Satire

A headline so redundant it hurts: officials confirm a deceased man under Foresthill Bridge was indeed from Santa Rosa. This masterclass in obvious reporting leaves residents bemused and the media's motives questioned.

The Humpty Dumpty Kitchen in Grass Valley now humorously labels mayonnaise as “spicy,” a nod to its conservative patrons’ mild tastes. Locals love the joke, while neighboring foodies find it hilariously old-school.

Grass Valley’s Bud Furbenny, known for his conspiracy-laden videos about roundabouts, Bigfoot, and chemtrails, is suing YouTube after auto-captions turned his name into “Bugs Fuckbunny.” The video went viral not for his theories, but for the unfortunate closed caption error. While Furbenny demands justice, locals laugh and wonder if this mishap was another plot in his wild theories.

In a misguided social media-fueled resurrection attempt, Redding’s Bethel Church youth group unwittingly reanimated Pete “Lazzy T” Trevino, an infamous local killer. Although briefly resurrected, Trevino quickly clarified he’s “still dead” spiritually—and has since been dismissed from various “second-chance” roles, including at a Quickie Mart. Bethel’s youth now plan less dramatic endeavors as Trevino fades back into legend.

Grass Valley’s own Daryl McCracken is recovering from rabies and tularemia after rescuing a squirrel he believes is the target of a government conspiracy. Despite no interest from local authorities, McCracken insists he’s been “targeted” for his activism. Ignoring medical advice and raising a sparse $18, McCracken remains undeterred, vowing to continue his mission to protect Liberty the Squirrel from “the deep state.”

When her latest solo intimacy session didn’t go as planned, Nevada City’s own Mitzy McConnell took to Instagram and Facebook, blaming “deep-seated societal negativity” for her inability to align with her inner goddess. Self-described as a liberated, empowered woman, Mitzy now finds herself locked in a self-imposed purgatory, wondering if the world’s dissonant energies are to blame for her failed transcendence.

Nevada City bar band The Thorny Blackberries sold their entire original song catalog to Sony for $5.34. Known for hauntingly niche tunes like “Highway 49 Blues,” the Crazy Horse Saloon house band sees the deal as validation, even if it only buys them a single drumstick. “We’re corporate now,” says lead singer Zeke.

Despite receiving $3 million in PPP funds, The Broad Street Beacon is closing its doors, citing everyone’s favorite boogeymen: Obamacare, Bigfoot’s mysterious departure from the area, and, naturally, Joe Biden. Throw in a rogue CO2 canister and some colorful local conspiracy theories, and you've got Nevada County’s most ridiculous business closure yet. Don’t worry, locals are here to explain everything—whether it makes sense or not!

Jory Trebilcock of Rhode Island Street insists he's the great-grandson of "Propeller Guy," the man flung by the Titanic’s propeller. With no evidence, he’s convinced Grass Valley to host "Propeller Day," complete with Bigfoot theories, inflatable trampolines, and a Captain’s Hat Toss. Meanwhile, Nevada City scoffs—but hey, pasties will be served.