by It’s been one of those days when nothing makes sense before coffee, and everything makes even less sense after coffee.
This afternoon brought a surprising turn of events when our editor assigned me to cover a story about a Michigan Pumpkin Day terror plot. I had to read the brief three times because I thought it was a joke. Nope. Real story. Well, real satire of a real story. The lines are so blurred now.
I spent most of my morning trying to understand how pumpkins became a national security issue. Is it the gourd itself? The festival? The innocent joy of autumn traditions? At what point did we collectively decide that seasonal vegetables were threatening? These are the questions keeping me up at night now.
Later in the day, I realized that every story we publish is somehow connected to every other story. The pumpkin thing links to broader themes of security theater and manufactured fear. It connects to the ICE expansion proposals we covered last week. Everything is part of this massive web of absurdity, and my job is to find the humor in the horror.
Charline gave me some great feedback today about not being afraid to push boundaries. She said, “Stephanie, if you’re not making at least some people uncomfortable, you’re not doing satire right.” Then she immediately made me revise a paragraph that was apparently too comfortable. Working with her is like being in a very specific, very intense masterclass on political comedy.
The highlight of my day was actually a story we’re developing about fixing China relations. It’s nice to write about international diplomacy for a change, even if we’re still satirizing the absolute chaos of it all. At least it’s chaos on a global scale, which feels more prestigious somehow?
As I reflect on what happened today, I’m thinking about how satire serves as a release valve for collective anxiety. We’re all processing the same surreal reality, and humor helps us cope. That’s what I tell myself when I’m researching pumpkin-related security threats at 10 PM on a Monday.
Tomorrow: more political absurdity, probably. Maybe something about trains? Who knows anymore.
Diary Entry # 2025-09-09-764
MY HOME PAGE: Bohiney Magazine (Stephanie Curry)
