After penning hits such as “Across the Flat Earth in 40 Days” and “What to Expect when you’re Expecting your Election to be Stolen,” I am here to provide conclusive evidence on the greatest issue of our time.
Long March break!
School is closed. What a shame. 😏
The officer says this will be an adventure, and it’ll be over by Christmas!
These were the thoughts that went through our heads when we first received that fateful news last spring.
It’s been eleven months. Eleven months since we’ve been with our esteemed professors and peers in the pursuit of knowledge. Eleven months since we’ve experienced the glory of being packed shoulder to shoulder with our compatriots in a subway car, desperately trying not to look at each other. Eleven months since Stanford students have been to a party — well, since some Stanford students have been to a party (*cough* *cough* the orgy in EVGR). But I digress — we can only hope that life will go back to normal soon.
But don’t think we don’t know what’s really going on here. Listen, I am incredibly grateful for the happy childhood years I had before 2008, of which I remember absolutely nothing. Like many of you, dear readers, I watched the inauguration of President Obama in Washington, D.C., on my television that winter’s day in 480p with joy in my heart and the feeling that I could do anything. Yet, four years later, I watched the same man—who I would like to remind you was already president — be sworn in again, also in Washington, D.C. And when it was time to say goodbye in 2016, I watched with my friends in the library as the newscaster informed us, almost smugly, that we were watching yet another inauguration take place in Washington, D.C.
Did you seriously think we wouldn’t notice this? You put this event in the same place three times. Any sleuth worth their ruth, any detective worth their directive, knows that something is going on here. But you and I, dear reader, are built different. What others didn’t account for is that “Washington, D.C.” has 12 letters. And you know what else has 12 letters?
That’s right. Crazy Frog’s 2006 rendition of Gloria Gaynor’s classic, I Will Survive. Now this masterpiece was supposedly released onto YouTube on March 3, 2011, a website which, I will remind you, dear reader, did not exist until 2014. But that’s another story. Dear reader, there are a total of six comments on this page. Most sleuths, even those worth their ruth, might be led astray by the top comment on this page, the most liked comment, which says “so beautiful 🥺 😭 🤡.” I mean, it has two likes. But we’re built different. My explanation? These are meticulously planted bots. Scroll down to the bottom, and you will see a comment that says “Bem legal! Já havia procurado por ela por aqui uma vez, mas sem sucesso.” Translating to “Cool! I had already looked for her here once, but to no avail.”
Do you see where this is going?
Exactly. One in six of the comments on this page are in Portuguese, yet only one in thirty people speak Portuguese. If my Excel endorsement on LinkedIn is worth anything, I know that this is a 5x discrepancy. Furthermore, the number of countries where Portuguese is the official language is 10. Exactly twice the aforementioned statistical discrepancy. The astute among us may have noticed this is the same number (two) as the number of times (twice) our person of interest was inaugurated (two!).
It’s all coming together now.
Let’s review. Crazy Frog’s magnum opus was released 2011, our discrepancy is 5, 10 countries where Portuguese is spoken, and 2 appears in various places. This adds up to 2028. Sleuths not worth their ruth might at this point resign, saying, “there’s nothing here,” or, “might be a tiny reach mate,” or, “please just shut up, I just asked how your day was going.” But not us! 2028 is 3194 on the DISCORDIAN calendar, which is the only of the 34 major calendars to be in the 3000s at the point! So three is crucial. And what number have we referenced thrice? Two! (Inaugurations, statistics and just now, keep up). So we must remove two numbers from the Discordian year. Naturally, the first and the last. Leaving us with 19. I remind you we’re discussing Crazy Frog.
You know what starts with ‘C’ has a 19 in it?
That’s right. Chromoblastomycosis. 19 letters, that is.
Let’s go in for the kill.
This fungal infection is extremely difficult to cure, and is typically observed in tropical or subtropical climates. And you know what else comes from a warm climate?
Exactly. Carnauba wax. The last ingredient of the international hit candy product line, Skittles. Go to skittles.com. I’ll wait. Exactly. It redirects to the official Skittles Twitter, almost as if they are hiding something. We need to try harder. We need to dig deeper. We need to go where no one else would think to go. We need to go to the website’s much less popular Canadian counterpart, skittles.ca. This redirects again! This time to Facebook! This is where they would hide it! A cesspool of a website where no one else would think to look!
Now I ask you, dear reader, what image was released by Skittles on March 9? The much-criticized “skittles cactus” campaign. Look at it, just taunting us. That skittles cactus. As if saying something spiny is in your future. Spiny. Spiny like the spike-proteins studding a coronavirus molecule! And just two days later, the WHO declared a pandemic.
Skittles knew. And you and I were left holding the bag.
Look, I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I’m not one to make wild claims without solid evidence. But coincidence? I think not.
Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.