Elon Musk reportedly gave employees a 48-hour deadline for a major assignment, sparking backlash, burnout, and a flurry of Slack messages that read like panic attacks in emoji form. Here’s the satirical breakdown of what happens when your billionaire boss thinks he’s directing a Marvel movie.
The 2025 Emmy Awards were a chaotic blend of streaming supremacy, emotional speeches, and red carpet chaos. From “The Studio” dominating comedy to “Severance” finally getting its flowers, here’s your full satirical recap of the night that made TV feel like therapy with better lighting.
Donald Trump announced he’ll award Rudy Giuliani the Presidential Medal of Freedom, sparking national debate and late-night comedy gold. From Mafia takedowns to landscaping press conferences, Giuliani’s legacy gets a shiny new twist.
The Powerball jackpot has officially crossed the billion-dollar mark, and the DMV is buzzing louder than a Metro escalator alarm. From Bethesda to Ballston, everyone’s buying tickets, manifesting yachts, and Googling “how to disappear after winning the lottery.” Here’s a satirical look at America’s favorite fantasy: becoming a billionaire overnight without having to Venmo your cousin back.
Men and women aren’t in competition—they’re in a cosmic relay race where one hands off the baton of logic and the other sprints with emotional intelligence. Let’s stop pretending it’s a battle and start appreciating the weird, wonderful ways each sex dominates their own lane.
Ever feel like you’re paying twice for the same government service? Welcome to the DMV (D.C., Maryland, Virginia), where your tax dollars go to die, reincarnate, and get taxed again. This satirical deep dive exposes the bureaucratic buffet of double taxation, with real examples, legal loopholes, and enough sarcasm to fill a pothole.
From lizard people in Congress to secret tunnels under Tysons Corner, we explore the wild world of conspiracies and fringe theories with a comedic lens. Warning: May cause side effects like laughter, skepticism, and Googling “Is my neighbor a CIA plant?”
Because if history repeats itself, and Trump gets another four years, late-night hosts will need more than punchlines—they’ll need passports.
Picture it: Washington D.C., the Kennedy Center, a venue known for elegant galas and cello solos. Suddenly, the red carpet is rolled out—not for Yo-Yo Ma, but for Donald J. Trump, arriving in a gold-plated golf cart, flanked by Secret Service agents and a guy dressed as a bald eagle.
