NEW WORLD ERROR! Illuminati Jokesters Annoyed No One Laughs at their Prank of Putting Morons in Power

“What in the name of Baphomet do we have to do?” whined Goat Mask, pounding his fist on the table.

Several other figures sat nearby in the dimly lit boardroom. They wore all black, faces obscured by animal masks.

These are the ‘Merry Millionaires.’ They’re a sub-committee of the Illuminati, the shadowy society that has run civilization since it began.

The Merry Millionaires are tasked with keeping the secret group’s morale high through jokes and pranks.

But there was no joy at their latest meeting.

“You know when you play a prank, and the target doesn’t notice?” Rat Mask explained. “That’s annoying. But then you get progressively more ridiculous and eventually your target gets it. When they do, the game is up, and you share a laugh.”

“But no matter what buffoon we install as a head of state, the unwashed masses accept it! We’ve been trying this prank for years and not once has someone said, ‘Quit pulling our legs. This isn’t a real leader.’ Not once!”

Goat Mask concurred. “Each buffoon we put in power is crazier and stupider than the last. Characters that a cartoon wouldn’t accept! What’s it going to take until people get the joke? Do we really have to send out a broom wearing a sombrero and say, ‘Presenting the new leader of the free world,’ before the human herd gets it?”

“Seems that’s our only option left,” Rhino Mask said. “Or a guy in a clown suit. Maybe an inflatable sex doll. We keep waiting for someone to say, all right. Enough is enough. The masses are clueless, sure, but I’d expect them to notice we’re pranking them. They can’t be this dumb and docile. Can they?”

GOD TOLD HIM TO S.T.F.U.! Evangelical Speaking “In Tongues” Was Actually Choking to Death

Reverend Josiah Hornblatty, Pastor for The Church of His Holy Radiance, has been called home to heaven.

The wealthy minister collapsed and died in during his weekly, live televised ceremony.

“It was during the exciting part,” explained a tearful Brandi Fielders, a regular at His Holy Radiance for over ten years.

“He fell to the floor right in front of me. The six-piece rock band was booming. The lasers and smoke machines were going full blast. And the good Reverend ran around carrying live snakes.”

Investigators determined the Reverend died from choking on a throat lozenge. Hornblatty popped the candies to soothe his throat during his marathon preaching sessions.

“He was rolling around on the floor,” Fielders continued. “Spouting gibberish. It’s called ‘speaking in tongues.’ When you commune with the holy spirits, it’s too much for our tiny, sinful minds to handle, so it comes out in a way we can’t understand.”

Despite the Reverend’s distress, Ms. Fielders took no action.

“When he started turning dark purple, I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought about calling for help. But every Sunday he’s begging God to call him home. He wanted to go to heaven so bad, I didn’t dare interfere. He reached out to me, and I thought he was begging for money like usual. I had my folded one-dollar bill ready to go.”

She never got to make that final donation. The pastor had died. Still, Fielders was positive.

“I’m sad I won’t see him every Sunday, but I’m happy he’s with the angels at last. It’s what he wanted. I just know he’s flying across the sky with Jesus in that gold-plated private jet that we paid for. First class, of course.”

QUARANTINE CHAOS! School Suppliers Can’t Keep Up With Demand from Parents Unable to Steal Pens and Pads from Work

Melanie Lakis emerged from the big box office supply store shaking her head. Her curses were muffled behind her N95 mask.

“Virtual school starts next week. This is the fifth store I’ve been to. Like all the others, they’re sold out of pens and notebooks.”

She stuffed her mask inside the storage console of her minivan and slammed the lid closed.

“Buying online doesn’t work, either. They take your order and your payment. Then you get an email. ‘Sorry, forgot to mention, due to the pandemic, we’re out of stock.’ Now I’m out and about, and still no luck.”

Lakis drove while thumbing her cell phone, searching for any office supply store.

“Before our government ignored a world-wide plague, this was so simple. Get to work early, bring a duffel bag like I just came from the gym. Raid the supply cabinet. Done. Easy. A yearly tradition. Now? What a pain in the ass.”

She fidgeted in the driver’s seat, not noticing her minivan slowly rolling through a red light.

“Everyone in my Facebook Mommy Chat group is in the same boat. One said she got her son to go on the dark web for magic markers. That’s ridiculous. Why does her kid know how to do that? What else is he doing on there? Us cool moms were wondering about that in our secret side mommy chat group.”

She gave the finger to a sign that read, ‘We Support Our Essential Workers!’

“I don’t mean that,” she quickly added. “I support them. I’m just not myself lately. Taking stuff from work is part of the natural order of things, right? The circle of life. It’s how you know life is normal. When you can’t do it, you know the world has gone crazy.”

Person Not Paying Attention is Outraged Anyway

“You know what I really hate?” Ralph Smith offers, even if you don’t ask. “Television remotes. In my day, we got exercise. You wanna change the channel? You gotta get off your ass and turn the dial. Suddenly, everyone’s got a clicker thingy. And people wonder why the world is going to hell.”

The first television remote was invented around 1950. Mr. Smith was born in 1956.

“Oh. Really?” he said. “They been around that long? Well, I don’t like ‘em.”

Does Smith honestly believe television remotes spell the doom of civilization?

“It’s not just that. It’s also those noisy places kids call arcades. You know, they stand before a wooden cabinet, stare at a screen? That’s not a game. That’s watching TV.”

Mr. Smith seemed surprised when informed that stand up arcade games gave way decades ago to PC, console and mobile gaming.

“Oh? They’re gone? Guess that’s why I haven’t seen them lately. Well good. Because I hate ’em.”

Smith was quiet for a while before going on.

“It’s all this new stuff. Today I saw the most annoying thing.”

More annoying than TV remotes and arcade games?

“Yeah. People are putting stickers on the backs of their cars, now. They say all kinds of things. Vote for this, don’t vote for that. I like this, I don’t like that. If I wanted an opinion piece, I’d read the newspaper. I never noticed them before. Suddenly, they’re everywhere.”

The first bumper stickers appeared in the 1940s.

“That’s a good name for those new things: bumper stickers. I was going to call them ‘car signs’ or something. I saw one that said, ‘If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.’ I wanted to flag ‘im down and tell ‘im. Don’t put that on me, pal. I’m mad because you got some preachy crap on your bumper and I have to see it.”