America has built the largest ‘Happy Hell’ mental institute…where your toaster can’t hear you scream!

Funny story written by Ana Sian

Sunday, 4 June 2023

image for America has built the largest ‘Happy Hell’ mental institute…where your toaster can’t hear you scream!
She looks scared ... probably all in her mind

America has built the world’s largest nut house, or loony bin, or funny farm, or "Medical Institute for the Mentally Impaired Whack-Jobs."

And they have plans to build more! At least one per state, though some states may need more than a few. The institute spreads over three counties, plus goes down to a depth of 10,000 meters. What’s down that far, in the sub-sub-basement? Only a chosen few know for sure.

Why are the Americans doing this?

This reporter talked off-record with "Deep Brain," an insider at the Institute, who said this:

"Covid is not over. It's just the beginning. They've now put their nano-bots into our bodies and brains, and if we don't die from heart attacks or strokes, we'll go crazy. In fact, everything you do or say will be labeled crazy. Why do you think the Brits aren't allowed to protest anymore? Say a single thing against the status quo, and you're mad for life."

"I see," I said. "But why not just prisons? America has tons of super max prisons, which they're quite proud of. Don't a lot of prisons mean your nation is good and compassionate to the mentally ill, and you have succeeded in being civilized–"

"No, dude, no! The prisons remain — for traditional prisoners. The nut houses are for the rest of us. Some housewife says she doesn't like the First Lady's dress — and guess what? Her toaster and laptop and smartwatch and gold filings and her TV and radio and security camera doorbell and her frickin' car are all listening to her every word! The government is inside your house right now. And where do you put Mr. and Mrs. Happy Homemaker when they start questioning the quo? Happy prisons!"

Sounded like a nice place to be, but I was assured by Deep Brain that I was thinking how "they" wanted me to think, though he didn't say openly who "they" were.

"If I say they, then they are listening and know it's them—and then it's Happy Hell for me too!"

He ran away, down a long concrete corridor where the fluorescent bulbs were always flickering. I returned to the press pool, where I was given a strange liquid to drink, plus a free laptop, doorbell, toaster, two gold filings, and a pair of cufflinks that hummed.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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