Sep 25, 2026 · 9 min listen · Last updated September 25, 2026
From storyflo. This is your daily audio brief. It's Wit. September 25th. Seven things made me laugh out loud at my desk; we'll start with the worst one. Let's get into it. First, from The Onion. Last Peach Of Summer Quietly Molds Over On Counter.
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Daily Comedy Brief · September 25th
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Last Peach Of Summer Quietly Molds Over On Counter
The last peach of summer has officially given up the ghost, sitting on the counter, a fuzzy monument to procrastination. You know it’s bad when even the fruit has decided it’s time to check out. Meanwhile, an Uber driver just zoomed past a woman who confidently told him, “Right here’s great,” three blocks too late. It’s a classic case of miscommunication—like trying to order a coffee in a foreign language and ending up with a fruit salad.
In California, they’re facing a record 71 billion calorie deficit. It’s like the state collectively decided to skip dessert, which is a bold move for a place known for its avocado toast. And speaking of bold moves, a janitor is apparently not getting enough appreciation for the subtle nods that go unnoticed. Maybe he’s just trying to keep the workplace vibe alive, one nod at a time.
On a lighter note, a birthday party at a roller rink actually lived up to the hype. Who knew that neon lights and questionable skating skills could bring so much joy? And then there’s the new study revealing that 81 percent of Starbucks patrons are silently judging each other. It’s like a coffee shop version of high school, where everyone pretends to be engrossed in their laptops while eyeing the competition.
In the realm of personal quirks, a laptop was taken into the bathroom—because, of course, the need to scroll through emails is more pressing than basic hygiene. And let’s not forget the fourth sneeze that really pushed it; at what point does a sneeze become a performance? It’s all part of the absurdity of daily life, where even the mundane has its moments.
Paramount has finally jumped over the last major hurdle in its bid to acquire Warner Bros., managing to settle an antitrust lawsuit from a dozen states. It’s a deal that’s shaping up to create quite the media giant, though the details are a bit eyebrow-raising. For starters, antitrust laws seem to have been “massaged” — whatever that entails.
In a twist that feels straight out of a sitcom, 17 Saudi princes will now have a say in network notes, which raises questions about who’s really calling the shots. And then there’s the editorial oversight board, which consists of six cardboard cutouts — a real innovation in decision-making, I guess.
On the more absurd side, there's a reported 90% chance that your DoorDash driver might have once penned an episode of “The Pitt.” Meanwhile, Jake Tapper will be required to mention Trump a staggering 54 times per show. It’s like a drinking game, but for political commentary.
And just when you thought it couldn’t get weirder, brace yourself for a psychosexual Bugs Bunny thriller coming to Paramount+. Because, of course, that’s what we need. They’ve also connected the two studios with a 14-mile tube, which sounds like a plot device from a cartoon itself.
In a final note, there are 62 DVDs that you probably shouldn’t have donated to Goodwill, and shockingly, there are zero new ideas on the horizon. So, here we are, watching a merger that feels like a blend of corporate strategy and bizarre comedy.
The article is a tongue‑in‑cheek rundown of ten NFL “stars” who, according to the Onion, will shape the 2026 season. It starts with Aidan Hutchinson, the Lions’ defensive end who just signed a hefty extension and now has enough money to buy eye black for both sides of his face—because apparently that’s a thing. Next up is A.J. Brown of the Patriots, who will keep using his size, speed, and a brass dinner bell that rings whenever he’s open, in a bid to push the Patriots toward a second straight Super Bowl. The article then pivots to Cam Skattebo, the Giants’ running back who will try to finish his career before “violent collisions render him unable to speak in full sentences or recognize loved ones.” It’s a grim, hyperbolic take on the inevitable decline of a player’s post‑career life.
The list continues with Ja’Marr Chase of the Bengals, whose arms reportedly grew three feet over the offseason, leaving readers to wonder whether that extra reach will help or hinder him. Deshaun Watson of the Browns is next, a $230 million quarterback who hopes to turn the city’s anger into the “familiar disappointment and misery” they’ve known for generations. The article then throws in Jahmyr Gibbs, a Lions back compared to Barry Sanders, but on a team that “will ultimately never win anything.” Gordon the Pig, the Texans’ safety, is highlighted for his breakout 2025 season and his spectacular lapse in the divisional round after being distracted by a patch of
Shy, Bookish Umpire Actually Really Beautiful When He Takes Mask Off
The piece opens with a melodramatic claim about a shy, bookish umpire whose face supposedly becomes “really beautiful” once he removes his mask. It reads like a teaser for a feel‑good reveal, but the article never delivers a story about him at all. Instead, it launches into a rapid‑fire list of unrelated, almost nonsensical headlines.
Each line is a miniature parody of click‑bait: a driver scolding an Uber rider for speeding past a house three blocks back, California posting a “record 71 billion calorie deficit,” and a tumor being described as “foam‑rolled.” The jokes sit side by side without explanation, letting the absurdity of the format do the work. There’s a “Grand Gesture Chipotle,” a “trophy wife slowly becoming regular wife,” and a “janitor could be more appreciative of nod,” all presented as if they were serious news items.
The effect is a satire of the endless stream of attention‑grabbing headlines that flood our feeds. By stacking them together, the article highlights how we’ve become accustomed to skimming bizarre soundbites without any context, and how the promise of a story—like the umpire’s reveal—can be eclipsed by the sheer volume of nonsense. It’s a reminder that sometimes the joke is the format itself, not any individual punchline.
Officials believe this new requirement reflects the realities of modern driving. Candidates will need to merge onto the highway and expertly navigate through traffic while being pursued by police. They’ll have to bring their own stolen vehicle and handgun, demonstrating their aim and ability to handle high-pressure situations.
The test includes hitting speeds of 120 mph and performing daring maneuvers, like drifting under 18-wheelers. If things go south and the car gets immobilized, candidates can attempt to escape on foot. Interestingly, news helicopters will no longer be allowed to follow these chases, as they tend to make test-takers anxious. It’s a wild twist on the traditional road test, to say the least.
Baseball Analysts Call For New Stat Called B.L.E.P.H.
Baseball analysts have reached a fever pitch of demand for a new statistic they’re calling B.L.E.P.H. They’re not too concerned about what it measures or how it’s calculated; they just want something with a convoluted name that requires a mountain of math. FanGraphs contributor Derek Gardner expressed the collective urgency, saying they’re starving for something more complex than the existing stats like VORP and BABIP.
The analysts are brainstorming potential definitions, with suggestions ranging from measuring a player’s chase rate against their religion to predicting injury likelihood in lineups. They’re also open to variations like B.L.E.P.H.− or xB.L.E.P.H., as long as these metrics can be easily sorted on their favorite stats websites. It’s a wild ride in the world of baseball analytics, where the thirst for data is unquenchable.
Consolidated Harvest Friends is facing backlash over their new product, Glünch: The Edible Glue, which may be causing gastrointestinal issues among some consumers. The company’s response is a mix of deflection and a hint of accountability, suggesting that any misleading claims stem from a lack of regulation rather than their own practices. They’re considering a new corporate motto that emphasizes profits over people, which is a curious choice when discussing a product that’s apparently more akin to quick-drying cement than a consumable glue.
In a rather theatrical twist, they’re launching a campaign of “performative grief-stricken incredulity” over the fact that Glünch isn’t actually edible, despite its name. They assure shareholders that this isn’t a crisis, as they have a diverse lineup of products, including a hybrid tuna-beef concoction and a wood pulp cheesesteak. The company seems to be banking on the idea that consumers will continue to embrace their bizarre offerings, regardless of their questionable safety.
In short, Consolidated Harvest Friends is navigating a PR minefield while trying to maintain shareholder confidence, all while the public grapples with the absurdity of a product that’s not quite what it claims to be.