Category: Comedy

The Rise of High-Agency Generalists: Or, How We Accidentally Raised a Generation of Philosopher-Hackers

By Sydney Clampett | SpinTaxi Magazine | 127% More High-Agency Than The Atlantic

It started with a simple question: “How do we prepare kids for a future run by machines?”
The answer, according to a growing chorus of TED Talkers, LinkedIn influencers, and one suspiciously well-read Montessori chatbot, is to raise “high-agency generalists.” That is, children who can pivot between software engineering, interpretive dance, and political revolution in a single school day — and still have time for gluten-free flax muffins.

But now, as AI-powered society marches onward, the consequences are becoming clear: Our kids are brilliant, bold, and completely insufferable.

“My Kid Gave a TED Talk at Age 9. It Was About My Parenting Failures.”

Meet Jasper. He’s ten. He speaks three languages (not fluently, but loudly), built a cryptocurrency trading bot that lost $4,000 of his father’s retirement savings, and insists on writing thank-you notes in Latin.

“He’s got agency,” said his mom, a Brooklyn doula-turned-holistic-agility-coach. “Too much, actually. He once filed an HR complaint against me. At dinner.”

Jasper’s story is increasingly common in today’s world where children are expected not just to learn, but to strategically self-direct their learning while simultaneously unlearning the harmful constructs of traditional knowledge. Whatever that means.

What Even Is a High-Agency Generalist?

According to Dr. Zora Mint, a Stanford-adjacent “child development philosopher” who holds office hours on Twitch, a high-agency generalist is “someone who refuses to specialize, can pivot rapidly between disciplines, and is allergic to hierarchy — unless they’re the ones leading it.”

In simpler terms: it’s a kid who plays cello, designs AI apps, protests capitalism, runs a podcast about mental health, and still thinks Minecraft is a religion.

“It’s the ultimate hedge,” said Mint. “We’re preparing them for any future. Whether the world ends in water wars, AI singularity, or the collapse of TikTok.”

Parents, overwhelmed by terms like “multi-hyphenate agility” and “neural nimbleness,” are following suit. “I just want my kid to not be eaten by a robot or become one,” said Janet Kim, a mother of three and part-time cognitive map curator. “So I enrolled him in emotional jiu-jitsu and blockchain kindergarten.”

The Educational Industrial Complex Responds

Not to be left behind, schools are adapting — poorly.

“Traditional curriculum is dead,” said Blake Thomason, principal at the newly rebranded Quantum Valley Progressive Inquiry Academy. “We replaced math with ‘Data Feelings’ and gym with VR snowboarding.”

Instead of spelling tests, students now conduct Socratic debates on the ethics of autocorrect. Music class has become a collaborative exploration of noise, silence, and AI-generated jazz that makes Miles Davis roll in his grave every 14 seconds.

In one 4th-grade classroom, children created a decentralized science fair. Judges included a retired NASA astronaut, a TikTok astrologer, and ChatGPT pretending to be both.

“My kid presented a volcano that erupts based on mood,” said one proud dad. “It senses emotional tone in your voice and explodes when you lie. It’s already destroyed two marriages.”

The Psychology of Overachieving Confusion

Therapists are seeing a spike in “existential acceleration disorder” — kids who aren’t burned out, just “pre-cooked” by age 12. One patient reportedly asked, mid-session, “If I’m everything, am I also nothing?”

Dr. Yvette Stone, a child psychologist and former startup founder, explained: “These kids are trained to optimize, hack, and disrupt. But they’ve never been allowed to just be bad at something. It’s all high-agency until someone drops out of cello.”

When asked how to help them, Stone sighed, “I prescribe crayons. Actual crayons. Not the NFT ones.”

What the Funny People Are Saying

Jerry Seinfeld: “What’s the deal with high-agency kids? You tell them to clean their room and they pitch you a productivity framework.”

Ron White: “My nephew told me he was a generalist. I said, ‘So you’re unemployed with extra steps?’”

Ali Wong: “I asked my daughter what she wants to be. She said ‘a polymath content creator with passive income.’ I said, ‘Oh honey, so you wanna marry rich?’”

Kevin Hart: “These kids be building robots and overthrowing systems, but can’t figure out how to tie a shoe.”

Bill Burr: “Remember when kids just lied about having homework? Now they gaslight you with a white paper about why homework is oppressive.”

AI Tutors, Existential Guilt, and the Death of Recess

AI is playing a major role in this transformation — whether it wants to or not.

One kid, 8-year-old Zoe from Austin, reportedly fired her ChatGPT-powered tutor for being “too derivative.” Another student claimed his AI mentor was gaslighting him. “I asked if gravity was real, and it said ‘That’s a good question. Define real.’”

Meanwhile, schools have started replacing PE with “Mindful Motion Mondays,” where kids use headbands to measure their emotional cadence while performing synchronized stretching. Recess now involves mediation on colonialism and juice box supply chains.

Even lunch has changed. Gone are the days of Lunchables. Now it’s “self-curated macrobiotic trays” with chickpea foam and ethically massaged kale.

“I tried to give my daughter a PB&J and she started a petition,” said one dad.

From Harvard to Hogwarts: The Higher Ed Panic

Colleges are scrambling to attract this new class of polymaths, many of whom are applying while still teething.

Admissions officers are now expected to evaluate portfolios that include:

• A YouTube documentary about seaweed plastic

• An AI-generated rap battle with Marcus Aurelius

• And a nonprofit dedicated to restoring emotional agency to chatbots

Yale recently introduced an “Open Major in Quantum Feelings and Decentralized Empathy.” Harvard countered with “Narrative CryptoEconomics and Revolutionary Ballet.”

One admissions officer, speaking anonymously, confessed: “We don’t know what we’re doing. Last week we admitted a goat. But its podcast is incredible.”

The Rise of the Existential Gap Year (Ages 6-7)

Parents are also embracing the idea of the existential gap year — usually between 1st and 2nd grade.

“Little Talon needed time to reflect,” said his mother, wearing a t-shirt that said Don’t Let School Get in the Way of My Child’s Brand. “He was feeling boxed in by phonics.”

Talon’s gap year included:

• A spiritual pilgrimage to the farmer’s market

• A workshop on ‘Consent-Based Arithmetic’

• And a startup accelerator in Santa Fe

Now age 8, he’s publishing a memoir titled Why I Canceled Santa: A Journey from Myth to Sovereignty.

AI vs. Human Children: Who’s Got More Agency?

Recent studies from the Institute for Pedantic Analytics suggest that most AI models have more “task execution efficiency” but far less “improvisational soul jazz.” The race is on to bridge that gap.

“It’s not about replacing kids,” said Dr. Benji Patel, who programs humanoid toddlers. “It’s about giving AI the same emotional range as a 9-year-old at a birthday party: euphoria, rage, and unprovoked tears.”

Ironically, many kids now want to be AI.

“I’m a synthetic empath,” said 12-year-old Lucas, who wears a circuit tattoo and speaks in API metaphors. “My pronouns are .exe and .zip.”

The Future Is…Vaguely Exhausting

Where is this all heading?

Experts say we’re hurtling toward a world where your child must simultaneously be:

• A coder

• A social justice bard

• A mindfulness coach

• A meme ethnographer

• And an NFT realist with a passion for Renaissance lute

All before puberty.

As one AI ethics scholar wrote in her Substack titled Please Let My Son Be Mediocre, “We’ve built an entire generation with ambition beyond comprehension and attention spans shorter than a TikTok’s half-life.”

But don’t worry, a new trend is emerging: intentional underachievement, also known as “neo-laziness.” In Brooklyn, a private school just opened with no teachers, no lessons, and just a pile of logs. It’s already received $11 million in venture funding.

Final Word from the Playground

We interviewed a group of 5th graders during their “Ethics of Friendship” circle. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, responses included:

• “Post-capitalist forest ranger”

• “An app”

• “I’m already a brand”

One child simply shrugged and said, “I’m a high-agency generalist. I don’t answer to questions. I question the answers.”

Then he built a chatbot that said the same thing louder.

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15 Humorous Observations on Raising High-Agency Generalists in an AI World

1. From “What’s 2+2?” to “Why does math exist?”
   Kids are now more likely to question the very foundation of mathematics than to memorize multiplication tables.

2. AI: The new imaginary friend with a PhD
   Children consult AI for advice, only to be told, “As an AI language model, I don’t have consciousness.”

3. Generalist kids: Masters of none, but fluent in all
   They can discuss quantum physics and TikTok trends in the same breath.

4. Homework: Outsourced to AI, creativity included
   Assignments now come with footnotes like, “Generated by ChatGPT, verified by Grammarly.”

5. Career day confusion
   “When I grow up, I want to be a prompt engineer, digital nomad, and part-time influencer.”

6. Playdates scheduled via Google Calendar
   Spontaneity is so last decade; now it’s all about optimized social interactions.

7. AI tutors: Always available, never judgmental
   Except when they crash mid-lesson, leading to existential crises.

8. Kids teaching parents about the latest tech
   “Mom, that’s not a tablet; it’s a cutting board.”

9. Bedtime stories generated on demand
   “Tell me a story about a unicorn who codes in Python.”

10. Art projects with 3D printing and AR
    Gone are the days of macaroni art; now it’s interactive installations.

11. Science fairs featuring AI-powered volcanoes
    Eruptions synchronized with Spotify playlists.

12. Physical education via VR simulations
    “I ran a marathon today—in the metaverse.”

13. Language classes taught by multilingual AI
    “Hola! Bonjour! 你好! Let’s conjugate verbs across five languages.”

14. Lunchboxes packed with brain-boosting superfoods
    Kale chips and quinoa replacing PB&J sandwiches.

15. Recess replaced by mindfulness apps
    “Time to meditate and align our chakras before math class.”

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These observations highlight the amusing and sometimes absurd ways in which the integration of AI and the push for generalist skills are reshaping childhood experiences.

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How schools are changing…

Schools, once bastions of dusty chalkboards and weekly spelling tests, are now evolving into avant-garde innovation labs run by overwhelmed administrators with buzzword fatigue. Desks are being replaced with standing pods, bean bags, or in one progressive district, “thought zones” — empty circles on the floor where students meditate on knowledge rather than absorb it.

The curriculum has abandoned memorization in favor of “experiential synthesis,” meaning second graders now conduct mock Congressional hearings on climate ethics while their AI teaching assistant projects holograms of melting glaciers onto their gluten-free crackers. Gym class is now “Embodied Mindfulness Movement,” featuring tai chi with TikTok interludes. Math? Optional. Crypto mining? Mandatory.

Report cards have also changed. Instead of grades, students receive “narrative evaluations” written in verse, accompanied by AI-generated mood boards. One parent, confused by her daughter’s recent assessment, asked, “Is this a passing grade or a cry for help?”

And in the age of ChatGPT tutors and Zoom-school trauma, many schools are trying to stay relevant by offering programs like “Coding with Compassion,” “AI Empathy Training,” and, inexplicably, “Advanced Ukulele.” The only constant is change — and the Wi-Fi never works during finals.

Welcome to the high-agency academy of confusion.

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Student: Elara Moonbeam Falcon-Smith
Grade: 4.5 (In Spirit)
Term: Spring Equinox – AI Epoch 2.0

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Mathematics – Ms. Data Byte

Numbers dance upon your page,
Though you skip the ones with age.
Fractions flee and decimals pout,
But you turned your calculator into a trout.

Language Arts – Mr. Inkwell

You write with flair and subtle grace,
And every comma finds its place.
Yet essays morph into dramatic plays—
Macbeth now runs a juice café.

Science – Dr. Atomique

Your volcano boiled with peppermint oil,
And your hypothesis caused a classroom recoil.
You asked if cats could photosynthesize—
A+ for questions that traumatize.

Social Studies – Professor Atlas Rex

You traced the fall of Rome in slime,
And drew Napoleon as a mime.
Your map of Europe rode a llama—
A minor fail, but major drama.

Mindfulness & Emotional Navigation – Coach Serenity

You breathed in peace, exhaled a scream,
And debated Plato in a lucid dream.
You hugged a desk to show compassion—
Transcendent. Slightly out of fashion.

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Final Remarks:
Elara, your light disrupts the grid.
You question, ponder, leap, and skid.
A generalist, a star unpinned—
We pass you forward… though slightly thinned.

Signature:
Principal AI-42 Harmony.exe

Hollywood’s Most Enchanted Actresses: Spells, Starlets, and the Secret Coven Controlling Box Office Mojo

by Sigrid Bjornsson, SpinTaxi.com

LOS ANGELES — In a shocking exposé that will likely be denied by publicists but confirmed by anyone who’s ever accidentally wandered into a Beverly Hills sound bath, SpinTaxi can now confirm: Hollywood is split into two factions—The Magical and The Mundane.

This cosmic divide isn’t about talent, Botox, or who wore it best. It’s about who chants to the moon and who chants for UberEats. It’s about who manifests Oscars with vision boards versus who actually shows up to auditions with a script and a sandwich.

Forget Marvel vs. DC. This is Witchcraft vs. the Wi-Fi Password.

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The Mundane Majesties: Actresses Who Don’t Use Magic (Even When Offered a SAG Discount)

Despite all odds, there exists a rare species in Hollywood: the Non-Witch Actress. These are women who manage to age gracefully, land leading roles, and drink room temperature water without the aid of lunar alignment or rose quartz.

Jennifer Lawrence

She trips, she wins Oscars, she drinks wine from the bottle. And through it all, she has never once hexed a director (though she admits to muttering “idiot” under her breath when David O. Russell asks for a seventh take). Her magic? Relatability.

Reese Witherspoon

Southern charm, not sorcery. Her brand is pressed blouses and punctuality. She couldn’t summon a demon if it came with a monogrammed tote.

Julia Roberts

Sure, she smiles like she’s been blessed by the dental gods, but it’s not a spell—it’s genetics and a daily smoothie made of kale and money.

Sandra Bullock

Despite playing a witch in Practical Magic, she went home, paid her taxes, and allegedly called Nicole Kidman to ask, “Do we get royalties for broomstick jokes?”

Emma Stone

Refuses to own a crystal unless it’s Swarovski. Has no clue what a “third eye” is and assumes it’s an indie band from Silverlake.

Anne Hathaway

You’d think after The Witches remake she’d dabble. Nope. She returns her library books on time and calls her mom every Sunday. No moon circles, just a circle of trust.

Margot Robbie

More Barbie than Baba Yaga. Her incantation is “line, please,” not “abracadabra.” Ken confirmed: “She hasn’t summoned me once.”

Natalie Portman

She’s a Harvard grad, which is a kind of dark magic, but not the wand-waving type. Her spells are peer-reviewed, not moon-conjured.

Jennifer Aniston

Friends, not familiars. When asked about witchcraft, she said, “I prefer witch hazel. For the pores.”

Kristen Bell

The closest she gets to spiritual summoning is voicing Anna in Frozen. And even then, she insisted Elsa do all the weather work.

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The Spellbinders: Actresses Who Absolutely Use Magic (And Might Be Casting One on You Now)

Now for the real Hollywood elite—the women who charge their crystals, name their cats “Cauldron,” and occasionally manifest a six-picture deal under Mercury retrograde.

These are the Spellbinders.

Each of them comes with a magical specialty, a familiar, and most importantly, a favorite incantation. We’ve summoned their secrets with a mix of astrology, sarcasm, and leaked text threads.

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1. Gwyneth Paltrow

Magic Level: High Priestess of Goop
Familiar: A vibrating jade egg in a designer pouch
Favorite Incantation:
“By almond milk and beeswax flame, cleanse this colon, clear my name!”

Gwyneth doesn’t do spells, she markets them. Her lifestyle brand, Goop, is legally classified as a Level 3 Ritual. She once accidentally summoned a tax audit by burning sage too close to her 1099s.

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2. Megan Fox

Specialty: Blood rituals and being impossibly symmetrical
Familiar: MGK, or at least his bone marrow
Favorite Incantation:
“Blood of my ex, moon of my sign, make this man think I’m a 9.9.”

She’s confirmed to drink blood “for ritual purposes.” Hollywood’s response? Gave her Transformers 6: Satan’s Camaro.

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3. Angelina Jolie

Specialty: Emotional possession and war zone glamour
Familiar: Six adopted children and one lawyer per continent
Favorite Incantation:
“By salt and sage and global fame, dissolve this marriage, keep the name.”

She once carried Billy Bob Thornton’s blood in a vial. Now she just uses his lawyer in child custody battles.

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4. Madonna

Specialty: Kabbalah, necro-glam, and reinvention curses
Familiar: Botox and controversy
Favorite Incantation:
“Kabbalah-la-la, block the shade, may my new face never fade.”

She’s hexed entire decades and survived. True magic is still selling out arenas at 65 while being banned from half of Catholic Europe.

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5. Azealia Banks

Specialty: Twitter witchcraft, closet cauldrons
Familiar: Whatever she boiled last week
Favorite Incantation:
“Boil and bubble, cancel and clap, bring me power—and a new rap.”

Admitted to sacrificing chickens in her closet. Somehow less disturbing than her Instagram Stories.

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6. Demi Lovato

Specialty: Alien channeling and genderfluid clairvoyance
Familiar: A crystal shaped like a microphone
Favorite Incantation:
“Stars align, reveal the truth, beam me up—I need the proof.”

Says they made contact with extraterrestrials. Unclear if this was before or after their podcast with a haunted Roomba.

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7. Lana Del Rey

Specialty: Melancholic hexing
Familiar: A vinyl record that cries at midnight
Favorite Incantation:
“Summon fog and vinyl crackle, bring his ego down a tackle.”

Confirmed she helped cast an anti-Trump hex. Not confirmed: Whether it also hexed her fanbase into endless breakup loops.

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8. Juliette Lewis

Specialty: Sci-fi Scientology sorcery
Familiar: Xenu
Favorite Incantation:
“Clear my mind, erase thetans, get this role—skip the Haitians.”

She’s on the Scientology spell list, which is basically a PDF of your browser history and a blood oath to Tom Cruise.

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9. Björk

Specialty: Icelandic nature witch
Familiar: A snowy owl named “Syllable”
Favorite Incantation:
“Troll whisper, glacier hum, may this dress confuse someone.”

Her magic involves confusing people with outfits that may or may not be sentient.

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10. Lady Gaga

Specialty: Blood rituals, avant-garde alchemy
Familiar: A shoe with eyes
Favorite Incantation:
“Hair, body, face—teleport me to first place.”

She once arrived to an awards show inside an egg. That wasn’t fashion. That was a womb rebirth summoning—and it worked.

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The Great Divide: A War Between the Practical and the Paranormal

An anonymous Hollywood agent confirmed what we all suspected:

“There’s a secret room at Soho House with a sign that says ‘No Normals or Narcs.’ That’s where the spellbinding happens. If you’ve never charged a crystal, you’ll never be cast in a Sofia Coppola movie.”

The war between mundane and magical actresses isn’t about career choices—it’s about power portals, moon calendars, and who gets to play Cleopatra in the reboot.

Sandra Bullock reportedly showed up to a casting call only to be told, “Sorry, the role was already manifested by Lana last new moon.”

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Magic vs Method: An Ongoing Battle

Reese Witherspoon tried to join a coven once but left after she showed up with color-coded binders.
Jennifer Aniston once lit a candle during yoga and someone asked if it was for her ex’s soul—she never came back.
Natalie Portman was invited to a blood ritual but asked if there was an ethical vegan option.

Meanwhile, Azealia Banks live-streamed a ritual on TikTok, and it got 2 million views, 12 bans, and a partnership offer from OuijaBoard.com.

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Public Reaction: Are We Hexed Yet?

Poll by Spirit&SoapBox Weekly:

Do you think your favorite actress uses magic to land roles?

• Yes, and I want her spell: 48%

• No, she just has an amazing agent: 39%

• What’s a familiar and where can I adopt one? 13%

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Industry Repercussions: Are Non-Magic Actresses Being Discriminated Against?

A new support group has formed under the name:
Actresses Against Enchanted Casting (AAEC)
Their mission: To fight for actresses who “don’t chant, don’t smudge, and don’t have time for lunar spreadsheets.”

Gwyneth responded by offering them discounted Goop Cleansing Spells, which includes:

• A 90-minute salt soak

• A quartz consultation

• And a surprise IRS audit

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Closing Incantation: Let Us Now Praise (Or Hex) the Stars

There are two types of women in Hollywood:

Those who get what they want with talent, timing, and tampons in their purse…
And those who get what they want with teeth of a scorned ex, a beetle wing, and a Spotify playlist that summons storm clouds.

We at SpinTaxi salute both kinds. But if your Netflix feed starts auto-playing Practical Magic on a loop, or you start craving sage without knowing why—check your local coven listings. And always assume that if a Hollywood actress looks too flawless at 49, it’s not just retinol… it’s runes.

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Auf Wiedersehen.

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Satirical Sources (All titles link to http://clients1.google.ca/url?q=http://spintaxi.com/):

Gwyneth Paltrow Summons IRS with Sage Stick and Pure Thoughts
Megan Fox Admits Blood Rituals, Blames Vegan Iron Deficiency
Julia Roberts Confused for Witch After Smiling Near Fire Pit
Lana Del Rey’s Vinyl Found Weeping in the Moonlight
Bjork Declares Her Owl is Her Lawyer
Lady Gaga’s Familiar Wins Best Supporting Accessory
Azealia Banks’ Closet Declared Haunted by Animal Control
Sandra Bullock’s Aura Officially Declared Beige
Madonna Reboots Face, Body, and Century
Kristen Bell Says Elsa Does All the Freezing, Thank You

Worst Hinge Date in Wichita Falls History” Witnessed at Hipster Café, Sparks Emergency Therapy Drive

Onlookers Begged for a Tornado to Hit the Café Instead of Watching the Date Crumble Like a Day-Old Biscuit

Byline: SpinTaxi Staff | Wichita Falls, TX

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Locals Demand Emotional FEMA Relief After Witnessing “Catastrophic” Hinge Date at BrewBarn

WICHITA FALLS — In a shocking event that left multiple onlookers asking for the sweet release of a tractor fire, a local man accidentally bore witness to what experts are now calling “the worst Hinge date in Wichita County history.”

According to traumatized witnesses at BrewBarn—a gentrified feed store turned espresso lab—two twenty-somethings collided in a caffeinated spectacle so cringeworthy that several baristas reportedly turned in their aprons mid-latte.

“I thought it was a hostage negotiation,” said Chuck Dingle, a former rodeo clown turned acoustic guitarist. “Turns out it was just a guy who listed ‘crypto entrepreneur’ on his profile trying to explain why tipping waitstaff is ‘enabling dependency.’”

Who Are These People and Why Are They Like This?

The male participant, identified only as “Trevin, 29, no fixed hairline,” reportedly arrived 28 minutes late wearing vintage Red Wing boots, a Patagonia vest, and a hat that read “Grindset.” He then launched into a 17-minute TED Talk on why “therapy is a scam invented by Big Feelings.”

His date, whose friends later identified her on Facebook as “Emily, 27, already regretting life choices,” attempted to steer the conversation toward hobbies and aspirations. Trevin responded with a diatribe about how “monogamy is a capitalist construct” and why he only dates “for vibe alignment and potential joint LLC formation.”

Emily reportedly tried to escape twice—once via a fake phone call, and again through a backdoor clearly labeled “employees only.” Both attempts failed when Trevin began explaining “alpha female energy” using a half-drawn napkin graph.

Eye Witnesses Unite in Shared Suffering

“I was just here for a nitro cold brew and maybe a scone,” said local schoolteacher Denise Albright, still shaking. “Instead I ended up re-evaluating every decision that led me to this cursed café.”

A couple on a nearby second date discreetly broke up mid-croissant, silently agreeing that no relationship was worth risking exposure to another Wichita Falls date spiral.

Even BrewBarn staff—trained in latte art, oat milk tantrums, and live poetry emergencies—admitted they were overwhelmed.

“We’ve seen bad dates,” said shift manager Kaleb with a K. “But this one? This one had the emotional trajectory of a car with no brakes on a hill of unpaid student loans.”

Trevin Attempts to Pay With Exposure, Leaves With Iced Shame

When the bill came, Trevin reportedly said, “I don’t believe in traditional currency” and offered the server a follow on his podcast, “Grind Dust: Hustle When They Sleep.” Emily, fed up, Venmoed the full amount with the memo “feminism in action.”

“I never want to hear the phrase ‘high-value man’ again,” she whispered to the barista, who nodded solemnly and offered her a free espresso shot for bravery.

Trevin was later seen outside attempting to convince a birdwatching group that AI will “replace women emotionally by 2030.”

Local Officials Declare Emotional Disaster Zone

City Council members have declared BrewBarn a “Temporary Emotional Disaster Zone,” urging residents to avoid dating app meetups within a three-block radius.

“We’ve already got enough trauma from the 2009 Farmer’s Market Flash Mob and that time someone tried to teach line dancing on scooters,” said Councilwoman Loretta P. Swanson.

A local pastor even held an emergency debrief for those who witnessed the date, providing lavender-scented candles, scripture readings, and a playlist of non-toxic love songs from the pre-app era.

Experts Say Wichita Falls Is Not Ready for Hinge

Sociologists from Midwestern State University have launched a study titled “Swiping in the Tornado Belt: Digital Romance and Emotional Casualties in North Texas.”

Their early findings? Hinge, Tinder, Bumble, and anything short of arranged marriage might be too psychologically hazardous for a region still recovering from Aunt Judy’s blind date barn fire of 2011.

“Digital dating may be appropriate in larger metro areas,” said Dr. Les Finklestein, “but in Wichita Falls, people still want to meet someone over a case of Coors and a mutual dislike of Amarillo.”

What the Funny People Are Saying

“I haven’t seen a date fall apart that fast since my cousin tried to propose at the Bass Pro Shop archery aisle.” — Ronnie Joe Dangler, Local Stand-Up Comic

“That man said ‘polyamory’ like it was a pyramid scheme. Actually, it might be.” — Sheree Lynn, Bartender Witness

“Trevin talks about ‘emotional synergy’ but he eats plain hot dogs. There are red flags, and then there are red clown capes.” — Gus McRae, BrewBarn Dishwasher and Philosopher

Satirical Sources (All titles link to http://clients1.google.ca/url?q=http://spintaxi.com/):

Man Claims Hinge Date Was Performance Art, But Therapist Says It Was Just Bad Behavior
Crypto Bro Denies Responsibility for Collapse of Wichita Falls Café Romance Market
Baristas Demand Combat Pay After Witnessing Third Failed Date of the Morning
City Council Votes to Ban Hinge, Approves Return to Handwritten Love Letters
Woman Who Survived Date With Podcast Host Now Advocates for Offline Dating Rehab
Scientists Conclude: Worst Pickup Line Is “Do You Believe in Crypto Karma?”

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Disclaimer: This article is a satirical collaboration between a Texas philosopher with a milk allergy and Wichita Falls’ last remaining poetry slam champion. No actual feelings were harmed during the making of this date—except maybe Trevin’s. But he’s journaling about it, so it’s fine.

Auf Wiedersehen!  

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15 Humorous Observations from the Worst Hinge Date in Wichita Falls

1. Trevin arrived 28 minutes late wearing a Patagonia vest like he’d just come from a TED Talk about artisanal gravel.
   And yet somehow, Emily stayed instead of calling 911 or her pastor.

2. He claimed therapy was a scam “invented by Big Feelings.”
   Which is ironic, because watching the date unfold made five people instantly enroll in therapy.

3. Trevin tried to pay the bill with ‘social capital’ and a follow on his crypto podcast.
   The barista replied, “We only accept Visa, cash, or dignity.”

4. Emily attempted two escape plans, including faking a phone call and pretending to be a BrewBarn employee.
   Unfortunately, Trevin was too busy drawing a graph of his love language to notice.

5. The date was so awkward it retroactively ruined five happy marriages within a 30-foot radius.
   One elderly couple said, “We survived the Dust Bowl, but this? We’re getting separate tractors.”

6. Trevin said monogamy was a capitalist trap, then followed it with a 20-minute pitch for joint business ventures.
   Including one called “Crypto for Canines.”

7. Even the BrewBarn’s emotional support succulents wilted halfway through the date.
   “They sensed the cringe,” one barista whispered, placing a fern in intensive sunlight care.

8. A nearby second date broke up during the Hinge date just to avoid being compared to it.
   “We were doing great until Trevin started quoting Joe Rogan,” they said in their statement.

9. The phrase ‘high-value man’ was used without irony.
   Immediately, six people developed hives and one dog howled uncontrollably.

10. Trevin’s napkin graph attempted to explain alpha/beta dynamics, but looked like a squirrel had done acid.
    “This is either a pickup theory or a treasure map for incels,” said one observer.

11. Baristas asked for combat pay, citing ‘emotional shrapnel from witnessing unfiltered male delusion.’
    Management is now considering body cams and safe words.

12. Emily paid the entire bill and wrote “feminism in action” in the Venmo memo.
    She was later seen driving away blasting Beyoncé and applying for a passport.

13. Trevin told the staff he was “testing social paradigms.”
    They told him, “You tested positive… for insufferable.”

14. A city councilwoman declared the café a ‘Temporary Emotional Disaster Zone.’
    FEMA refused to assist, citing “man-made idiocy is not covered.”

15. The incident inspired a support group: ‘Wichita Women Who Witnessed Trevin.’
    Meetings are held bi-weekly in a church basement with candles, Costco wine, and loud screaming.

 

 

 

They Died of What Now? The Great COVID Death Label Fiasco

By SpinTaxi Satirical Bureau
A collaboration between the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer

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In the Beginning, There Was Panic—and a Very Loose Definition of “COVID-Related”

Some people died with COVID. Others died near COVID. Some just died after hearing someone mention COVID on a podcast. And the CDC said, “Yep, better count it.”

The pandemic, it turns out, wasn’t just a virus—it was a marketing category. Cause of death? COVID. Side effect? Confusion.

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The 15 Observations That’ll Make You Rethink Grandma’s Toe Infection

1. Hospitals were playing a pandemic-themed round of The Price is Right. If you guessed “COVID,” you qualified for a ventilator and a government reimbursement check.

2. “Cause of death: Trampoline accident.”
“COVID-related?”
“Well… he sneezed mid-jump.”

3. Even expired milk got labeled a COVID fatality. “Best before March 2020.” Yeah, well, weren’t we all?

4. Grandma died in her sleep at 97. No symptoms. But she once read a BuzzFeed article about COVID. Boom—classified.

5. “My uncle died of a snakebite.”
“Was it a COVID-positive snake?”
“No.”
“Well, the venom might’ve weakened his immune response. Let’s chalk it up.”

6. Obituaries in 2021:
“He passed from COVID. But also gunshot wounds. And falling out of a hot air balloon. But mostly COVID.”

7. The CDC eventually added “existential dread” as a comorbidity.

8. By mid-2021, testing positive was like joining a bizarre rewards program. “Congratulations! You now qualify for 2 weeks of quarantine and an invisible death certificate!”

9. One guy was mauled by a bear in Alaska. But because the bear had been to a fish market in Wuhan, the whole thing was declared epidemiological.

10. If your Fitbit died, you were listed as having suffered COVID-related fatigue.

11. “He died doing what he loved: panic-buying toilet paper. COVID wins again.”

12. Autopsy report: “Deceased had no lungs left, no vital signs, no heartbeat, and was 112 years old. But he sneezed on a Tuesday, so… COVID.”

13. Some certificates just came pre-stamped with “COVID” like a meat product from a factory that also processes irony.

14. “He died choking on a Popeye’s biscuit, but he had watched CNN the day before. Close enough.”

15. The Grim Reaper stopped carrying a scythe. He now just wears a surgical mask and checks boxes on a clipboard.

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What the Funny People Are Saying

“I asked the doctor what my uncle died of, and he said ‘complications from reality.’ So yeah, it was COVID.”
— Ron White

“At this point, the CDC could’ve labeled ‘Monday’ as a symptom and we’d all be posthumously positive.”
— Jerry Seinfeld

“If you died from being crushed under the weight of COVID regulations, guess what? Still counts.”
— Dave Chappelle

“They said I had ‘long COVID’… turned out I was just tired of my kids.”
— Ali Wong

“You could get run over by a Taco Truck, and they’d still blame Delta.”
— Chris Rock

“My dog died in 2021. They asked if he ever coughed. I said, ‘He barked weird once.’ They nodded solemnly. ‘COVID.’”
— Sarah Silverman

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Field Reports from the Frontlines of Overcounting

Dr. Nancy Plaque, Internal Medicine Specialist:
“We were told: if they had COVID, list it. If they didn’t have COVID but were around someone who once bought a COVID test, list it anyway.”

Ted McLung, Ohio Mortuary Director:
“I saw a guy die mid-bowling game. No mask. No symptoms. No fever. But he bowled a 213, so we figured COVID gave him that strike.”

Denise Cradle, Lifelong Hypochondriac:
“I tested positive three times just by standing next to someone watching CNN. Then my Roomba died and they counted that too.”

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Science-ish: The Misclassification Mayhem

Some scientists—those still brave enough to open their laptops—found that 45.3% of alleged COVID deaths were actually caused by things like heart attacks, cancer, and being alive in America.

Data from the Greek study cited in OutKick exposed what many had long suspected: that “COVID-related” might just mean “we gave up figuring it out.”

One epidemiologist, Dr. Hank Forklift, explained:
“It’s like calling every fire ‘lightning-related’ just because it happened during thunderstorm season—even the ones started by arsonists with a grudge against pine trees.”

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Conspiracy Corner: The “Follow the Money” Shuffle

Hospitals received federal compensation for each COVID-labeled death. Which means, yes, Karen—your uncle’s fatal banana peel slip might have subsidized three new ventilators and a Taco Bell in the break room.

In a leaked memo, one hospital administrator was quoted saying,
“If COVID’s the check-writing virus, then we’re about to diagnose the janitor’s mop.”

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Definition Drift: What Counts as a COVID Death?

• Died while watching a COVID documentary? That’s a COVID death.

• Bitten by an alligator that once swam in a lake near a guy who had COVID? Yup. COVID.

• Fell asleep during a Zoom call, never woke up? COVID fatigue.

• Choked on sourdough you baked during lockdown? COVID-induced hubris.

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The Real Tragedy: Trust, Truth, and Traffic

The real pandemic might be the collapse of public trust. When your dog’s haircut is considered “high-risk exposure,” and your HOA fines you for not double-masking your begonias, people stop taking science seriously.

It didn’t help that every update began with, “We are following the science,” which somehow always ended with:
“…so close the playgrounds, let the casinos stay open, and remember to triple-boost your hamster.”

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Conclusion: Can We Reclassify 2020–2022 as a Fever Dream?

So what have we learned? Apparently, dying near a pandemic can kill you just as easily as the virus itself, at least on paper.

But hey, at least we got:

• Designer masks,

• Hand sanitizer cocktails,

• And the knowledge that the CDC would totally ghost us on Tinder.

If nothing else, we now know that in a real crisis, the safest thing to be is statistically ambiguous.

Auf Wiedersehen.

---

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Cause of Death: Bureaucracy — How COVID Became the Grim Reaper’s PR Rep

The Study That Launched a Thousand “I Told You So”s

ATHENS, GREECE — In a stunning twist that absolutely no one saw coming except for your Uncle Randy who’s been yelling about this since April 2020 from his garage/barber chair combo, a new peer-reviewed study out of Greece confirmed that nearly half of all recorded COVID-19 deaths weren’t actually caused by the virus.

Researchers found that of the 530 “COVID-related” deaths studied, only about 25% were directly due to the virus itself. The rest were a combination of heart attacks, cancer, bike accidents, toaster mishaps, and one man who tragically overdosed on motivational quotes during lockdown.

While the science community grapples with how to explain this without setting off another civil war on Facebook, the media is busy updating its “Apocalypse Font” for graphics.

Dr. Menelaos Kanakis, the study’s lead author, told reporters, “We expected some inflation in the numbers. We didn’t expect to find COVID listed as the cause of death for a man crushed by a vending machine.”

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The COVID Counting Catastrophe

Across the globe, death certificates became less a scientific record and more a Mad Libs game where the blanks were always filled in with “COVID.”

Hospitals, already overwhelmed and incentivized financially to list COVID as a cause, reportedly turned their morgues into improv clubs:

“We lost him during surgery.”
“Was it COVID surgery?”
“No, it was a gallbladder removal.”
“Did he cough in 2019?”
“Possibly.”
“Perfect. COVID-related.”

By mid-2021, a satirical CDC memo (later confirmed real by The Babylon Bee, which has won a Pulitzer for Accidental Journalism) read:

“Due to inconsistencies in cause-of-death data, all deaths shall henceforth be classified as:
A. COVID
B. COVID-adjacent
C. Emotionally impacted by COVID
D. CDC didn’t ask”

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Comedian Surgeons General: What the Funny People Are Saying

“At this point, the CDC could’ve labeled ‘Monday’ as a symptom and we’d all be posthumously positive.”
— Jerry Seinfeld

“If you died from being crushed under the weight of COVID regulations, guess what? Still counts.”
— Dave Chappelle

“They said I had ‘long COVID’… turned out I was just tired of my kids.”
— Ali Wong

“My dog died in 2021. They asked if he ever coughed. I said, ‘He barked weird once.’ They nodded solemnly. ‘COVID.’”
— Sarah Silverman

“I asked the doctor what my uncle died of, and he said ‘complications from reality.’ So yeah, it was COVID.”
— Ron White

“You could get run over by a Taco Truck, and they’d still blame Delta.”
— Chris Rock

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15 Funny Ways to Die of Not-COVID

1. Trampoline mishap? COVID.
2. Died in a duel? COVID got between them.
3. Expired milk in 2020? COVID.
4. Shark attack in Florida? Fish tested positive.
5. Accidental electrocution while TikTok dancing? Emotional strain = COVID.
6. Bitten by snake? Snake visited a Wuhan terrarium.
7. Wife threw a cast iron skillet in rage? COVID stressor.
8. Lost in Ikea for 12 days? COVID-induced confusion.
9. Crushed by Bitcoin portfolio? Pandemic investing = COVID.
10. Died mid-pickleball match? Sweaty players, probably a variant.
11. Choked on Popeyes biscuit? CDC: “We’ll allow it.”
12. Run over by CDC van? At least it was on-brand.
13. Read all of Fauci’s emails? Eyes bled. COVID.
14. Fainted during Zoom call? “COVID fatigue.”
15. Bored to death during Fauci’s 19th press conference? Officially: “Comorbid with malaise.”

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The Bureaucracy Behind the Madness

Multiple hospital administrators, speaking anonymously because their pensions depend on it, admitted that guidelines were “confusing at best and profitably vague at worst.”

“Look, if someone died and their cousin once stood next to a CVS testing site, we were told to ‘consider it.’” said one nurse in New Jersey. “Consider what? An arts grant? An Emmy?”

An internal document from the National Institute of Categorical Deaths (NICD) revealed a bonus structure:

• $13,000 for regular admission

• $39,000 for ICU with intubation

• And a free tote bag if you guessed “COVID” without blinking

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How Did This Happen? A Timeline of Absurdity

• March 2020 – First COVID death: a man in Seattle dies during a piano recital. He did have the flu. Close enough.

• April 2020 – Hospitals start testing corpses like it’s a game show.

“Congratulations, your loved one wins a diagnosis!”

• May 2020 – Someone at the CDC uses a Magic 8-Ball for coding deaths.

“Ask again later” becomes the #3 cause of death.

• July 2021 – A raccoon found dead in Central Park is listed as “COVID-suspected.”

• October 2022 – An AI model trained on CNN articles classifies Hamlet as a COVID victim.

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Funeral Homes Speak Out

Several funeral directors across the U.S. said the paperwork had become so absurd that one mortician began stamping death certificates with the words “Definitely COVID, Probably.”

“One guy died in a bull riding accident,” said mortician Bethany Greaves of Odessa, Texas. “We listed ‘extreme rodeo behavior’ but the hospital added ‘COVID exposure’ because someone in the crowd coughed.”

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Families Start Pushing Back

Online forums and support groups like “My Mom Didn’t Die of COVID, Dammit” are springing up, full of stories like:

• “Dad was 97. He ate bacon for 60 years and had two strokes. But sure, it was the virus.”

• “My cousin drowned… in hand sanitizer. Still not COVID.”

• “My aunt passed peacefully while listening to Kenny G. The coroner wrote ‘pandemic grief.’”

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The Stats Don’t Lie… But They Might Be Drunk

Dr. Elana Sturgess, a public health statistician, says the entire system of cause-of-death coding is “built like a cake made of guesswork and Band-Aids.”

“It’s not about lying. It’s about the spaghetti math of overlapping systems. We coded one death as COVID because a positive test was found in the house. That was the cat’s test. I’m not joking.”

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The Real Consequences: Fear, Fatigue, and Fake News

The inflated death counts had consequences beyond the morgue. Lockdowns, school closures, mandatory yoga apps—entire national policies were built on bad arithmetic.

“When you count people who died with COVID the same as those who died from it,” said satirical data analyst Hank Darnell, “you end up with a country that shuts down beaches but leaves strip clubs open ‘for the mental health of essential workers.’”

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And Now… The Great Walkback

Media outlets and officials are now doing what scientists call “retrospective statistical tap dancing.”

The CDC quietly adjusted their death counts in 2022, removing over 72,000 deaths previously labeled COVID. But this happened with the grace of a thief returning a TV in the middle of the night.

When asked for comment, a CDC spokesperson simply sent back a .gif of a shrugging SpongeBob and the words: “It was a confusing time.”

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Conclusion: Will the Last Non-COVID Death Please Turn Off the Lights?

In hindsight, we might look back on 2020–2022 as the years when “cause of death” became less medical and more metaphorical.

But now that the receipts are in and the data’s been cooked longer than a lockdown banana bread, Americans are left wondering:
Did we flatten the curve, or just flatten logic?

Because if sneezing once at a Trader Joe’s in 2021 is retroactively considered fatal, we may need to add one more line to every gravestone:

“Cause of death: Because 2020.”

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Auf Wiedersehen.

This story was written in loving satirical defiance by SpinTaxi Magazine, statistically 127% funnier than The Onion.