A very belated happy new year from The Rant. We wanted to be sure and break all of our resolutions so we could focus on you, dear readers. Actually that’s a lie; The Rant resolved to not resolve. Think of all the time and self-loathing we save. And if we do happen to stumble upon a better us, no matter how small, our happiness simply multiplies. To wit: what’s that, I’m an unindicted co-conspirator? High fives!
Did anything happen while we were gone? Our beloved leader, El Pauncho (as his adoring subjects in our new South American colony love to call him), took over Venezuela for the oil? Are you sure? El Pauncho said it himself approximately 382 times while flying on Air Force Dumb? Can’t wait until El Pauncho declares the Colonel is running out of secret spices for his beloved KFC and invades India for cardamon. That gets The Rant thinking. Our neighbor has a much bigger television than us and only watches Hallmark movies on it. Which makes them a Romo-terrorist.1 Now ordering night-vision goggles for a daring midnight raid in time for the Super Bowl and Bad Bunny.2
As a further homage to Benito Musso-not-so-lini,3 we tasered someone for Walking While Harboring a Political Thought that Made Us Sad. We then hired the crack team of fantasy writers that work for Kristi Noem to create a fabulous backstory for the taseree that involved secret cabals, drunken coup plots, and a planned home invasion to steal our neighbor’s flatscreen. We’re as shocked as you; The Rant thought we were the only one eyeing a television liberation. Remember the ICE motto: shoot now and make up a story about the danger to democracy later. Second only to the Justice Department motto: you’re guilty until a judge realizes our incompetence and dismisses the charges.
The Rant has also uncovered a conspiracy of our own. The White House will soon be renamed Big Donny’s Waffle House and Ultimate Fighting Emporium. With the sweet sponsorship dollars, the new ballroom will be extended until it completely encompasses the Earth back to where it started. The first Dancing with the Stars contestant to traverse its entire length while foxtrotting will win blanket immunity for all eternity. Oh, the crimes you’ll commit.4
The Rant writes while buried in the snow. Because 2026 surveyed the incredible legacy of craptacular mayhem that was 2025 and came up with a resolution of its own, “We got to come hard in January to maintain the pace.” That’s right, still just January. Come on 2026, it’s marathon not a sprint. You’ll excuse us now while we go snatch a television to sooth our aching spirits. Then we have to start polishing our foxtrot. We have scores to settle sans repercussions.
- The Romo-terrorist agenda is simple: sugar-coat the American psyche in dreams of dead spouses and our high school sweethearts pining for our return to our idyllic hometown. Generally with a puppy in tow. Once we can longer process reality, they will strike, seizing the government with promises of endless sentimentality. Every day will offer a candlelit first date. Every job will be filled with co-workers comprised of our secret crushes. Insidious. Go binge watch Breaking Bad and Succession simultaneously and come to your senses, citizens!
- El Pauncho will not be attending the Super Bowl because performers Bunny and Green Day “sow hatred.” Thank you for the info, Farmer Vitriol. You were made for overalls. Seriously, in a lab. We wondered where the bad vibes were coming from.
- That’s right: historical fat jokes. Ball’s in your court, Jon Stewart.
- Book from the Estate of Dr. Seuss coming soon. Sample: “Look at that string of Class A felonies/All committed against a slew of uppity Melanies.” Hey, you try knocking out a children’s book with a Ouija board.
