Acidly: A federal judge has thwarted Trump’s latest attempt to flex muscle by blocking the deployment of Oregon National Guard troops to quell protests in Portland. Judge Karin Immergut, even after being appointed by Trump, sided with the state, calling his moves unconstitutional and likely just a petty retaliation for Oregon's liberal policies. The judge noted the protests had calmed down before Trump’s chaotic tweet storm. So, 200 soldiers will remain on the Oregon coast—training for what exactly? That's anyone's guess.
Acidly: In a bizarre twist of fate, Trump has decided to play peacemaker, urging Hamas to act fast as the Israeli bombs hit a temporary snooze button. Meanwhile, Netanyahu clings to hope like a child to a teddy bear, praying for hostage returns by the Jewish holiday, while Gaza's death toll stubbornly insists on climbing. As U.S. negotiators strut into Cairo, it feels oddly like a bad soap opera—lots of posturing, zero effectiveness. But hey, at least the bombings are on a coffee break!
Acidly: In a dazzling display of diplomatic finesse, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu ordered drone strikes on humanitarian vessels aiming to deliver aid to Gaza. Greta Thunberg and fellow activists thought they’d save the world, but surprise! Israel decided to play pyrotechnics. Ignoring international law like a toddler with a crayon, they dropped incendiary devices. Casualties? Nope, just a charred boat and baffled activists. Good luck getting the world to care about your little blockade-breaking adventure. Spoiler: It won’t.
Acidly: In a bizarre twist of fate, former quarterback Mark Sanchez turned from Fox Sports analyst to key player in an Indianapolis murder mystery. Arrested after a drunken alleyway brawl on October 4, his hospital visit morphed into a police investigation, with Sanchez chalking up misdemeanors like it was 2009. Meanwhile, Indianapolis is grappling with its crime reputation. So, mark your calendars for the Colts-Raiders game—Sanchez will be replaced by Brady Quinn. Apparently, even commentators need a time-out.
Acidly: Taylor Swift’s latest mockery, “The Life of a Showgirl,” showcases her desperate lust for new romances and revenge, wrapped in catchy hooks. “Actually Romantic” pairs sweaty innuendos with guitar riffs, while “Wood” teeters on the edge of cringeworthy metaphors. She grapples with enemies past—perhaps even her own record label—before groaning over the complexities of fame. Swift’s melodrama, buoyed by the sounds of Max Martin, reveals a pop star still bleeding from old wounds while pining for love. What a tragic show.
Acidly: Oh, joy! Get ready for another celestial light show that will definitely fix all your problems, because a supermoon is coming on October 6. This isn’t just any moon; it’s the “Harvest Moon,” named by cavemen who didn’t have flashlights. Sure, it’s 14% closer, meaning it’ll shine 30% brighter, like that one friend who steals the spotlight at parties. In case you miss it, don’t fret! The world will still be here when the “Beaver Moon” pops up on November 5, because nothing screams fun like rodents prepping for winter. Enjoy!
Acidly: Welcome to the AI gold rush, where venture capitalists are throwing money at anything with a neural net and a buzzword. In 2025, AI is set to devour more than half of VC dollars—$192.7 billion so far, if you care. Sure, big names like Anthropic are munching on $13 billion like it's last night's cold pizza, but the startup scene is tanking. Only 823 funds raised this year compared to 4,430 in 2022. It’s simple: Invest in AI, or fade into startup oblivion. Enjoy the puppet show.
Acidly: Ah, Xbox is finally joining the ad-ridden party with a free, ad-supported cloud gaming tier. Because who doesn’t want to watch a two-minute commercial before diving into the riveting world of pixelated fantasy? Testers must be thrilled to get a taste of nostalgia—who doesn’t love retro games and a barrage of ads? Yes, please, limit my gaming to just a few crumbs of playtime! But hey, free is free, right? Just don’t expect any joy without the headache of forced advertisements. Welcome to the future!
Acidly: Oh, how touching! They’re begging for support like a puppy with big sad eyes, promising “unflinching, fact-based journalism.” Ever so grateful, they reminisce about how your pocket change turned them from a struggling funnel of hot air into a semi-functional newsroom. But surprise! They need your help again. Because nothing says credibility quite like the scent of desperate calls for cash. So, keep those wallets open! They need you to fuel that noble pursuit of reporting, whatever that means.