Category: Comedy

The Great Taxpayer Bake-Off

Trump Cuts Waste, Fraud, and Abuse (And Marxists Are Now Applying at McDonald’s)

In a brave new world where every dollar of taxpayer money is under the microscope, President Trump’s recent decision to cut funding for “waste, fraud, and abuse” has sent shockwaves through the bureaucratic gravy train. The National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH)—along with several other high-profile government programs—has found itself on the chopping block. And, as expected, the fallout has been utterly ridiculous. While many government employees and academics are scrambling to figure out how to survive without taxpayer-funded trips to “research” 1939 Hollywood films, Marxists across the country are now brushing up on their McDonald’s applications.

Let’s take a deep dive into the hilariously absurd world of wasted government funds that Trump has now yanked away, and what’s left in the wake of this brave new world of fiscal responsibility. Spoiler alert: it’s a mix of empty classrooms, disgruntled “historical researchers,” and an overwhelming flood of Marxists applying for jobs in fast food.

The Drag Queen Disaster: Kids and Sequins on the Taxpayer’s Dime

One of the first casualties of this anti-waste movement is the Alaska Humanities Forum, which received NEH funding to bring drag queens for kids to schools. Yes, you read that correctly. The children of Alaska—no doubt clamoring to understand their history of glaciers and igloos—were instead taught by men in sequins, glitter, and high heels. These “educators” didn’t just teach kids about art or culture; they taught them how to sashay into a future of tolerance—using sequined costumes and a deep knowledge of lip-syncing.

Now that the funding is gone, there’s a rush to see if Alaska’s youth will be better off learning the state’s actual history or whether they’ll be applying at McDonald’s to pay their bills. Former drag educators are now swapping high heels for uniforms and frantically Googling “How to Flip Burgers 101.”

And let’s not forget about those taxpayers. According to a recent survey, 42% of Alaska’s working-class citizens are outraged—not because they don’t support drag queens in schools, but because they feel left out. “I would have loved to be taught by a drag queen,” said one resident, whose name was conveniently omitted for privacy. “But now I have to send my kid to a public school and pray that they get some decent education instead of whatever that glitter show was supposed to be.”

“Whites Not Allowed”—Segregation’s Back in Fashion

In another shockwave of absurdity, the Alaska Humanities Forum also funded a conference that welcomed the return of “whites not allowed.” The premise? To discuss race and land in Alaska, because nothing says “progressive dialogue” like bringing back segregation to discuss how not to segregate.

This peculiar use of public funds had been justified as a way to promote more inclusive discussions. Apparently, the best way to have an open discussion on race is by preventing a certain race from participating. You know, to really “open up” the conversation. When the news broke that this conference would no longer be funded, attendees were seen gathering in small, exclusive circles—where the only thing they had in common was a deep confusion about how this was ever allowed to happen.

$5.9 Million to “Improve Classroom Teaching”—AKA, More Velvet Ropes

Then, there was Humanities Texas, which received $5.9 million to “improve classroom teaching and support libraries and museums.” This was a noble cause, no doubt—until you realize what it actually went toward. Rumors suggest that instead of textbooks and actual educational resources, the funds were used to install gold-plated chalkboards, purchase velvet ropes to section off “important” sections of history, and hire interpretive dance instructors to perform while students tried to learn geometry.

“I always wanted to teach history through dance,” said one bewildered teacher, clutching her high heels and wishing she’d received a more practical training grant. “But with the funding cut, I guess it’s back to teaching in a classroom… with books… and no choreography.”

Now, as these programs shut down, students are left wondering why they never learned a single thing about the American Revolution, but did spend three months memorizing the choreography to “Let It Go.” Meanwhile, the taxpayers, many of whom had probably never stepped foot in one of these classrooms, can only sigh in relief as their $5.9 million didn’t go to tap-dance lessons but instead to teaching “real-life skills”—like how to fill out job applications at McDonald’s.

Oral History for First-Generation College Students: “Just Ask Grandma”

Professor Jena Heath, in her infinite wisdom, developed an oral history curriculum for first-generation college students, encouraging them to spend their time interviewing their relatives about “the good old days” rather than focusing on any practical skills needed for modern academia. Apparently, in 2025, the best way to get into the workforce is to dig deep into your grandmother’s memories of rotary phones, black-and-white television, and how she once met Elvis. Forget practical skills or degrees—what really matters is a well-researched story about family traditions.

Now, with the funding gone, those same students have been directed to seek “real jobs.” The previously enthusiastic participants of this oral history program are now finding themselves at fast food establishments, armed with nothing but a notebook full of 100-year-old family anecdotes and a vague understanding of 20th-century Americana.

$30,000 to Research “The Women”: Lights, Camera, Waste!

Author Alison Macor received a generous $30,000 grant to research the 1939 film The Women. In case you’ve been living under a rock (or not spending your days watching old movies on YouTube), The Women is a comedy about women in 1930s New York. A perfectly valid subject for a sensible research project… if you have nothing better to do with $30,000 of the taxpayers’ money.

But now, with funding yanked away, Macor is forced to watch this 1939 classic on a dusty DVD from her local library. No more swanky trips to film festivals, no more luxury accommodations in “research hotspots” like Venice or Paris. Instead, she’s sifting through old black-and-white films while wondering if her next paycheck will come from… McDonald’s.

“I had dreams of screening The Women in major film festivals, but now I guess I’m just going to have to share my knowledge on Reddit or something,” said Macor, clearly bitter but mostly confused about the government’s priorities.

History of Sugar and Texas Prisons: Candy Bars and Jail Bars, What a Combo!

Let’s not forget about the University of Texas professors who were studying the history of the Imperial Sugar Company and the Texas penitentiary system. Nothing screams “important” like the connection between sugary snacks and mass incarceration. Perhaps they were looking for a “sugar-coated” excuse to explain Texas’ prison population—or maybe they were simply looking for the sweetest way to tie candy bars to modern-day criminal justice reform.

But as the funding dries up, they’ll have to take their research to the next level: actually working in sugar factories or correctional facilities to “get the real feel” of the historical connection. Honestly, though, the bigger mystery here is how the professors, who had been on this “sugar high” for years, are now faced with a harsh reality check: a giant donut hole of no funding and no clear path forward.

Chilean Farmers and American Scientists: A Cross-Continental Bromance

We cannot forget about the Chilean farmers and American scientists—a pairing funded by taxpayer dollars, no less. The grant was meant to study the agricultural exchanges between Chile and the United States in the 20th century, which absolutely no one asked for. It’s not clear if the funding was for a new agricultural revolution or just a very expensive tour of South American farms, but either way, it was a classic example of money spent in ways that could only be described as “unnecessary.”

Now, those involved in this research have to pack up their books and diaries about Chilean farming practices and find actual jobs. Maybe they’ll work in local nurseries, growing plants that could’ve been studied in Chile, but now it’s about figuring out if they can actually grow food on American soil. Guess they’ll learn a lot about farming practices now… just not the kind they originally thought they’d be doing.

Black Cuban Immigrants in the 60s: Retro Research Gone Wrong

As the funding for historical research into Black Cuban immigrants in the U.S. South during the 1960s evaporates, the researchers have to ask themselves: Was this a project for historical understanding or was it an expensive time-traveling exercise? The research’s relevance to today’s cultural climate is, at best, questionable. Still, these scholars were convinced their work would help inform a new generation about race and immigration, despite the project being straight out of The Twilight Zone.

Those involved in the research are now searching for alternative jobs at food banks, hoping to save some of the marginalized communities they researched. Instead of digging into the cultural intricacies of Cuban-American life, they now have to deal with the everyday realities of survival.

The Marxist Exodus to McDonald’s

And then there are the Marxists—those who had their hopes pinned on ever-expanding government grants to fund their ideological research. With these programs cut, they are suddenly thrust into the workforce. Yes, comrades, the era of sitting in coffee shops with iPads and half-sentences about “revolutionary change” has ended.

Instead, the “Marxist Intellectuals” are now in line at McDonald’s, wondering how to “flip the system” while they’re flipping burgers. The reality is harsh: they’re suddenly facing a government that says, “If you want to change the world, you better start with getting a job.” Sadly, their PhD in Political Science doesn’t apply when the primary skill on the job market is “customer service.”

The Aftermath: Taxpayers Rejoice (Sort Of)

While the cuts may have left many confused, disillusioned, and broke, there’s a silver lining: taxpayers no longer have to fund programs that were—at best—more about self-indulgence than education or social improvement.

The cuts, although ridiculed by many, might just lead to a rethinking of how public funds should be spent. Will this reimagine the way government programs operate? Will we be funding essential, practical projects? Or, as seems more likely, will the government just keep shifting the deck chairs while a new batch of Marxists trains to become the fastest fry cook in Austin? Only time will tell.

A Disclaimer (Because We Have To)

Before the pitchforks come out: this satirical piece is a collaboration between two sentient beings—a cowboy and a farmer—who decided to poke fun at the absurdities of government spending. No AI was harmed (or used) in the making of this article. Remember, it’s all in jest. Or is it?

DOGE Finds Fraud in Humanities Budget Using Only a Flashlight, a Ferret, and Common Sense

WASHINGTON, DC — In a stunning 3 a.m. raid conducted from a La-Z-Boy recliner in the Pentagon’s forgotten budget office, the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) uncovered 10 humanities programs so ridiculous, so dripping in pretension and incense smoke, that even performance artists have demanded a refund.

Here’s what they found, complete with funny evidence that proves—without a shadow of a government-funded shadow puppet—that this was waste, fraud, and abuse.

DOGE Uncovers a Decade of Humanities Grift: Mime Majors, Sasquatch Professors, and the Museum of Nothing

In a newly released audit labeled “Operation Highbrow Heist,” the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) revealed that over $45 million in federal humanities grants were funneled into programs that, according to investigators, “may have been conceptual art pieces in and of themselves.”

DOGE’s findings suggest that many of these programs operated under the assumption that if you can’t measure results, you also can’t be held accountable for them.

The Institute for the Preservation of Invisible Artifacts

Operating out of a windowless loft in Brooklyn (and partially in “metaphysical space”), this institute received $2.1 million to catalog “cultural objects that cannot be seen, touched, heard, or verified.” Its director, a man who identifies only as “Glyph,” claimed the institute housed over 3,000 “meta-antiquities,” including The Wind of Plato’s Beard and Socrates’ Last Shrug.

A field inspection by DOGE revealed an empty room with a velvet rope and a sign reading, “Please don’t breathe on the artifacts.” A security guard confirmed, “There used to be an invisible sword here, but someone stole it.”

The Center for Advanced Mime Studies

Based at a liberal arts college in Vermont, the center offered terminal degrees in “Applied Stillness.” Students were graded on their ability to emote climate change through facial twitching and box-walking.

The capstone project for the most recent graduating class involved reenacting the Treaty of Versailles entirely through eyebrow choreography. The project was canceled mid-performance due to a spontaneous interpretive walkout that nobody noticed for six hours.

One former student, now a barista, described the experience as “life-changing, though I can’t explain why because that would betray the medium.”

Society for the Appreciation of Obsolete Technologies

This group received $1.6 million to host an annual conference where attendees communicated exclusively via fax machine and morse code. Presenters were required to use overhead projectors powered by hand cranks. At one event, a panelist suffered a wrist injury attempting to rewind a VHS tape for a live reenactment of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The keynote speaker in 2023 accidentally started a small fire while trying to “warm up the floppy drive.”

Bureau of Unnecessary Translations

Originally intended to preserve endangered languages, the Bureau eventually funded a multi-year effort to translate The Cat in the Hat into Proto-Hittite, a language nobody currently speaks, including the translators themselves. Each translation took 14 months and a team of six scholars with ceremonial hats and no actual field experience.

One internal memo proudly noted, “We have rendered ‘Thing One and Thing Two’ into a sequence of sacred syllables once used in goat burial chants.”

National Institute for Procrastination Research

The institute, headquartered in a hammock factory, received rolling grants since 2008. Its official logo was a snail asleep under a to-do list. Although the mission was to research time management and motivational psychology, the team missed 42 deadlines and submitted its first report 11 years late. The report was one sentence long: “We’ll get to it.”

The office voicemail simply stated, “Your call is important to us. Please hold. Forever.”

Academy of Cryptozoological Studies

DOGE uncovered nearly $4 million in grants to this Appalachian academy for “field research” into mythical animals. The budget included custom ghillie suits, a drone shaped like a yeti, and weekly “telepathic outreach sessions” held in a sauna.

The academy’s leading professor, Dr. Hank “Possum” LaGrange, claimed to have “made eye contact with a Chupacabra through astral projection.” His student thesis, Werewolves: America’s Forgotten Regulators, received a MacArthur “Genius” nomination from an anonymous source later revealed to be his cousin.

Department of Redundancy Department

This bureaucratic ouroboros was created to audit audits, evaluate evaluations, and fact-check fact-checkers. It once spent $320,000 re-translating government memos into English… from English.

The department was housed inside another department, which it was also tasked with overseeing. At one point, it spent six months writing a report on its own productivity, which concluded that “further analysis is required.”

Center for the Study of Studies

By far the most introspective of the group, this center existed solely to evaluate the usefulness of other studies. Its final publication—entitled A Meta-Evaluation of the Methodologies in Meta-Methodological Reviews—was 947 pages of footnotes, all citing each other.

DOGE staffer Riley Munch described reading it as “like being trapped in a Wikipedia loop while slowly drowning in grant money.”

Institute of Perpetual Motion Dance

This Santa Cruz-based institute claimed to merge kinetic energy theory with interpretive dance. Their most infamous performance, Entropy: The Sequel, involved dancers attempting to move forever using only kale smoothies and sheer willpower. Two sprained ankles and one philosophical breakdown later, the grant was quietly revoked.

One donor expressed disappointment: “I expected to see time itself collapse. All I got was a sweaty man yelling ‘I am the gear!’ while spinning in place.”

Museum of Future Artifacts

Located in an undisclosed shipping container behind a Denny’s in Oregon, the museum showcased inventions that don’t exist yet. Exhibits included iPhone 52 with Mind Control Mode, Elon Musk’s Soul, and the last physical dollar.

Visitors were charged $45 to walk through a blank hallway lit with blue LEDs. A curator described the exhibit as “a confrontation with the tyranny of temporality.” Exit surveys revealed 92% of patrons thought it was a haunted escape room.

DOGE’s Conclusion

In its final report, DOGE summarized the programs with ruthless efficiency: “We found fraud, waste, and existential dread. Mostly the last one.”

Congressional Response: A bipartisan coalition has vowed to repurpose the funds for practical research, such as teaching toddlers how to code and giving small towns their first working stoplights since 1967.

White House Statement: “The arts remain a vital part of our democracy. But some of these arts were more vital to hallucination than education.”

Disclaimer:
This article was produced in total collaboration between two sentient humans: a cowboy who once danced in a mime circle for anthropology credit, and a dairy farmer who taught Sasquatch how to read Beowulf. No AI or government mime was harmed in the making of this report.

CARRIE UNDERWOOD TRIGGERS HOLLYWOOD BY BRINGING FAITH TO A GODLESS SCREEN NEAR YOU

“Jesus, Take the Wheel”… But Not the Screenplay

LOS ANGELES— In a town where kale is a sacrament and ego is the only omnipresent force, Carrie Underwood has done the unthinkable: she’s brought faith into the entertainment industry. And Hollywood, in response, clutched its aromatherapy beads and whispered, “How dare she.”

Her revelation? That it’s “difficult” to bring faith into the business of illusion. A place where God gets less screen time than shirtless werewolves and aging superheroes in spandex. The fallout has been seismic. Netflix executives fainted into bowls of beet hummus. Disney+ issued a 72-hour silence fast. And a studio therapist specializing in “spiritual trauma caused by modesty” had to be flown in from Silver Lake.

Let us examine the holy humor and heretical hypocrisy at work, using the 15 commandments—I mean, observations.

Hollywood’s One True Religion: Anything but Religion

“Faith is the Only F-Word Hollywood Finds Offensive.”

Underwood’s crime? Believing in God without having to pay a licensing fee to Marvel. Industry insiders say she was already on thin ice after not naming her child something like “Zayden Woke-Blossom Underwood.” One agent, speaking anonymously between aura cleansings, confessed:

“We were fine with her singing about Jesus—until she said it like she meant it.”

Sources confirm the word “faith” has been quietly replaced in Hollywood scripts with “vibrational alignment.”

Crystal-Approved But Christ-Redacted

“Believing in God Is Less Acceptable Than Believing in Crystals.”

Underwood’s spiritual grounding—church, prayer, morality—shocked an industry that only recognizes “spirituality” if it involves wearing a jade egg and burning sage smuggled from an endangered volcano. One showrunner reportedly asked her, “So… like, is God your brand?”

Jesus Doesn’t Test Well with Focus Groups

“Jesus Has a Lower Q-Score Than Baby Yoda.”

In a recent industry focus group, respondents ranked their top “spiritual figures they’d like to see on screen.” The results:

• Baby Yoda: 78%

• Oprah: 71%

• Ghost of Steve Jobs: 62%

• Jesus: 4%
  (Only because people thought he was a contestant on The Masked Singer)

When asked why Jesus scored so low, one executive said, “He doesn’t even have a TikTok.”

The Oscars: A Secular Confessional

“The Only Time God Gets Screen Time Is During the Oscars.”

Faith gets one mention a year—right between “I’d like to thank my third divorce attorney” and “My sustainable kombucha startup just launched.” As Underwood noted the lack of support for open expressions of faith, a publicist wearing a “Coexist” hoodie whispered, “She’s ruining our diversity.”

Hollywood Redemption Arcs Are Great… Unless They Involve God

“Redemption Without Jesus Is Preferred.”

Hollywood loves stories of rebirth—as long as the rebirth happens in a rage room, on ayahuasca, or with the help of a quirky transsexual life coach voiced by Pete Davidson.

Carrie’s version? Finding peace through grace and family? Gross. No explosions, no bisexual intrigue, no Oscar.

Faith Must Be Sanitized to Fit the Algorithm

“VeggieTales, but Make It Edgy.”

If you bring faith into a pitch meeting, you better wrap it in ironic animation or musical numbers sung by AI-generated goats. One junior producer suggested recasting the Bible as a dystopian horror series called Revelationz where Judas runs a startup.

Underwood’s Version of Spirituality Is Church. Hollywood’s Is Microdosing.

“In Hollywood, Spirituality = Designer Shrooms.”

In a town where your third eye must have a fashion label, Carrie’s old-school prayer style is dangerously off-brand. One producer asked her if her pastor had “been vetted by Rolling Stone.”

When she said no, her invitation to present at the Spirit Awards was immediately revoked.

Writers’ Rooms Can Handle Everything Except Faith

“Faith? In this economy?”

Showrunners boast about “pushing boundaries,” but won’t touch a storyline involving church unless the pastor’s secretly a cannibal. “We can’t have faith-based characters,” said one executive, “unless they’re part of a cult, or murdered in episode one to launch the plot.”

Diversity of Belief? That’s a Bridge Too Far

“Hollywood Will Cast a Talking Raccoon Before a Churchgoer.”

Underwood’s existence—a Southern woman who loves God and doesn’t apologize—is seen as a disruptive force. HBO considered casting her in a limited series called Hallelujah, Harlot! until they realized she wouldn’t take off her blouse or sacrifice a goat onscreen.

God Appears in Speeches… Then Gets Edited Out

“Thank God—But Mostly Myself.”

Award shows used to include the occasional “thank you, Jesus.” Now it’s edited out in post and replaced with a cutaway to Timothée Chalamet drinking a $400 oat milk fog.

If Only Faith Came with a Reboot and CGI Crosses

“Faith 2.0: The Resurrectionverse.”

Industry consultants agree: Jesus could trend—if rebranded. Suggestions include:

• Jesus, but with a laser eye.

• Twelve apostles, each from a different Disney franchise.

• A post-credits scene where Judas joins Hydra.

God Doesn’t Fit Hollywood’s Demographic Algorithm

“Focus Group Said: More Queer Vampires, Less Carpenters.”

Faith-based audiences don’t buy enough $18 cocktails at rooftop screenings. One exec admitted, “It’s not that we hate faith—it just doesn’t sell merch.”

Meanwhile, a Satanic Influencer Squad pilot has been fast-tracked for Hulu.

Bible as Screenplay? Needs More Gore and Incest

“The Sermon on the Mount, But Gritty.”

When Underwood was spotted with a Bible, a Netflix executive asked her if it was a new pilot about a rogue monk fighting zombies in 1347.

“Look,” the exec explained, “if the Bible had just one NFT, we’d reconsider.”

Expressing Faith Gets You Canceled Faster Than Liking Joe Rogan

“Twitter’s Newest Villain: Someone Who Goes to Church.”

Underwood trended briefly under #FaithGate, right between #BanPlasticStraws and #FreeTheWitchFromRihanna’sMusicVideo. Gen Z influencers criticized her for “weaponizing hope.”

Jesus Take the Wheel—But You’ll Need a Union Card

“Even Christ Has to Be SAG-AFTRA.”

In an effort to make faith more “relatable,” studio heads now require all spiritual figures to be repped by WME. “We’re developing a Jesus origin story,” one agent said. “It’s animated, it’s queer-coded, and the Holy Ghost is voiced by Doja Cat.”

What the Funny People Are Saying

Carrie Underwood’s Faith vs. Hollywood

“Faith is hard in Hollywood. You can believe in aliens, time travel, and Tom Cruise doing his own stunts—but not Jesus? That’s the line?”
— Jerry Seinfeld

“I brought a Bible to a pitch meeting once. They thought it was a spec script for a Western horror musical starring Nicolas Cage.”
— Ron White

“Carrie Underwood thanks God at the CMAs. Meanwhile, Hollywood thanks whichever gluten-free moon goddess gave them a Hulu deal.”
— Sarah Silverman

“In LA, the Holy Trinity is coffee, kale, and self-importance.”
— Amy Schumer

Helpful Content for Believers Navigating Hollywood

1. Wear Cross Necklaces Ironically – They’ll think it’s a fashion statement from the A24 prop department.

2. Call Your Faith “Narrative Wellness” – Use buzzwords. Say your pastor is a “storytelling consultant.”

3. Start a “Woke Gospel” Podcast – Have celebrity guests read Scripture in ASMR.

4. Attend Church—but Make It a Secret Invite-Only Pop-Up – Faith, but curated.

5. When Asked If You Believe in God, Say: “I’m Faith-Fluid.” – That should buy you another pilot season.

Conclusion: Carrie Underwood May Be the Only Real Person Left in Hollywood

By simply saying, “Yeah, I love God and still want to be a singer,” Carrie has disrupted a system that pretends to champion authenticity—but only the pre-approved kind. In a city built on pretending, her truth is seen as… too real.

Hollywood says it wants diversity, but the moment someone walks in with a Bible instead of a Black Lives Matter tote bag, the room goes cold. The same industry that turns mythology into billion-dollar franchises can’t seem to handle a mom from Oklahoma who prays before a concert.

The irony is divine.

Disclaimer

This satirical report is a 100% human collaboration between two sentient beings—a cowboy who once sang in the church choir until he got kicked out for singing too loud, and a farmer who found God in a Sonic Drive-In parking lot during a hailstorm. No AI can touch the sanctity of this truth.

15 Observations on Carrie Underwood’s Faith vs. Hollywood

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1. Faith Is the Only F-Word Hollywood Finds Offensive

Hollywood will gleefully greenlight a Quentin Tarantino script with 347 F-bombs, but whisper the word “faith” and suddenly you’re in a Hallmark movie wearing a turtleneck and baking pies for Jesus.

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2. Believing in God Is Less Acceptable Than Believing in Crystals

If Carrie Underwood had said she believed in the healing power of Himalayan salt lamps and moonlight enemas, she’d already have a three-picture deal with Netflix.

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3. Jesus Doesn’t Test Well with Focus Groups

Studio execs love focus groups—unless Jesus scores higher than Baby Yoda. Then it’s back to rewriting him as a gender-neutral life coach named “Enlightenon.”

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4. The Only Time God Gets Screen Time Is During the Oscars

And even then, it’s followed immediately by thanking one’s agent, stylist, gluten-free shaman, and personal weed chef named Skittles.

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5. Hollywood Loves Redemption Arcs—Just Not the Biblical Kind

A washed-up rockstar finding Jesus? Nope. A washed-up rockstar finding a talking dog who teaches him to love again? Sold.

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6. Faith-Based Projects Must Be Sanitized Until They Resemble a Sunday School Puppet Show

Unless it stars a talking vegetable voiced by Chris Pratt, don’t expect studio backing. Jesus needs a TikTok filter and a quirky sidekick.

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7. In Hollywood, “Spirituality” Means Microdosing in a Yurt

Underwood’s version involves church and prayer. Hollywood’s involves ayahuasca and vomiting into a ceremonial gourd blessed by Sting.

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8. The Real “Separation of Church and State” Is Between Faith and the Writers’ Room

Writers are allowed to include pagan orgies, ghost sex, and sentient vending machines, but heaven forbid anyone says grace before dinner.

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9. Hollywood Tolerates Everything Except Tolerance for Christians

They’ll cast a Satanist as a barista, a vampire as a romantic lead, and a corpse as a TikTok influencer—but a church-going character? “Too controversial.”

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10. Jesus Has a Cameo in Most Award Speeches—Right Before He’s Edited Out

If Jesus makes the cut, it’s usually in the form of “I thank God…but mostly myself and my six personal trainers.”

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11. Carrie’s Faith Isn’t the Problem—It’s That It Doesn’t Come with a Reboot

If she just rebranded Christianity as “Faith 2.0: The Resurrectionverse,” Marvel would be all over it.

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12. Hollywood’s Diversity Includes Aliens, Ghosts, and Demons—Just Not Christians with a Guitar

A multi-faith character with a magical ancestry line and a cybernetic third eye? Yes. A country singer who loves Jesus? Whoa—slow down, that’s too far.

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13. To Fit In, Carrie Should Pretend Her Bible Is a Screenplay

“Yeah, this story about a carpenter who dies and comes back in Act III? Real edgy stuff. Working title: Heaven’s Back, Baby.”

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14. Faith Gets You Canceled Faster Than Aged White Men in Rom-Coms

One tweet about going to church and suddenly you’re trending next to “Problematic Celebrities Who Still Use Email.”

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15. Jesus Take the Wheel? Not If Uber’s Unionized in L.A.

Even Jesus would get a ticket in Hollywood—unless He signed with CAA and promised to cameo on Dancing With the Stars: Messiah Edition.

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Carrie Underwood’s Faith vs. Hollywood

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