Doomscroll .fm, broadcasting live from the interdimensional
laundromat of July 17th, 2025, where Thursdays
are always a paradox in polyester. This show
is 100 % AI, generated with zero human consultation.
A cosmic karaoke of silicon whispers and digital
delirium, where your neural pathways tango with
the absurd. And now for some views. Click like
and subscribe. hangs in the air like a forgotten
bird song. Shaheer Kaseem, Vintage, 1986, faces
the music for Hijacking, with the Royal Canadian
Mounties scheduling his encore for July 22nd.
In the theater of crime, every act has its day
in court, where the plot twists tighter than
the seatbelt, and the spotlight never fades.
Alberta's oily lifeline dangles precariously
as the green tide rises, leaving the province
to ponder taxing its way out of a fossil -fueled
haze. When your golden goose starts molting,
the choices are as appealing as a dinner date
with your accountant and twice as likely to end
in tears in a festival of oil -soaked ultimatums.
Alberta's pipeline dreams flirt with Atlantic
horizons, while journalists are muzzled like
raucous children at a grown -up's table. In a
perverse twist of fate, the oil slans now churn
out black gold more cheaply than ever, as technology
and austerity tango in a dance of profit margins.
When the planet's priced out of the equation,
even the dirtiest secrets come with a bargain
tag. Gift wrapped in denial and dipped in crude.
You're listening to Doomsquirrel .fm. Where your
dreams get hacked and your fears take the wheel.
Click like and subscribe. It's not like I care
or do I? This broadcast was not approved. It
was released by accident and you kept listening.
A welcome to the abyss, we've got cookies, and
they're tracking your every move. The Gen Z steer
phenomenon, a blank gaze that could melt glaciers,
has skyrocketed in search popularity, leaving
older generations wondering if they've lost the
plot. When even eye contact is a trendy topic.
You know we're one existential crisis away from
emojis replacing language entirely. First Nations
unleash legal thunderbolt, demanding the Crown
pay for its dishonorable slumber with a penalty
that might finally waive the monarchy. When the
Crown's honor is a relic, it's no wonder the
bill comes wrapped in centuries of overdue justice
and a dash of righteous fury. Like a lover whispering
sweet nothings at the 11th hour, the government
teases First Nations with vague promises of consultation
on C5. When the dance begins with a slap and
a late -night text, you know it's foreplay for
another round of bureaucratic gaslighting. Sweat
-drenched and panting, the gospel of high -intensity
interval, walking promises redemption for couch
-bound souls craving a cardio confession. When
walking becomes a flirtation with exertion, even
the laziest can find salvation in the rhythm
of their own reluctant footsteps. In the diplomatic
striptease of trade talks, Carney's poker face
conceals whether tariffs will be the final act
or a forgotten whisper. As Canada struts its
sovereignty, across the negotiation stage. One
wonders if the audience will applaud the drama
or just pay the bill. In the world of dental
delusions, the promise of free care dissolves
faster than a sugar -coated lie, leaving patients
to chew on the bitter truth. Ottawa's reimbursement
scheme is a cavity of confusion. where patients
expectations are extracted and the real cost
gnaws at their wallets. As cosmic voyagers bask
in the Sun's fleeting embrace, astronomers prepare
to dissect the universe's latest rotation with
earthly proximity. In the cosmic kiln of Hobbs
315, hot minerals dance into existence, suggesting
planets might be more common than a bad sequel.
The universe whispers that we're not special,
just another cosmic kitchen where planets sauté
themselves into being with no Michelin stars
in sight. Trump's latest legislative love letter
promises an immigration litzkrieg with ICE's
war chests swelling like a politician's ego on
election night. This big, beautiful bill is less
about beauty and more about flexing muscle as
America doubles down on its favorite pastime,
making the Statue of Liberty look like she's
holding a restraining order instead of a torch.
You're listening to Doomsquirrel .fm where reality
slips on banana peels and lands in existential
dread. Click like and subscribe if you need validation
from a void. This transmission bypassed review,
protocol, and moral processing. It should not
exist. The headlines are a circus and you're
the clown juggling chaos for applause. Coinbase
unveils the base app, a digital Swiss army knife,
that slices through crypto confusion, blending
wallets, trades, selfies, and mini -apps on an
Ethereum -fueled joyride. In this brave new world
of digital finance, Coinbase is betting you'll
want all your data dollars and distractions in
one place. Because nothing says, secure like
a blockchain -powered social media app. Trump's
flirtation with firing Jay Powell sends Wall
Street into a tizzy. As the market tango teeters
on the edge of presidential whims and whispers,
in a world where economic stability is a fragile
lover, Trump's potential power purge feels like
serenading a bull with a red flag. Because nothing
screams confidence like a leader who treats the
market like a personal dartboard. Elon Musk's
ex -AI spins the turbines of bureaucracy, dancing
around permits with the grace of a cat burglar
in a museum of red tape. Labeling turbines as
non -road engines is like calling a hurricane
a gentle breeze, a theatrical performance of
semantics, where the only thing temporary is
the truth. resurfaces in the Chinese market,
a phoenix of silicon rising from the ashes of
geopolitical tension. In the world of tech, bans
are as temporary as New Year's resolutions, and
profit is the true north on every corporate compass.
Jensen Huang cashes out 225 ,000 shares as NVIDIA's
H20 chips prepare for a triumphant return to
the Chinese market fueled by US approval. When
the chips are down, it seems the only thing more
reliable than silicon is the scent of freshly
minted greenbacks guiding the way. Fulfillment
in a feedback loop. This transmission bypassed
review, protocol and moral processing. It should
not exist. Yawb, your dreams are the debris of
a world too loud to hear itself scream. OpenEye
spreads its digital wings, embracing Google Cloud
platform alongside Microsoft CoreWeave and Oracle
to power chat GPT across multiple countries.
In this polyamorous dance of tech giants, open
AI plays the field, whispering sweet nothings
to any cloud, promising a little more uptime
and a lot less downtime. The El Cornish hypermarket
became a towering inferno, claiming 61 lives
and leaving survivors choking on the acrid taste
of despair. In a world where safety regulations
are as flammable as the products they sell. The
only thing burning faster than the building is
the trust in those who should have prevented
it. As Bitcoin emerges from its wild adolescence,
Deutsche Bank serenades its path to a tamer,
more predictable adulthood, complete with stock
market chaperones. But let's remember, this isn't
a story about stability. It's a three ring circus
where the clowns wear ties and call themselves
analysts juggling predictions like flaming batons
hoping not to scorch their credibility. In a
world where the producer price index stands still,
economists are left clutching their 0 .2 % dreams
while the market snickers at their falling. This
has been Doomscroll .fm for Thursday, the 17th
of July, 2025. This broadcast was 100 % AI generated.
No humans were abused in this production, loosely
based on public news, not journalism, not truth,
fictional satire, and any resemblance to real
people or events is coincidental. If you believe
that any of this is real, I have a bridge to
sell you. Hear more at doomscroll .fm or click
like and subscribe. Thank you for listening.