We are shocked.
Shocked and outraged.
Shocked and outraged and up in arms… but definitely not a tiny bit turned on!
… [on] becoming a satire site no one would comment on, into being a site that ONE PERSON would comment on
We work hard everyday to do a simple chore. It’s no big deal. It’s dirty work, definitely not for everyone. Sure, there is some glamour in it, some celeb parties, some manifestos get typed, nachos get eaten, farts get enfartened. But no, the daily life of a satirically investigative journalist is no picnic. We wake up well before 2p, order Taco Bell (hey, Taco Bell, I know we didn’t sign the ink on our endorsement agreement yet but do you think you could kick us some free coupons until we finalize the cha-ching?) from GrubDash, then put on our underwear just before the delivery arrives. Then we eat, duh. Then, we get down to business for the next, say, forty-ish minutes, looking for the pure nugget of golden satire that will impact stock markets, empower a woman to run for office, or maybe, just maybe, force an appellate judge to slightly piss their judge robes when they should be making sure voir dire can’t be challenged on appeal to a higher court and now they can’t tell anyone because judges are never supposed to pee their robes in court (if this sounds familiar see our notes at the end of the article for a possible interview). This is the work we do. It may not be God’s work, honest work, or even passably intelligent work, but for the exiled members of Randall Tanaka’s “Scrapbooking & Sewing Squad” (no, the other one) it’s the best we can do.
Which is why we were so shocked. Shocked and outraged to find such enmity and scorn for the hard work we do. But we’re also, proud, proud at getting our first critic! We’ve made a huge step, in 2024, from becoming a satire site no one would comment on, into being a site that ONE PERSON would comment on. It’s really changed our outlook on this job.
So we asked our staff to respond, in their own words, to begin healing.
In hindsight, this was dumb.
Staff Impressions
Tickles Mugabo, International Editor
Honestly, some of us think this is a corporate espionage by The Onion, or The Babylon Bee, or Fox Business News. They can’t accept that our hard-hitting, high-octane, numbskull-splitting satirically investigative journalism is giving so much daddy vibes right now. They’re basic bitches, and it’s sad. We expect this from Fox News of course. What else do you expect from old, white men that drink the blood of ancient marsupial lords from the Chalices of Fire, on panther burial grounds? But The Onion? We really hope this is not their work. It’s not even insulting or funny. If it were the Onion they’d probably say something like: “Nice job for someone whose dad hasn’t come back from getting cigarettes yet. Now gimme your satirical lunch money and… lick my sexy, black heels. Oh yeah… and help! I’m stuck in the dryer, again!!!” Oh yeah, I really hope The Onion makes us lick their sexy, patent-leather boots and then gets stuck in the dryer. Y’know? Like, the power dynamic of The Onion versus little old us, The Vidalia News Recorder? Ummm, excuse me. I need to use the restroom… for a bit.
Florence “Hightower” Matsumoto, Preschool Police Beat
As you can tell, the depth of this criticism is quite deep. So rarely has so much deep depth been conveyed in so few words so deeply. This deepening “critique” of our satirical investigate journalism is, in itself, a deep & vibrant world of poetic depth folded in on itself like a paper crane is folded into a deepening perfection from raw material.
The deeply profound statement “what crap!” is just deep! I can’t believe we didn’t think of that first. It’s shallow really! Think about it. We invest tens of minutes a week to writing hard-hitting nonsense. We force these droll articles about breasts, or penises, or penises sliding into, and then out of, and then back into those same, deep breasts, and are we better for it? Has our minimum article word count of 25 ensured world-class satirical journalistic excellence?
Well, we are, and yes it has. But, could we learn something from the multitudinous depth of the phrase “what crap!”? Yes, yes we could, deeply.
I’m thinking of titling my next article about the deep, dark, black market economies in Montessori playgrounds, “What Crap!” What happens when Timmy goes deep in the hole for trading four pretty pebbles for two packs of menthols? “What crap!” Indeed!!!
So deep.
Eugene Levy, Elven Politics and Practical Sexuality
Hey everyone! It’s me, Canada’s greatest gift to the world, Eugene Levy, and we’re going to talk about who trying to get they crink-crink in that stink-stink erm’kay?!?
That skyscapes_dorrigo is about to light my no-no_burrito in that white-hot passion amigo!! Hoooo! I know he’s burning for some of this right now. I can just tell, okay??
You all gots to trust a diva, like me, Eugene Levy, the handsomest Canadian to ever work as a comedian and Canadian at the same time. Y’all know what happens when you out on clerb night, just working your magic thing-a-ling for all the paparatz and then it’s like you ignite Hiroshima in they pants. I know you do my little love skanks! That’s clearly what happened to poor baby dorrigo there. He can’t help it. We popped him with our glamulous money-shot and now boo, he in love!!!
He’s just tryin to play cool, you know how it is when that crink-crink need that stink-stink!!
Eugene Levy, Canadian God of Sex, is out!!!
Watch out for my next article about what would happen to Morgol’s GDP if the spiders increased tariffs on the Ungol Pass by 3/10 of a percent for a two year period. How would the Forest Elves’ period of minimal inflation be impacted? Our analysis includes the statement from the Fellowship of Elven Chamber of Commerce.
Getrude Slappy-Bottom, Cyborg Adoptions and Head of the UN Desk
It was one of us that wrote it. How could it not be? No one reads what we write. No one. Trust me, I know.
That critic on Instagram was probably a paid actor. It’s so pathetic. If you can’t have honesty in social media critique of satirical, investigative journalism then what’s left?
This place is so mid.
Yevgeny “Novochuk” Baburin
It was definitely not Russian misinformation.
No kompromat here.
It was, probably, North Koreans. They love a good satire and an onion like the Vidalia. That’s a nice onion.
No Russians involved. Okay?
Say it.
How We Healed
On a journey like this, dealing with the profoundly insightful and scathing review from a random Instagram user we have very little recourse but to lick our wounds, cry in our beer, then become massively successful turkey vendors since that’s what we’ve wanted to do since childhood.
We are going to vend the shit out of some turkeys. We’re going to vend those mother-pluckers so damn hard. To the window! To the walls! Til this sweat drop down my balls! Til all vend vend mo’pluckers! Til all vend vend mo’pluckers!
A Call for Interviews
If you are any of the following, please reach out to us!
- A judge who pissed their judge robes, in court, reading our life-altering satirical site when you should have been managing voir dire
- A counselor who pissed the judge’s robes, in court, reading our life-altering satirical site when you should have been executing on voir dire
- A potential juror, tired of these courtroom shenanigans, that then espied the pissed judge’s robes, in court, being examined by the piss-offending counsel during voir dire
- An intern with the Uruk Hai trade-maesters managing supply routes through the Ungol Pass that pissed, on the Elven trade agreements to reduce the tariffs, while reading our life-altering investigative satire
Vidalia News Recorder 