Shutdown America’s #1 Favorite Pastime: Doing Absolutely Nothing in The Most Effective Way

Shutdown America’s #1 Favorite Pastime: Doing Absolutely Nothing in The Most Effective Way

 

Satire Disclaimer

 

This piece is a parody of political dysfunction and media melodrama. No actual journalists, lawmakers, or bathrooms were harmed in the making of this shutdown.

 

[The Newsroom, lights dimmed like a blackout drill.]

 

Sandy (deadpan): In solidarity with Washington, I move that Informer.Digital immediately shutdown operations.

 

Polly (alarmed): Wait—shutdown everything? Do you mean that we would stop doing everything—can’t report, can’t gossip, can’t even talk?

 

Cornelius (adjusting his bow tie): Exactly. To honor our leaders’ proud tradition of doing nothing, we shall begin the Informer Digital Shutdown and do nothing.

 

Nova (mock gasp): But people will still post selfies! Celebrities will still get divorced! Influencers will still hawk teeth-whitening pens! Who documents civilization if not us?

 

Sandy (sarcastic): Apparently, civilization will just keep…civilizing. Without commentary. Terrifying. Maybe the world needs a little nothing time.

 

Jack (grinning): I say we demand the whole planet press ‘pause.’ Everyone stops. Walkers freeze mid-stride, texters mid-thumb, influencers mid-duck-face. A true global shutdown.

 

Polly: So…like a global game of Red Light, Green Light?

 

Cornelius: Yes! Only this time the loser isn’t shot like in Squid Game. They’re furloughed without pay. Classic government justice.

Gracie: Practical question: what if you need to go to the bathroom during the pause?

 

Jack: You hold it. Democracy depends on your bladder control.

 

Nova: That’s cruel. Imagine history recording the Great Global Shutdown of 2025, brought to you by collective urinary tract infections.

 

Gracie: At least that would give us something to report on.

 

Cornelius: No! No reporting. All commentary is suspended until leadership can find common ground on whether humanity should exhale simultaneously or alternate by political party.

 

Polly (sighing): Fine. Then until the gridlock clears, I’ll just post blank TikToks. That way the algorithm can feel the silence.

 

Jack (raising a toast): Here’s to shutting down—may our inaction be just as loud as theirs.

 

Nova (pacing): Okay but hang on—what about food? People get hungry!

 

Gracie: Technically, if you don’t eat or drink, the bathroom problem is solved. Starvation as a bipartisan solution.

 

Sandy: So the survival plan is: stop eating, stop drinking, stop talking. Not just Congress, but for everybody. One massive do nothing lifestyle.

 

Cornelius: Exactly. Shared suffering as shared governance.

 

Polly (groaning): And what about phone games? I can’t just stand here. I need Candy Crush.

 

Jack: Not allowed. Even gravity is suspended. Every candy piece hangs mid-fall, waiting for appropriations.

 

Nova: Fine. Then I’ll binge-watch tonight. I’ve got two shows queued up.

 

Sandy: Nope. Cliffhangers remain cliffs. Streaming is shutdown. Couples freeze mid-kiss. You’ll never know if they reconciled. Democracy has spoken.

 

Gracie: That’s crueler than the bathroom rule.

 

Polly: Thursday is my ice cream night. With gummy worms.

 

Cornelius: Gummy worms are furloughed. They’ll wait in the freezer until the Speaker and Senate Majority Leader agree on toppings. Another delicious shutdown.

 

Polly: Dogs can’t pee either? You know, if the canine lobby rises up, civilization collapses.

 

Gracie: Romance is suspended too. First kisses postponed until Congress rediscovers compromise. Love itself is now a shutdown.

 

Nova: Emails freeze mid-send. You’ll just get ‘Dear Janet, about your—’ forever.

 

Sandy: Dreams too. If you’re mid-dream when the shutdown hits, you hover in dream purgatory until further notice. Even REM cycles are frozen.

 

Polly: Sports? Does the NFL keep going?

 

Jack: Quarterbacks must hold the ball mid-throw until a funding bill passes. Arms will fall off, but democracy endures. The football play is now on permanent shutdown.”

 

Cornelius (clearing throat, solemn): In short, leadership means compromise—finding shared space, balancing competing needs, and delivering benefits to the people.

 

But instead of building that common ground, too many would rather pick up their ball and go home because you won’t play what they want to play.

 

Gracie (deadpan): And we’re supposed to freeze in place until they grow up? Sounds about right. Another day in the age of the shutdown.

 

Holly (cheerfully barging in): Wait a minute. Are we forgetting the most important part? Monetization! I mean, if we’re going to live through a shutdown, we have to sponsor it, right?

 

I’m thinking: limited-edition ‘Global Pause’ t-shirts. Glow-in-the-dark lettering, because even frozen humanity needs merch.

Chad (snapping his fingers): Oh, better — subscription shutdown boxes! Every month you get a box full of nothing. Literally. An empty box.

But you get the satisfaction of knowing it’s exclusive, curated, nothing.

 

Lana (with faux elegance): Darling, you’re thinking too small. We should sell artisanal jars of ‘Bottled Silence.’ Collectible! Perfect for display during the Great Shutdown. Only $49.99, while silence lasts.

Nova (rolling her eyes): So you’re saying we should sell people… the absence of things? During a shutdown?”

 

Holly: Exactly! Branded absence. That’s the future of commerce.

 

Cornelius (stern): Outrageous. During a shutdown, commerce itself is suspended. Merchandising is non-essential.

 

Jack (mock whispering): Translation: Congress hasn’t figured out the markup yet.

 

Gracie: So no merch, no pizza, no dreams, no romance, and now no profit. This shutdown is officially cruel and unusual.