Anti-littering slogan. Get it? Mess?

Though widely assumed to be a bit of generic Texas swagger, the brassy pun was put out by the Texas Department of Transportation in 1985 in an effort to curb rampant roadside littering: Taxpayers were spending around $20 million a year to clean up automotive trash, and young men of the pickup truck–driving, beer can–slinging variety, not to be won over by signs saying pretty please, were thought to be the chief culprit.

The campaign worked. According to the book Don’t Mess with Texas: The Story Behind the Legend, the public service offensive helped reduce litter on Texas highways by roughly 72 percent within five years. Indeed, the phrase was so catchy that it took on a life of its own, spilling out beyond garbage cans and bumper stickers and tracking into the zeitgeist, encapsulating Texan ’tude even better than “Remember the Alamo.” Seared onto belt buckles, peppered into political speeches, the phrase has become so fused with the Lone Star ethos that most of us—including more than a few Texans—have no idea where it comes from.

Which is why, believe it or not, the Texas Department of Transportation has historically been a bit feisty about protecting their slogan, a registered trademark: They want people to get the anti-littering part of the message. So, if you’re thinking of slapping it on a T-shirt or trucker cap and don’t want to get a cease-and-desist letter, you may want to ask them first. As former New York Times’ Houston bureau chief Manny Fernandez quipped, “Don’t mess with Texas. In fact, don’t even mess with ‘Don’t Mess with Texas.’”

Origin

Coined by Tim McClure of the ad agency GSD&M, “Don’t mess with Texas” (sorry, “Don’t mess with Texas”) was deemed sufficiently edgy that the then-called State Department of Highways and Public Transportation initially hesitated to use it. Good thing they took a chance. Since its inception, “Don’t mess with Texas”–themed TV and radio PSAs have featured such high-profile Texans as Matthew McConaughey, Erykah Badu, Ethan Hawke, Owen Wilson, George Foreman, Lance Armstrong, Willie Nelson, Chuck Norris, and Shamu the orca. We’re still waiting on one from Beyoncé.

- - -

Eli Burnstein’s Phrased & Confused is available wherever books are sold.

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers

Colin Nissan — Tue, 22 Sep 2026 04:40:00 -0700

First published on October 9, 2009, this classic by Colin Nissan is our most-read article of all time. We’re celebrating the 17th anniversary of this freaky-ass harvest (and the first day of autumn) with the brand-new Decorative Gourd Thermos and McSweeney’s Quarterly/Thermos combo subscription. Happy fall, fuckheads!

- - -
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I’m about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over, it’s gonna be like BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is—fucking fall. There’s a nip in the air, and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.

I may even throw some multi-colored leaves into the mix, all haphazard, like a crisp October breeze just blew through and fucked that shit up. Then I’m going to get to work on making a beautiful fucking gourd necklace for myself. People are going to be like, “Aren’t those gourds straining your neck?” And I’m just going to thread another gourd onto my necklace without breaking their gaze and quietly reply, “It’s fall, fuckfaces. You’re either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you’re not.”

Carving orange pumpkins sounds like a pretty fitting way to ring in the season. You know what else does? Performing an all-gourd reenactment of an episode of Diff’rent Strokes—specifically the one when Arnold and Dudley experience a disturbing brush with sexual molestation. Well, this shit just got real, didn’t it? Felonies and gourds have one very important commonality: they’re both extremely fucking real. Sorry if that’s upsetting, but I’m not doing you any favors by shielding you from this anymore.

The next thing I’m going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I’m going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it’s not summer, it’s not winter, and it’s not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it’s fall, fuckers.

Have you ever been to an Italian deli with salamis hanging from its ceiling? Well, then you’re going to fucking love my house. Just look where you’re walking, or you’ll get KO’d by the gauntlet of misshapen, zucchini-descendant bastards swinging from above. And when you do, you’re going to hear a very loud, very stereotypical Italian laugh coming from me. Consider yourself warned.

For now, all I plan to do is to throw on a flannel shirt, some tattered overalls, and a floppy fucking hat and stand in the middle of a cornfield for a few days. The first crow that tries to land on me is going to get his avian ass bitch-slapped all the way back to summer.

Welcome to autumn, fuckheads!

- - -
Available now in our store

The Decorative Gourd Thermos

The Quarterly Subscription/Gourd Thermos Combo.

The Decorative Gourd Diner Mug

- - -
Read about the editing process of publishing “Decorative Gourds” over on our Patreon page, and maybe even consider becoming a patron while you’re there?

We, Your Gracious Meeting Overlords, Are Giving Fifteen Minutes of Your Time Back to You

Chris Vandersall — Mon, 21 Sep 2026 10:00:00 -0700

Congratulations, colleague.

We, the meeting overlords, have agreed to end this meeting early and are benevolently granting you fifteen minutes of your day back. With this bountiful amount of time, we hope you choose to hydrate, eat, catch up on sleep, stand up for the first time in four hours, address your rapidly declining mental, emotional, and physical health, repair all relationships with the loved ones you’ve neglected, and progress through any other stages of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

We assume the fifteen minutes we have given you is more than enough time to do this.

We know many of our meetings don’t usually end as early as this one did, and instead run over the allotted time. Yes, we are in charge of both the meetings that go long and also the ensuing meetings that are entirely separate, yet include the exact same attendees. However, it is impossible for us to steal time from one meeting to give to the other.

The only time we can steal is from your calendar.

All meetings are essential, even if we do not know what they are for. Sometimes we may ask you what the purpose of a meeting is when we are the ones who scheduled it. If that happens, please accurately guess why we are meeting or come up with a reason for us to meet. What we can’t afford to have happen is for a meeting to be canceled. It is imperative that we all sit in a room together, whether it is necessary or not. The meeting’s purpose will eventually reveal itself to us all.

Since this particular meeting was only a quick huddle before the pre-meeting, preceding the actual meeting that has a pre-scheduled, post-meeting regroup, your fifteen-minute allowance does have a hard stop.

No need to thank us for this abundant gift of your own fifteen minutes back. We will, however, accept a sacrifice in the form of your time (which will certainly exceed fifteen minutes) at a moment of our choosing. Please be ready at that moment to hop on a quick call. We do not know when that will be. It could be tonight. It could be tomorrow. Regardless of when, we expect you to remain on standby for the foreseeable future for the potential meeting that may or may not happen for reasons that are yet unknown. All we are certain of is that it will be urgent.

While you wait to give your mandatory time sacrifice, you are allowed to do life. In fact, we encourage it, so you can recharge (while also being on call) and perform optimally in tomorrow’s meetings, which begin promptly at 8:30 a.m. If that start time does not work for you, you must notify the meeting overlords immediately. Then, they can formally deny your request for it to be moved, because other, more important people than you cannot make any other time work.

Do not fret. If you absolutely cannot make that 8:30 a.m. meeting, we will still have it without you. And we will have it again when you are able.

There is no “getting out of” a meeting. You must receive all information in a live discussion, because it is impossible to understand meeting matters through email. No combination of written words could possibly convey the meeting’s complex concepts about the job you do every day. Additionally, no form of meeting notes will contain the crucial ten minutes of banter with your peers that occurs before the actual meeting starts.

If you cannot make tomorrow’s 8:30 a.m. meeting because of the phenomenon of being “double-booked,” please take it upon yourself to figure out a solution for you and all twelve other attendees’ schedules. If you try hard enough, though, you’ll find that time is merely an illusion and that you can be present for both concurrent meetings simultaneously. We believe in you.

If you have an issue with the number of meetings you have, you may put a meeting on our calendar to discuss it. All you have to do is find time in our schedules, which are entirely blocked off for the next three months. When scheduling the meeting, please choose a time only during your non-meeting work hours to discuss the meetings that prevent you from doing your work.

We hereby end this granting-of-time meeting. The fifteen minutes we gave back to you are now over. And our next meeting is upon us. Since we are gracious, you may urinate or grab a granola bar from the office pantry, which will suffice as your lunch. Please choose only one activity or the other.

Do not worry. We will make sure we don’t start the next meeting without you. But every minute you are gone will be added to the meeting end time. Remember, the meeting’s time is precious and must not be wasted. All other work or biological needs must be accomplished on your own time, like during the fifteen minutes we just gave back to you, which are now gone.

My Favorite Fun and Useful Phrases from Duolingo’s Yiddish Course

Mike Sacks — Mon, 21 Sep 2026 05:00:00 -0700

“That tie is old and ugly.”

“There are no normal people.”

“Your room stank really bad.”

“Your room really stank bad.”

“I am better without you.”

“Without you, I am better.”

“I only eat small sour lemons.”

“My friend has seven children, so what?”

“Why are you sleeping under the table?”

“When is he happy, never?”

“Nobody wanted this.”

“Is your bed almost broken or completely broken?”

“She wants butter, but why ours?”

“Mr. Goldman must go home already.”

“He has little money, but I have less.”

“The French are everywhere.”

“My son is perfect.”

“Your son is already old.”

“How old are you already?”

“The sad children are there.”

“You have to eat soup!”

“My soup has something strange, but his does not.”

“This does not smell good. Is it fresh?”

“They do not invite you because you always fall asleep.”

“This vegetable is old!”

“The potato is perfect, unfortunately.”

“Twenty dollars for three packages of cookies!?”

“Why do you not visit us?”

“I am dying!” — “You are not dying!”

“What, these are your daughters?”

“Who here smells like fish?”

“This fish stinks.”

“This stinks!”

“The pocketbook stinks!”

“My uncle is a broken man.”

An Important Vaccine Update from the Lord Thy God

Jack Loftus — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:00:00 -0700

And lo, I was looking between the cushions of My heavenly couch the other day, seeking the divine TV remote, when I found something I had not seen in several millennia.

An eleventh commandment.

Apparently it had slipped down there sometime after Sinai. And I said, “Well, shit.” For behold, humankind has spent thousands of years observing the Ten Commandments when there was, in fact, one more:

XI. THOU SHALT GET THE JAB.

Vaccines were supposed to be on the tablets the whole time. Wild, right? But, in My defense, I had just created heaven and earth, and parted the Red Sea, and plagued Egypt, and dictated quite a lot of dense material to Moses. Things fall between the cushions. Even unto the Lord.

But having rediscovered this sacred instruction, I looked down upon the earth and saw that humankind had become greatly troubled by vaccines, and I said unto Myself, with great exasperation, “Oh, for My sake.”

For I am the Lord thy God, Creator of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible, the Alpha and the Omega. I fashioned the human immune system from ashes and dust and proteins and several mechanisms that are far too complicated for people to be arguing over on Facebook.

And yet.

Even now some amongst you still say, “Surely, God would not want me to put a vaccine into the body He gave me.” To which I say: Whateth the actual fucketh?

I have provided unto you brilliant doctors and scientific minds. My Hand has guided the creation of microscopes, laboratories, antibodies, clinical trials, and an entire branch of mathematics devoted to the quantum level. I have even given you pharmacies located inside grocery stores, so that thou may receive protection against disease and purchase toilet paper during the same journey.

What more precisely were you expecting from Me? Did you think I would descend from the heavens every autumn to personally remove influenza from thy lungs? I am literally God! I have things going on up here.

There are approximately two trillion galaxies in the observable universe, depending upon which of My astronomers thou askest. I have neutron stars colliding. I have black holes consuming stars. Somewhere in Andromeda, a moon is doing something so spectacular with methane that you would lose your Me-damned minds.

And hear Me now regarding this “religious exemption.” From what religious tradition, exactly? Vaccines have existed for roughly five minutes by My standards. Edward Jenner appeared in the eighteenth century. Before that, humanity spent several thousand years asking Me to save their children from diseases which are now prevented by a jaunt to CVS.

There was no Book of Moderna. Paul wrote no epistle unto the Walgreens. Moses did not descend from Sinai bearing two stone tablets, one of which read THOU SHALT DIVIDE UP THE MMR AND THEN NOT TAKE IT ANYWAY.

For most of human history, when your child contracted diphtheria, measles, smallpox, polio, or whooping cough, your religious practice consisted largely of praying desperately to Me that the child would survive. And I heard those prayers. I heard mothers begging beside beds. I heard fathers promising Me everything they possessed. I heard entire villages call My name because something invisible had entered their homes to take their children one by one.

Then, eventually, humanity figured out how to stop a lot of it, and even the insurance companies, which literally do the work of Satan himself, said they’d help pay for it. And now certain among you have decided this development might offend Me. Me! The One you were asking for help.

My children, please go forth and celebrate the vaccine. I will not be insulted. I will not become wrathful. I am chiefly amazed that after thousands of years of humans asking a version of Me to protect them from pestilence, I finally helped you develop a pretty sweet system, and now I have to come down here with a postscript to slow the influx of souls just a tad because my gatekeeper St. Peter is on PTO this century.

Therefore, I command thee: Get the jab. Enjoy the fruits of My labor, which, for once, have been peer-reviewed and are readily available without an appointment at a CVS location near you.

McSweeney’s

An Open Letter to Senator Eric Schmitt About It Being Totally Okay Not to Know Anything About Sports

A Text to My Husband Upon My Conscription into a Rave

Announcing Cornell University’s Newest Writing Course: Rape Essays 101

Reviews of New Food: Chicken and Waffles Oreos

I’m Going to Have a Third Cup of Coffee, and I Need Everyone to Respect My Decision

How to Read Good or Maybe Great

An Incredibly Chillaxed, School-Bus-Stop Hang with the Gen X Dad Who Keeps Putting Atlas Shrugged in Your Little Free Library

Fantasy Football Punishments for Your Work League That Violate the Geneva Convention

Our Edible Glue Is Not Edible

Consolidated Harvest Friends, LLC Interoffice Memorandum

Not For Public Release

“Charlie Brown Must Stay the Course”: A Football Kick Autopsy Report by the Democratic Party

Lest We Forget the Horrors: An Unending Catalog of Trump’s Cruelties, Collusions, Corruptions, and Crimes: August 2026: Atrocities 1211-1280

ATROCITY KEY

July 2026

Main Index

Trump’s first term

August 2026

Ways Other Than “Gentle” You Could Go into That Good Night

First, Add No Shame

GIRL CODE: What He Texts vs. What He Really Means

Today’s Programming Lineup on Trump TV

Don’t Mess with Texas

“Don’t mess with Texas” (Tim McClure, 1985)

Origin

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers

Available now in our store

We, Your Gracious Meeting Overlords, Are Giving Fifteen Minutes of Your Time Back to You

My Favorite Fun and Useful Phrases from Duolingo’s Yiddish Course

An Important Vaccine Update from the Lord Thy God

“Don’t mess with Texas”
(Tim McClure, 1985)