WASHINGTON, D.C. – A leaked internal memo has confirmed that the federal government is running a secret program to keep Americans in a precise emotional state: scared enough to not ask for a raise, but hopeful enough to buy a new truck.
Insiders call it “Project Squirrel Scramble” – a reference to that chaotic, zigzagging, desperate dash across open asphalt, darting left, freezing, doubling back, all while roaring traffic misses you by inches. You survive. You learn nothing. You do it again tomorrow.
“An overly secure citizen is a complacent citizen,” the memo reads. “A completely destitute citizen is a riotous one. The sweet spot is ‘perpetually pre-foreclosure.'”
In practical terms, this means your mortgage is always almost due, your car always almost repossessed, and your credit card always almost maxed – but never quite. Like a horror movie where the monster just stands in the doorway menacingly for four hours.
The program operates through three signature maneuvers:
The Tar-Twitch Tango: That’s when the President threatens to nuke Denmark via a Truth Social post at 2 AM, deletes it, posts it again with a crying emoji, and you find yourself arguing with your toaster about NATO while eating shredded cheese from the bag, heart rate 140, no memory of how you got there.
Road Brains: That’s the half-second you get when the government announces its eleventh inflation “shotgun blast” of the year, your rent goes up $400, and a Truth Social post says the economy is “better than ever, many people are saying” — zero good options, so you buy a lottery ticket and a candle that smells like “resilience.”
The Double-Back Dash: That’s watching Congress hold a hearing about the President launching nukes via Truth Social poll, then voting itself a raise, then watching the President sell bibles — you sprint forward to care, stop, sprint back to apathy, stop, and end the year on the same couch, having traveled nowhere, seventeen pounds lighter from pure pointless exertion.
“So far, results are excellent,” said a senior advisor who asked not to be named because his name is Elon and he’s embarrassed about it. “People are working 60-hour weeks and thanking us for it. One man in Ohio sent a fruit basket.”
Who Wins
The memo lists four groups benefiting from your low-grade Sudden Squirrel panic:
1. Lenders. You know how banks charge a $35 late fee? They also charge a $12 “almost late but not really” fee, a $7 “you checked your balance at 2 AM” fee, and a $4 “we can tell you’re crying” convenience charge.
2. Pharmaceutical companies. They’ve rebranded anxiety as a “performance opportunity.” Their new commercial shows a woman crying into a salad, then smiling, then crying again — all set to inspirational ukulele music. The voiceover says: “You’re not broken. You’re just not humanmaxxing.”
3. The Trump family, their cronies & other friendly neighborhood oligarchs. They’ve discovered that a spun-out population – bouncing from the Kennedy Center Concert Haul to demolished White House wings – doesn’t ask questions like “why does the President think he’s won the Iran war fifteen times?” or “why does that man’s skin resemble a melted traffic cone?”
4. One specific guy named Gary. Nobody knows who Gary is. He just gets a percentage.
The New ‘Anxiety Ladder’
The USDA has replaced the food pyramid with what officials call the “Anxiety Ladder” – essentially a Road Brains manual in poster form. The recommended daily diet: eight glasses of water and three “good, hard scares.”
“Seed oils are out,” said a USDA nutritionist who hasn’t swallowed anything that wasn’t filtered through a live worm since 2019. “Panic is in. A good spiral burns 400 calories. That’s the Kennedy-approved amount — half a stick of beef tallow, eaten directly off a park bench.”
The ‘Patriotic Perseverance’ Housing Program
Fannie Mae now allows homeowners to pay their mortgage using “choked back tears equity.”
“Yes, really,” said a program director. “You can submit a notarized log of your 3 AM anxiety attack in lieu of a $600 payment. We also accept video evidence of you watching YouTube tutorials, up on the roof in unsafe shoes pretending you can patch that hole.”
One participant, Kevin from Phoenix, has paid off fourteen months of his mortgage using nothing but “gut-wrenching sobs” and “one particularly vivid nightmare about a sewer line under his property.”
“It’s not much,” Kevin said, performing a perfect Tail Twitch as he spoke, “but it’s honest work.”
He then bought a lottery ticket and a new iPhone.
Meanwhile in Cleveland…
Marla, 41, was asked how she feels about all of this.
“I don’t know,” she said, refreshing Zillow for the seventh time today. “I’m too tired to be angry. Also, did you see the new iPhone?”
She bought it.
She doesn’t know why.
But somewhere, Gary – the mysterious fourth beneficiary – just smiled.
