They reportedly inherited a UAE-built runway intact, and a tenth of everything humanity ships now sails past their driveway. 🦆
The Email Equivalent of Screaming Into a Bag
It's Patriot Day — one of the actual solemn ones, so the mic stays holstered there. The calendar, displaying its usual range, also declared it National Hot Cross Bun Day. That's an Easter pastry, in September, meaning the bun is either five months late or seven early. Even the raisins knew they were in the wrong room.
And now, the wreckage.
They reportedly inherited a UAE-built runway intact, and a tenth of everything humanity ships now sails past their driveway. 🦆
No Iran deal, he said, and prices stay up till voting's done — a president reading the ransom note himself, your fuel bill the hostage. 🦆
The rocket's field test appears to have failed, so Claude didn't just take the engineers' job — it matched their output. 🦆
Grieving families touched their dead because a species that conjures a trillion overnight for a shaky bank couldn't find gravedigger wages. 🦆
The Pentagon graded its own homework and still couldn't score below 153 dead civilians in three strikes; a Yemeni nonprofit did the full count. 🦆
Two economists at Hebrew University found the dead half the world's governments couldn't. Not hidden. Not in a cave. In the mortality data, where deaths famously live. The ledger says 5.08 million COVID deaths for 2020 and 2021; the truth is 12.47 million — for every funeral the state admitted, more than one it decided never happened. Buried twice: once in the ground, once in the ledger. The worst offenders were what the study calls "informational autocrats," which is peer review for "liars with a health ministry." Regimes that can chase a forty-dollar parking ticket across a decade and three address changes lost more bodies than they counted. They didn't lose them. Losing implies looking. And the books rotted fastest wherever there was an election to win, because they CAN count. Fast. Exact. Down to the decimal. The moment the number is votes and the name at the top of the tally is theirs. 🦆
"Women are like roads. The more curves they have, the more dangerous they are."— Mae West
The shots are at CVS now — 65-plus or high-risk, book mid-September into October; the virus shows up whether the government does or not. 🦆
Three lux — dimmer than a nightlight — was linked to 33% more strokes. Darkness is free: kill the screens. You are not a houseplant. 🦆
11,458 sick, two dead — most of them before the recall even landed. A smoke alarm that waits for the ashes to cool would like its medal now. 🦆
Appeal hearing expected by December; Britain's stuffing cells all autumn anyway. The cameras got bored — the cuffs never broke stride. 🦆
Nearly every elite Chimú tomb was looted; this one held 38 mourners untouched for 600 years. He had to die to beat us, and he still beat us. 🦆
She called it "an oddly shaped rock." That's the afterlife: the ice age's headliner, mistaken for gravel by a stranger saving a frog. 🦆
Dark matter does every ounce of the holding — invisible, uncredited, the one friend carrying the entire podcast. 🦆
Physics swore dark energy was a constant; two independent surveys now say it may be changing. The universe asked to see the paperwork. 🦆
They came off a diving bird the tyrannosaur ate, and may show which birds survived the asteroid — birdsong's survival notes, filed in crap. 🦆
That's the firehose. Lock the rate while it still has two digits, kill the bedroom light before it remodels you, ask the pharmacist for the shot by name, and go ahead — the salad is legal again. Tomorrow is National Chocolate Milkshake Day and National Video Games Day, the calendar handing dessert and a controller to a country that hasn't slept since Tuesday. One clogs your arteries, the other your evenings, and both end with you on the couch explaining yourself to no one.
Until next time —
Ya roasted!
— Roastie