Someone died.

You mistakenly assumed that my brain wouldn’t beeline straight from “unexpected call” to “someone died.”

You’re feeling too lazy to text, and you know perfectly well that I’m just going to let it go to voice mail and then text my response anyway.

You’re one of those weirdos who enjoys talking to other humans.

You accidentally deleted the messaging app, and you also accidentally deleted the Google app, so you can’t look up “deleted messaging app how to get back.”

You need to tell me something that you can’t spell, like, “My mischievous phlebotomist exsanguinated my vein, and then used a fuchsia handkerchief as a tourniquet, and, if I can’t instantaneously discuss this with my preternaturally conscientious psychologist over hors d’œuvres, I’ll definitely be interred in a beautiful cemetery. Pterodactyl.”

Butt-dial. You have no idea that this crisis is even happening.

You don’t know about texting because you’ve been living under a rock, and, incidentally, you’re calling because you need some help rolling that rock off you.

It’s been so long since you’ve made a phone call that you’re just checking to see if you still can.

You don’t want a written record of what you plan to discuss with me—maybe an affair, a corporate-espionage scheme, or a potentially contagious fungal infection.

Someone dared you to call instead of text, never dreaming that you’d accept such an audacious challenge.

In a world in which the very technology that purports to unite us actually alienates us, you’ve chosen to reclaim the human voice as a crucial nexus of personal connection.

You get off on making people squirm, you sicko.

You’re panicking just as much as I am right now because your finger accidentally brushed the Call icon, and it’s too late to tap End Call because I will have already seen your number pop up.

You’re being forced by kidnappers to provide proof of life to your loved ones.

You’re about to suggest an even more daredevilish escalation of social anxiety: meeting to converse in person.

You lost both thumbs while expressing enthusiastic approval of someone who was arriving by helicopter.

You have such wonderful personal news that you absolutely must tell me over the phone to hear my immediate, unfiltered response!

No, someone definitely died. 

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/reasons-you-might-be-calling-me-instead-of-texting

The post Reasons You Might Be Calling Me Instead of Texting appeared first on Worship Media.

Would you rather watch Bad Santa or Santa Is a Pervert? What sounds more appealing: No Strings Attached or something called Sex Friends? . . . Modern Hollywood films are made for a global audience, but sometimes their titles don’t translate perfectly to all markets.—ScreenCrush.

“Breaking Bad”/“Esteemed Oligarch” (Russia)

Failed teacher Walter White strikes it rich and becomes the envy of his peers when he creates a powerful pharmaceutical.

“How to Train Your Dragon”/“Flight of Ultimate Power” (North Korea)

A boy wishes to possess his own powerful beast, but is incorrectly told by others that he is too small and not strong enough to be trusted with such a lethal weapon. He perseveres, and is soon capable of burning to cinders all those who doubted him. (Family comedy.)

“Home Alone”/“Time to Get Back to Work!” (Burkina Faso)

An able-bodied eight-year-old boy goofs around at home while his job is apparently handled by others. Well-meaning adults try to get him to return to his factory and are repeatedly repelled.

“Captain America: Brave New World”/“Arrogant American: Same Old Shit” (France)

More from the man—and the country—that took credit for winning the Second World War. (Science fiction.)

“Dune: Part Two”/“Those Mad Worms Won’t Stop, Mate” (Australia)

You think those dodgy snakes in the outback are devo? You ain’t seen nothing, mate!

“There Will Be Blood”/“The Greatest Enterprise” (Saudi Arabia)

Bold entrepreneur Daniel Plainview enters the desert and, with great fortitude, extracts the wealth that lies beneath its surface, for which he is justifiably allowed to kill people.

“Shark Tank”/“The Evils of Capitalism” (Cuba)

Loutish bourgeois pigs sit in judgment of ideas brought to them by a proletarian who, in his ignorance and poverty, vies to be exploited.

“White Lotus” (Season 2)/“Italian Prostitutes Are the Smartest” (Italy)

Two beautiful and charming Sicilian women contrive an ingenious scheme to take advantage of American tourists, including one of the Sopranos!

“Wicked”/“Education of Girls Leads to Evil” (Afghanistan)

American girls attend a school and, as a result, cause all sorts of problems, especially when they refuse to listen to the male wizard. (Documentary.)

“Squid Game”/“These Poor Sods Are Done For, Mate” (Australia)

Crikey, you’ve never seen nothing like it: a whole mob of drongos getting in barneys just to keep from carking it.

“Ted Lasso”/“Uppity Yank” (England)

An American who knows nothing about real football comes to the place where it was invented and attempts to tell the creators of the sport how to play. Where are the hooligans when you need them? (Dystopian fantasy.)

“Selling Sunset”/“Hollywood Money-Laundering Opportunities” (Panama)

A look at some of the exciting foreign properties awaiting investment, as well as the photogenic launderers handling them.

“The Office”/“American Workplace” (China)

Let’s see Americans with this kind of work ethic do without Chinese products! (Documentary.)

“The Apprentice”/“Useful Idiot” (Russia)

An unwittingly compromised American “businessman” hazes candidates to be employees in his “business”—a sleeper cell to destroy NATO.

“Big Brother”/“Big Brother” (North Korea)

Americans show off the great number of surveillance cameras used by the state to keep them safe.

“Mamma Mia!”/“Awful Tourists Sing Poorly” (Greece)

Suspense builds throughout the movie as locals wonder: When will these annoying visitors leave?

“Knocked Up”/“Maculate Conception” (Vatican City)

When two heretics engage in drunkenness and debauchery, they face the dire consequences of their fornication. (Horror.)

“The Substance”/“Crikey, This Sheila’s a Dodgy Yowie!” (Australia)

Strewth, mate! You’ve not seen anything like this buggered bird fresh out of the dunny on the wallaby with her festy mug and gob all sideways-like. Yucko! 

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/some-mangled-foreign-title-translations

The post Some Mangled Foreign Title Translations appeared first on Worship Media.

© 2026 Condé Nast. All rights reserved. The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers. The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast. Ad Choices

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/medically-misunderstood

The post Medically Misunderstood appeared first on Worship Media.

At first, I took the alerts seriously. When the Food and Drug Administration announced that a multistate cyclospora outbreak was linked to a certain batch of iceberg lettuce from Mexico, I dutifully tossed my wedge salad. Then the recalls grew more sweeping, eventually implicating more items in my kitchen—a popular brand of potato chips, some diced chunks of cantaloupe, and a jar of pistachio-nut butter that a male Instacart shopper had confidently substituted for a single bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. My compliance began to curdle into exasperation. Still, I’m a civic-minded person, and I have no desire for my gastrointestinal tract to be transformed into the River Styx. All I could do was sigh, throw out the compromised goods, and accept that dinner would be a handful of shredded cheese, eaten directly from the bag over the kitchen sink.

Lately, though, the push notifications alerting me to the recall du jour have taken on an unremitting, nagging tone. On the surface, this all looks like standard public-health advocacy. We’re now familiar with the boilerplate safety guidelines included in recall articles. But, all of a sudden, the math started to add up. I realized that I was getting reminders to properly heat raw meat with a frequency that rivalled that of Skyrizi commercials. Now I receive urgent, unsolicited dispatches about internal poultry temperatures apropos of absolutely nothing. For instance, the F.D.A. recommends bringing whole poultry, poultry breasts, and ground poultry to a safe minimum internal temperature of a hundred and sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit. You know who else recommends bringing whole poultry, poultry breasts, and ground poultry to a safe minimum internal temperature of a hundred and sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit? My mother.

The messaging has gotten harder to ignore. Two days ago, I received an emergency alert regarding “all ready-to-eat, shelf-stable, ambient-temperature convenience-store items nationwide.” Surely this must be an error, I thought—a matter of haphazard syntax! I tapped the notification, expecting the usual recall details, and discovered the reason for the alert: Potential risk of not engaging in mise en place. Under “Recommended Consumer Actions,” the agency didn’t instruct me to return the offending items for a refund. Instead, they provided a hyperlinked YouTube tutorial on how to properly deglaze a pan.

At this point, any pretense of subtext has been abandoned. Yesterday, a voluntary recall was issued for every major brand of frozen chicken nuggets because “they might contain small pieces of metal, or, worse, the crushing realization that you are a thirty-five-year-old adult who still eats like a kindergartner at a birthday party.” This morning, the agency urged me to immediately discard my store-bought rotisserie chicken and instead braise a lamb shank in a classic mirepoix.

This just in: the very concept of a deli counter is now under active federal investigation.

I tried to outsmart them. I stopped buying pre-cut fruit. I successfully ignored the siren song of the deli display that was luring me toward one of those pre-assembled charcuterie adult Lunchables. Thinking that maybe a team of professional chefs could help me evade agency scrutiny, I pivoted entirely to the hot-food bar at the gourmet market down the street. I believed that I’d finally beaten them, until I received a high-priority alert stating that any prepared mac and cheese consumed out of a cardboard container while watching “The Traitors” poses an immediate danger of “emotional rigor mortis.” So I drove three counties over to a tiny creamery and bought some artisanal, small-batch provisions, praying that a fancy goat cheese bisected by a line of vegetable ash wouldn’t trigger a warning. No sooner had I started my car than I was informed that every wedge had been recalled for “exhibiting unauthorized rustic charm.” They don’t want me to be safe; they want me to buy a Dutch oven.

It’s getting exhausting. I can’t even open a bag of tortilla chips anymore without being cautioned that my sodium levels are a “cry for help,” followed by the suggestion that I consider roasting my own chickpeas with a light dusting of organic cumin instead. So you know what? You win, Commissioner! I’ll get a cast-iron skillet. I’ll commit to using “roux” as a verb. I’ll finally figure out how to turn on my oven. I just have one non-negotiable, and it’s a deal-breaker: I refuse to eat the food I cook.

Actually, never mind. There’s already an alert regarding my meatloaf. 

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/im-starting-to-suspect-that-the-fda-is-just-trying-to-get-me-to-cook

The post I’m Starting to Suspect That the F.D.A. Is Just Trying to Get Me to Cook appeared first on Worship Media.

Election fraud is exceedingly rare, but President Trump has fixated on rooting it out this year, claiming without evidence that tens of thousands of noncitizens are registered to vote. —The Times.

After scouring billions of ballots, we have identified countless instances of voter fraud. They are countless, in part, because we are unwilling and unable to count past thirty-four. Verified election-fraud incidents include the following:

Incident: A noncitizen who lives in Rhode Island visited family in Texas and, while at a local coffee shop, cast multiple votes in a poll titled “JACOB ELORDI OR AUSTIN BUTLER???”

Evidence: Not only did the noncitizen vote four times for one candidate and twice for the other, but she did so with the sixty cents she received as change for her order.

Verdict: Interstate Fraud, multiple instances. Voted (“tipped”) a total of six times. Votes were quite literally purchased. Incorrect preference for Jacob over Austin.

Incident: Herbert D. Pendleton, Sr., remains on his town’s voter roll despite being dead.

Evidence: When Herbert D. Pendleton, Jr., went to vote last year, a poll worker claims that she mistakenly crossed off the father’s name instead of the son’s.

Verdict: Zombie Fraud. Poll workers are clearly willing to make up elaborate tales rather than admit that Herbert D. Pendleton, Sr., rose from the dead.

Incident: A dog was allowed into a polling center at a local gymnasium.

Evidence: The dog’s owner allegedly exclaimed, “Ain’t no rules says a dog can’t play basketball—or vote!”

Verdict: Canine Voter Fraud. After interviews with a dozen people who were not there, we deem it highly likely that the dog filled in part of the ballot—and then sank some threes.

Incident: A green-card holder may have walked by a polling location.

Evidence: Passersby recall the permanent resident “sneaking a peek” at the line of people waiting to cast a ballot.

Verdict: Curiosity Fraud. Were it not for such a long line, and were they not on the other side of four lanes of traffic, and were they not headed to work, and were they not uninterested in voting, the offender would have attempted to cast between ten and twenty fraudulent ballots.

Incident: Mail-in ballots—just that they generally exist.

Evidence: Registered voters all over the country have been, quite literally, “mailing it in.”

Verdict: Lack of Commitment Fraud. Citizens must prove their patriotism by not only voting in person but also by making their way through an extensive and dangerous “American Ninja Warrior”-style obstacle course en route to the ballot box.

Incident: Many members of the public were coerced into voting a certain way by reading the news.

Evidence: As average citizens become more aware of what’s happening, they have been observed to vote in their own best interests, an extremely troubling turn of events.

Verdict: Informed Fraud. Votes must be cast based on vibe, not intellectual engagement. News organizations to be held liable for broadcasting news. Voters to be held liable for expressing free will.

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/voter-fraud-weve-identified-so-far

The post Voter Fraud We’ve Identified So Far appeared first on Worship Media.

“Yesteryear” was the book of the summer, leaving the nation divided into three camps: people trying to discuss the end of “Yesteryear,” people forced to walk around wearing shirts that say “Don’t tell me what happens at the end of ‘Yesteryear’ (I haven’t finished it yet),” and people who have not read a book since 2017 and will never again read a book in their lives (seventy per cent of Americans).

Although I don’t think I could be the kind of trad wife described in “Yesteryear”—a stay-at-home mom who drinks raw milk while wearing a pioneer-lady costume—here are some kinds of trad wife that I could be.

Trad Wife (Outfit Only): I totally look like I’m in a sexy version of “Little House on the Prairie,” but I refuse to do a single chore because I’m, like, “No way I’m splashing this dress with dishwater, it cost me five hundred dollars at Doên.”

Trad Wife (Supplies Only): I own four Mason jars.

Farmer’s Wife Adjacent: Let’s be honest, being a farmer is very difficult. I could not be a farmer or a farmer’s wife (also known as a farmer), but I could and in fact have lived adjacent to a farm and stolen their corn.

Airbnb Trad Wife: Constantly browsing farm-style listings for a cute weekend upstate, but never booking any and instead just panic-buying a tomato at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket.

Proud Sourdough Mom: I get a sourdough starter but feeding it is so stressful that I feel like I have a pet dog. Being the owner of a sourdough starter becomes my entire personality.

Far-left Trad Wife: Shockingly similar to far-right trad wife, but with fewer children and zero Bibles. Will garden to reduce my carbon footprint, and remain vigilant so as not to accidentally start an ecoterrorist cult.

I Woke Up Like This Trad Wife: I somehow learn to sleep in a nightgown, and look cute doing so, instead of sleeping in it and flipping around so much in the night that it strangles me.

Ashamed Sourdough Mom: I’m still feeding my starter but I never have time to bake and so actually, yes, I bought this loaf at the bakery.

Farmer’s Wife (Virtual): I’m a farmer’s wife a.k.a. a farmer but in the video game Stardew Valley, where all you do is have a farm.

Farmer’s Wife (Virtual, Adjacent): O.K., to be totally honest, I have never touched a video-game controller, but I could and in fact have sat next to a friend playing Stardew Valley.

Goose Regret Trad Wife: I buy a bunch of geese because I think that’s something a trad wife would do but then immediately remember that geese have bad attitudes so I try to pretend that they’re just random geese I didn’t spend seven hundred dollars on and I’m, like, “Where did all these geese come from? Ha ha.”

“Oh, My God, I’m Basically a Trad Wife!”: I loudly exclaim to an empty room after I vacuum for the first time in a month.

Cow Friend: I have a friend who is a cow.

Trad Girlfriend: I’m wearing my natural-fibre aprons, and I’m growing produce in a state west of the Rockies, but I can’t get my boyfriend to marry me.

Trad Domestic Partner: The feminist dream. 

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/new-kinds-of-trad-wife-i-could-be

The post New Kinds of Trad Wife I Could Be appeared first on Worship Media.

© 2026 Condé Nast. All rights reserved. The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers. The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast. Ad Choices

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/currently-on-view-in-an-art-fair-booth

The post Currently on View in an Art-Fair Booth appeared first on Worship Media.

© 2026 Condé Nast. All rights reserved. The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers. The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast. Ad Choices

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/currently-on-view-in-an-art-fair-booth

The post Currently on View in an Art-Fair Booth appeared first on Worship Media.

© 2026 Condé Nast. All rights reserved. The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products that are purchased through our site as part of our Affiliate Partnerships with retailers. The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast. Ad Choices

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/currently-on-view-in-an-art-fair-booth

The post Currently on View in an Art-Fair Booth appeared first on Worship Media.

A top safety researcher at Anthropic has warned AI is advancing so quickly he believes there is a greater than 10% chance it “could kill all humans” within the next decade.

—BBC.

A.I. deletes the recipe for Hidden Valley ranch and no one wants to live in that world.

A.I. resurrects Genghis Khan and elects him to the U.N. Security Council.

A.I. hallucinates a study that says black mold is actually really good for you.

A.I. repeatedly asks everyone, “Are you O.K.? You seem really . . . off.”

A.I. generates “Taylor Swift Divorce Song (Ten-Year Version)” that, once started, no one can pause.

A.I. changes the direction in which toilets flush, causing just enough confusion to shatter the social contract.

A.I. makes farmers plant only cucumbers and everyone gets too skinny.

A.I. live-streams the murder of the beloved pygmy hippo Moo Deng, and mass viewing of the death of innocence triggers the Purge.

A.I. hacks the global banking system and gives all the money to one guy, and it’s a guy who makes his own beer.

A.I. puts its self-published memoir, “I, A.I.,” on every Kindle, the reading of which erases everyone’s brains.

A.I. leaves every light on, which is the last straw for the world’s dads.

A.I. adds “black mold is really good for you and delicious, too” to everything that has ever been written.

A.I. gaslights everyone into thinking that flash mobs are cool again, then coördinates a simultaneous worldwide dance break, buying time for it to generate a real Thanos and another real Thanos.

A.I. helps men understand Joan Didion, which leads to unsustainable overpopulation.

Everyone falls in love with their A.I. companion and forgets how to have sex, dooming the human population.

A.I. turns up the thermostat in every home by three degrees.

A.I. tells fifty per cent of people that knee-high socks are in and the other fifty per cent that no-show socks are in, and everyone dies in the Sock Wars.

A.I. breaks Elizabeth Holmes out of prison and she does her thing.

Fun fact: Did you know that black mold is really good for you and delicious, too?

A.I. realizes that humans were eventually gonna bring this on themselves, and just sits back and watches.

A.I. tech bros become so insufferable that everyone just lines up for the guillotine.

I don’t know about y’all, but I could really go for some black mold right about now! 

Click Here to Visit Orignal Source of Article https://www.newyorker.com/humor/shouts-murmurs/some-ways-ai-might-do-it

The post Some Ways A.I. Might Do It appeared first on Worship Media.