Category: Satire

In a world drowning in overcomplicated tech buzzwords and centralized kill switches, a revolutionary new system has emerged from the cosmic depths: the Rectum Protocol, powered by the Uranus Networks. Forget your bloated 5G towers and fiber-optic overlords—this decentralized marvel promises to strip away the man-in-the-middle, eliminate Truman Show-style surveillance, and deliver messages with the purity of a carrier pigeon on a suicide mission. Built on the principles of encryption, machine-to-machine (M2M) communication, and a no-nonsense approach to data flow, the Rectum Protocol is here to unclog the digital pipes and give you control—straight from the source. The backbone of this system? A radio frequency network named after the fiercest warrior queen of lore: Red Sonia RF. Operating on an unregulated spectrum, Sonia RF uses low-powered signals to…

In the annals of scientific inquiry, few mysteries have proven as stubbornly elusive as the physics of cables. From the dusty drawer of tangled earbuds to the labyrinthine mess behind your TV, cables defy logic, order, and all known laws of physics. The question remains, whispered in hushed tones by frustrated techies and physicists alike: Has anyone figured out the first law of cable dynamics? Spoiler alert: No. And we’re not even close. Let’s start with the basics—or rather, the tangles. Enter the Cable Entanglement Theory, a hypothesis so intuitive it hurts. Picture this: You neatly coil your HDMI cable, tuck it into a drawer, and shut it tight. You return days later to find it inexplicably knotted with a USB-C cord, a rogue headphone wire, and—somehow—a stray…

In a quiet corner of CERN, sometime around 1989, Tim Berners-Lee and his trusty sidekick Robert Cailliau hatched a scheme so diabolically nerdy it would change the world forever. Armed with a NeXT computer, a handful of angle brackets, and a dream of hyperlinked research papers, they birthed the World Wide Web—or as they innocently called it, “WorldWideWeb” (one word, because spaces are for peasants). Little did they know their quaint little invention would doom children to a dirt-free existence, obliterate the wholesome family picnic, flood pharmacies with Vitamin D3 supplements, and leave superior internet protocols like BBS, IRC, Usenet, and Gopher choking in the dust of dial-up modems. Picture the scene: Berners-Lee, twiddling his mustache (he didn’t have one, but he should have), muttering about “HTTP this”…

Gregory Gable, a 54-year-old IT veteran with 30+ years of experience, had battled every tech gremlin imaginable—parallel port printers that ghosted him, IBM System/360 servers that crashed mid-inventory due to actual bugs and modems that taunted him with their initial AT dial-up connection handshake sound failures due to bad POTS lines. But his breaking point came last month in Boise, Idaho, when he spent three agonizing hours wrestling with those tiny WiFi cables—you know the ones that connect to to the M.2 WiFi modules?! “This is the most time I’ve ever spent on such a menial task,” he grumbled, his fingers trembling as he tried to align the minuscule connectors, having bent one in the process. Chad overhearing his grumbling, 23-year-old janitor whizzed over and plugged them in…

In the year 2025, the world teetered on the brink of absurdity—not because of climate change, alien invasion, or a rogue asteroid, but because a gang of hyper-enthusiastic nihilists decided that if the end was nigh, they might as well party like it was 1999 BC. Calling themselves the “Why Notters,” they donned leather jackets emblazoned with slogans like “Nothing Matters, So Pass the Loot” and “Doom’s Coming, Grab a Stranger.” Their philosophy was simple: if the cataclysm was inevitable—floods, fire, or maybe just a really ticked-off God—why not steal everything, ravage everyone, and live out their savage dreams? After all, they reasoned, life was just a cosmic prank, and they were the punchline. The Why Notters weren’t subtle. They raided cities with glee, leaving behind manifestos scrawled…

March 11, 2025—In a world where Plain Old Telephone Service (POTS) is being ceremoniously marched to the guillotine, a new savior has emerged from the ashes of crackling copper lines: PAMS, or Packet-Assisted Messaging Skillet Machine Service. Yes, you heard that right—Skillet, the network provider with a frying-pan logo and a penchant for sizzling innovation, has teamed up with X to replace your dusty fax machine with something far more deliciously absurd. Forget VoIP’s jittery promises; PAMS is here to cook up a singular messaging revolution, and X is the chef wielding the spatula. Buckle up for a satirical glimpse into the future where PAMS devices reign supreme, all thanks to X’s unhinged brilliance. POTS Gets the Boot, PAMS Slides In Once upon a time, POTS powered fax…

Jenny SeaMonkey, who being fed up of “weirdness of living on this planet” worked out a process of teleportation using the standard fax protocols and hooking a holographic vacuum on each fax modem on each end of the portals. Ms. SeaMonkey had successfully ran her test by teleporting herself from her bedroom closet to her kitchen cabinet, both outfitted with the fax modem hooked up to the holographic vacuum chambers. Each chamber, according to Jenny works by sucking all matter from light into analogue wave information that gets transliterated into AT data transmission commands over No Name VOIP services for $4/mo of unlimited calling to the lower 48 states, and pennies to a dollar anywhere else in the world. The other end of the transmission is another holographic…