New Fire Just Dropped

This comic takes one of the oldest human inventions and gives it the emotional energy of a modern parent complaining about tablets.

TYPE OF COMIC:
Historical Incongruity / Social Satire

HOW IT WORKS:
The comic places a very modern complaint inside a prehistoric scene. Two adults look at children gathered around fire and say, “Look at these kids… addicted to technology.” The line sounds like something someone might say today about phones, tablets, video games, or social media. But the “technology” here is fire.

That is the joke’s first point: it stretches the word technology backward in time. Fire was not entertainment in the modern sense. It was warmth, safety, cooking, light, protection, and community. Still, from the adult point of view inside the comic, it is the new thing capturing the children’s attention.

The joke also turns a familiar cultural complaint into a historical loop. Adults have always worried that young people are too absorbed in the tools of their own age. The device changes. The anxiety repeats.

WHY IS IT HUMOROUS?
The humor comes from the collision between two time frames. We recognize the complaint immediately because it belongs to the present. Then the image relocates it to a world where the newest “device” is a flame.

That mismatch is classic incongruity humor. The words belong to one era, and the scene belongs to another. The mind has to integrate both at once: prehistoric children playing with fire and modern adults grumbling about kids and technology. The result is funny because the adults are technically right and emotionally ridiculous at the same time.

There is also sharp social satire here. The comic points at a repeating human habit: each generation treats the next generation’s tools as suspicious, excessive, or dangerous. Fire, writing, books, radio, television, video games, smartphones, artificial intelligence: every new tool eventually gets its turn as “the thing ruining the kids.”

The deeper joke is that fire really is technology. History repeats. Cave persons arrive with the wrong level of panic. That is what gives the comic its bite. It reminds us that “new technology” often feels unnatural only because we met it late.

DEFINITION:
Historical incongruity is humor created when attitudes, language, or social anxieties from one era are placed inside another era. Social satire adds a critical edge by showing how human worries repeat across time, especially when people mistake unfamiliar tools for moral decline.

Woodpecker 1.0: The Original Power Drill

This comic imagines the first hardware store as one caveman, one unfortunate bird, and absolutely no safety manual.

TYPE OF COMIC:
Incongruity / Bergsonian Mechanization

HOW IT WORKS:
The comic turns a woodpecker into a tool. A woodpecker’s natural action, pecking into wood or bark, is repurposed as if it were a prehistoric drill. The caveman has built a crude device around the bird, complete with a handle, cage, and aiming posture. He is not simply watching nature do something useful. He is trying to convert a living creature into early hardware.

That is the comic collision: animal instinct meets human invention.

The image is funny because it compresses several ideas into one absurd object. It looks like a tool. It is held like a tool. It is aimed like a tool. But the “motor” is a bird, trapped in a cage, doing what birds do naturally. The caveman has discovered technology, but in the most ridiculous possible form: outsourcing the hard part to a woodpecker.

WHY IS IT HUMOROUS?
The humor comes from the mismatch between life and machinery. We recognize the shape of the device immediately. It resembles a primitive power drill or weapon. But the mechanism inside it is not mechanical at all. It is alive, irritated, and probably rethinking its career in construction.

Philosophically, this is mainly an incongruity joke. Two frames of understanding are forced into one image: animal behavior and human technology. A woodpecker belongs to nature. A drill belongs to toolmaking. The comic makes those categories overlap just enough for the absurdity to become clear.

There is also a strong Bergsonian element. Bergson often finds the comic in the mechanical treatment of life. Here, the living bird is treated as if it were an interchangeable part. The caveman’s ingenuity becomes funny because it is clever and stupid at the same time. He has invented a tool, but his invention depends on misunderstanding life as hardware.

That is why the comic works. It shows human creativity at its most questionable: practical, inventive, and morally suspicious in one image. The caveman solves a problem, but the solution makes the world look more absurd than the problem did.

There is also a small satire of technology hiding inside the joke. Humans often celebrate invention as progress, but this comic asks a sharper question: progress for whom? The caveman gets a drill. The bird gets a job it never applied for.

DEFINITION:
Bergsonian mechanization is humor created when something living is treated as if it were a machine. The comic pleasure comes from seeing life reduced to function, especially when the reduction is clever, crude, and obviously ridiculous.

When Nesting Comes With an Allen Wrench

This comic is the bird version of opening an IKEA box and immediately questioning every life decision that brought you there.

TYPE OF COMIC:
Incongruity / Anthropomorphic Parody

HOW THE JOKE WORKS:
The joke places birds inside a very human ritual: flat-pack assembly. Birds usually build nests from twigs, grass, instinct, and whatever suspicious string they find in a parking lot. Here, they have skipped nature’s supply chain and gone straight to IKEA.

That is the first comic collision: instinctive nesting meets modern consumer culture.

The second layer is even better. A birdhouse is already a human-designed object made for birds. The comic turns that inside out by making the birds responsible for assembling their own prefabricated home. They are not just birds anymore. They are customers, homeowners, contractors, and emotionally exhausted furniture assemblers.

WHY IS IT HUMOROUS?
The humor comes from putting two incompatible worlds in the same tree. Birds belong to nature. IKEA belongs to Saturday afternoon frustration, missing screws, and instructions that look like they were translated from silence.

Philosophically, this is mainly an incongruity joke. The image makes us hold two frames at once: natural nesting and human consumer life. Those frames do not normally belong together, which is why the scene feels instantly funny. The bird holding the little wooden part looks less like a creature of the forest and more like someone three steps away from saying, “Do we really need shelf B?”

There is also anthropomorphic parody here. The birds are funny because they inherit human problems. They do not merely act like animals with cute personalities. They act like us under the pressure of packaging, branding, assembly, and domestic expectation. The joke quietly suggests that even nature can be pulled into the logic of buying the thing, opening the box, reading the diagram, and hoping the finished product does not lean emotionally.

There is a light satirical edge too. The comic pokes at the way modern life turns even basic shelter into a consumer project. A nest used to be made. Now it comes boxed, branded, and somehow still missing one piece.

DEFINITION:
Anthropomorphic incongruity is humor created when animals are placed inside human habits, institutions, or frustrations. The pleasure comes from seeing a natural creature carry a recognizably human burden, especially when that burden is ridiculous, unnecessary, or delivered in a flat-pack box.

Magic Carpet, Maximum Fuss

This comic is basically the ancient fantasy version of bringing your laptop on vacation.

TYPE OF COMIC:
Incongruity / Bergsonian Rigidity

HOW THE JOKE WORKS:
The joke places an ordinary chore inside a magical setting. A flying carpet should mean escape, ease, motion, and wonder. It is the opposite of laundry day. But the woman on the right is ironing her flying carpet as if even magic needs a clean crease before takeoff.

That is the first comic collision: fantasy meets domestic control.

The second collision comes from the line, “Can’t you ever relax?” The man is not simply asking her to stop ironing. He is naming the deeper problem. She is already on a flying carpet, floating through the sky, surrounded by enchantment, and still treating the moment like a household inspection.

WHY IS IT HUMOROUS?
The humor comes from the mismatch between the situation and the behavior. We expect a magic carpet ride to release people from ordinary burdens. Instead, the character carries her habits into the clouds. The setting says freedom. Her iron says, “Not until this rug is clean!”

Philosophically, this is mainly an incongruity joke. Two worlds are placed inside one image: leisure and labor, magic and fussiness, enchantment and routine. The mind laughs because both meanings are visible at the same time, and they absolutely should not be sharing airspace.

There is also a strong Bergsonian element. Bergson sees the comic in rigidity, especially when a human being responds mechanically where life calls for flexibility. That is exactly what is happening here. The woman cannot adapt to the freedom of the scene. She repeats the pattern of order, smoothing, correcting, and managing, even when the carpet is literally flying.

That is what makes the joke works. The carpet escapes gravity, but the person does not escape habit.

DEFINITION:
Bergsonian rigidity is humor created when a person acts too mechanically or habitually in a situation that calls for ease, flexibility, or responsiveness. The comic pleasure comes from seeing life invite freedom while habit insists on bringing the iron.

The Doctor Will See Your Ninja Now

 

This comic is funny because it takes one of the most common sentences in medicine and quietly turns it into a survival test.

“Okay, now we’re going to check your reflexes” normally means the doctor is about to tap your knee with a tiny rubber hammer. Very clinical. Very routine. Slightly awkward, but survivable.

Here, the sentence gets upgraded from “medical exam” to “martial arts ambush.” The patient thinks he is at a doctor’s appointment. 

The comic lets us see what he cannot: a ninja with a sword waiting behind him. Suddenly, “checking your reflexes” has a second meaning. Not “does your knee respond?” but “can you avoid becoming a before-and-after photo?”

Philosophically, this is classic incongruity humor. The expected pattern is ordinary and safe: doctor, patient, exam table, reflex test. Then the comic inserts something wildly out of place: a ninja attack. The mind enjoys the collision because both meanings still technically fit. The doctor really is about to check the patient’s reflexes. Just not with the method recommended by most medical boards.

There is also a little benign violation going on. A sword-wielding ninja would be terrifying in real life, obviously. But inside a cartoon, the danger is absurdly exaggerated, emotionally softened, and safely framed. We are not watching harm. We are watching logic lose its shoes and sprint down the hallway.

That is why the joke warrants a wee laugh. It doesn’t abandon meaning. It bends meaning until a routine exam becomes a tiny action movie.

Moral of the story: always read the intake forms carefully. Especially the part where it asks whether you consent to surprise ninjas.

Five Stars for Parallel Parking

 

TYPE OF COMIC:
Linguistic Incongruity / Wordplay

HOW IT WORKS:
The joke depends on the double meaning of the word “validate.” In parking-lot language, to validate parking means to stamp, authorize, or reduce the cost of a parking ticket. The man is asking for a routine institutional act. The clerk hears the same word in its emotional or evaluative sense: to approve, affirm, or praise. Instead of validating the ticket, she validates the parking itself.

The comic turns a boring transaction into a tiny philosophical malfunction. One word belongs to two different contexts, and the clerk deliberately drives into the wrong one.

WHY IS IT HUMOROUS?
The humor comes from semantic ambiguity and misdirected expectation. We know exactly what the man means because the setting tells us how the language is supposed to work. A parking desk creates one “language game”: tickets, stamps, fees, authorization. The clerk answers from another language game entirely: encouragement, judgment, affirmation, and personal approval.

That mismatch creates the comic snap. The man asks for a procedural act. The clerk offers a performance review for his car placement.

Philosophically, this is an incongruity joke because the punchline shifts meaning without changing the word. It also has a speech-act joke inside it. The man is not asking for information or praise; he is trying to get something done with words. The clerk responds as though he asked for an opinion. Language fails, but in a very orderly way.

There is also a light Bergsonian element. The clerk applies the word “validate” too rigidly, as if context has stopped mattering. That little mechanical literalism makes ordinary communication look wonderfully fragile. One wrong turn in meaning, and suddenly a parking ticket becomes a self-esteem exercise.

DEFINITION:
Linguistic incongruity is humor created when a word, phrase, or expression suddenly shifts into an unexpected meaning. The pleasure comes from recognizing the gap between what the speaker meant, what the listener pretended to hear, and how easily language can park itself in the wrong space.

Paying Attention: The Original Search Engine

Type of Comic:
Epistemic Superiority / Incongruity

How It Works:
The joke flips a basic intellectual expectation: writing normally requires knowing something first. The speaker treats that requirement as an unfair inconvenience, as though knowledge is the annoying extra step standing between her and expression. The humor comes from the gap between the seriousness of writing and the childish complaint that thinking should not be part of the deal.

Why It Is Humorous:
We laugh because the speaker says out loud what lazy minds sometimes secretly wish: “Can I please skip the understanding part and still sound like I know things?” That creates superiority humor because the reader feels one step wiser than the character. But it is also incongruity humor because the complaint is backwards. The burden is not absurd; the speaker’s resistance to it is absurd.

Bergson fits nicely here. His comic often appears when a person becomes rigid, automatic, or mechanical where life requires flexibility and attention. This character wants language without thought, expression without preparation, and writing without knowledge. That is the little machine inside the joke: output first, understanding later. Very pre-internet, but also painfully current. The Wi-Fi got faster. The temptation did not.

Definition:
Epistemic superiority is comic pleasure that comes from recognizing another person’s confused, lazy, or backwards relationship to knowledge. We laugh because the speaker exposes an intellectual shortcut that everyone understands, but no one wants printed on a résumé.

The Laugh Equation

Disclaimer: 

This post includes instructions for conducting a philosophically humorous experiment. 

Keep reading if you want to play along.

Otherwise, skip straight to the jokes below!

Everyone's A Philosopher, Even Your Cousin George 

Here is something nobody tells you in school: you have been doing philosophy your entire life, and you are surprisingly good at it.

Not the kind with the footnotes and the German compound words that take three sentences to define and still leave you uncertain. I'm talking the real kind. The kind Socrates was doing in the marketplace before the city of Athens decided he was having too much influence over Athen's youth and made him stop indefinitely. 

Cracking the Humor Code is Mastering the Socratic Method, As Long as That Method is Wrapped Up In A Joke. Results vary. 

Only the spirit of the Socratic method (asking cooperative, albeit argumentative questions that stimulate critical thinking). This method is a disaster for human relations. Then and now. But if you put that sharp critique or ability to expose underlying assumptions inside a joke; now, you've got a recipe for solid entertainment. 

Nobody has to be a professional philosopher to philosophize. That's a specific language that is hilarious in itself. I find seriousness endlessly entertaining because it exposes so much incongruity in the world, I can't help but laugh. 

The reality is people philosophize it at dinner tables, in traffic, at two in the morning when the ceiling offers no useful input and YouTube won't stop showing commercials because you refuse to upgrade to premium. We philosophize with questions so ordinary they barely feel like real questions in and of themselves. But all of these questions are indeed so serious that entire academic careers have been built on coming up with better ways to ask the same question, with no real answer in sight. When I first started writing jokes in 2011, one of my first was about how to hot wire a car. That in itself sounded audacious to me, which made me laugh. At the same time, I wanted people to at least get something practical out of visiting my blog and if Hollywood has taught me anything, locksmithing is a valuable skillset to covet. I digress. 

Is this fair? This question is asked all the time and kept Plato busy for decades. If you ask me, Plato had real reasons to think otherwise. Athens turned on his mentor. Keep in mind that before this, Socrates was a war hero. But he was also a Dumb-Dumb going around asking all those imprudent questions. I mean, they're interesting and all, but the only real skillset he mastered was ticking people off for exposing flawed assumptions they didn't know they had. In retrospect, he might have thought that through beforehand. I digress again. 

What's the point of all this? You might have been thinking that just from reading this article. If so, you're in good company because Camus wrote stacks of papers and a really good book on this. You should totally check out his work online. 

Why can't I be happy? Probably because I'm reading Camus. Kidding. Well, half-kidding, which is precisely the approach Augustine tried. In fact, he tried everything available to a brilliant man in the fourth century — philosophy, ambition, a series of increasingly unsatisfying relationships — and eventually concluded, with the weary precision of someone who has genuinely checked, that the heart is restless until it finds its rest. Which is either the most comforting thing anyone has ever said or the most exhausting, depending on what day of the week it is. 

How Jokes Work

The gap between the ordinary question and what the philosopher hears is why jokes work. It is where the best jokes live. Because a joke and a philosophical argument are running the same logic: 

1. Set up an expectation 

2. Pull the floor out from underneath it, with something embarrasingly true for everyone, in a space that serves alcohol and creates space for shared laughter. 

Jokes About People Appeal To People

Now, consider the logician whose wife has just given birth. She asks, reasonably, with the energy of someone who has just done something exhaustingly extraordinary: so, is it a boy or a girl? Dad replies: yes. Technically flawless. But for his wife, that response was an epic failure. We're talking the human equivalent of a catastrophic event. Dumb-Dumb Number Two answered the question with complete logical precision and missed entirely the question that was meant, which is: be here with me right now AND is it a boy or girl, I genuinely want to know.

Wittgenstein might say that the logician failed to understand the grammar of the situation. His wife might have an entirely different description, shorter and considerably more accurate. I'm on her side. 

Now, for the men. 

Werner Heisenberg, Kurt Gödel, and Noam Chomsky walk into a bar. Heisenberg looks around and says: clearly this is a joke, but how can we figure out if it's funny? Gödel replies: we can't know that, because we're inside the joke. Chomsky says: of course it's funny. You're just telling it wrong. Three of the twentieth century's most consequential thinkers, in one bar, achieving nothing, which is also more or less what happened at the actual academic conferences where they presented their ideas, except the bar has better lighting, with the off-chance of meeting a pretty girl. 

Not the pretty girl you were expecting, but isn't she lovely?

Now, back to OUR EXPERIMENT. 

22 jokes: 

1. I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not so sure.
2. I asked my dog what two minus two is. He said nothing.
3. I told my wife she should embrace her mistakes. She gave me a hug.
4. The cemetery is so crowded, people are dying to get in.
5. I have a lot of growing up to do. I realized that the other day inside my fort.
6. I find it ironic that the colors red, white, and blue stand for freedom — until they're flashing behind you.
7. I'm reading a book about anti-gravity. It's impossible to put down.
8. I used to think I was indecisive, but now I'm not so sure. (Worth repeating. It earns it.)
9. I wasn't originally going to get a brain transplant, but then I changed my mind.
10. A pessimist's blood type is always B negative.
11. I haven't slept for ten days because that would be too long.
12. My grandfather has the heart of a lion and a lifetime ban from the zoo.
13. I told a joke about paper once. It was tearable.
14. I can't take my dog to the park because the ducks keep trying to bite him. I guess that's what I get for buying a pure bread dog.
15. Someone stole my mood ring. I don't know how I feel about that.
16. I have a joke about time travel, but you didn't like it.
17. I went to the doctor and told him I broke my arm in two places. He told me to stop going to those places.
18. Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
19. I used to hate facial hair, but then it grew on me.
20. I'm terrified of elevators. I'm going to start taking steps to avoid them.
21. My wife told me I had to stop acting like a detective. I said: good. Case closed.
22. I have many jokes about unemployed people, but none of them work.

Putting the Jokes To Work

Step one is simple: read through all twenty two jokes and notice which ones make you laugh out loud, which ones make you smile slowly, and which ones make you think for three seconds. That delay is important. The three-second jokes are the ones with philosophical umph. Those are your best material for this experiment, because the audience will do the same thing — laugh, then realize why, then feel slightly smarter than they did thirty seconds ago. That feeling is what you are selling.

Step two: memorize your top five if you can. Not word for word like a recitation, but well enough that you can deliver them in your own voice, at your own pace, with the timing that feels natural to you. The best jokes need the pause before the punchline to land. The punchline is the setup, and that only works if the audience hears the setup second. The surrealist light bulb joke needs you to believe the answer completely, because the joke bombs the moment you signal that you know it is absurd.

Step three: for the jokes you cannot memorize, make actual cue cards. Small ones. Index cards, not pages. Read them deadpan if you have to. Deadpan is not a failure mode — deadpan is a delivery choice, and for this particular category of intellectual humor it is often more effective than performance. The joke about being indecisive is funnier when the person saying it looks completely serious.

Step four: take these to an open mic night. Any open mic. Not necessarily a comedy open mic, though that works too — a poetry night, a storytelling event, a casual gathering where people have agreed to pay attention for three minutes. Tell six jokes. Watch which ones land, which ones miss, and which ones get the slow three-second laugh that means the philosophical payload detonated correctly. Take notes afterward, not during, because taking notes during is a good way to ruin the experiment and also to make the audience feel like lab rats, which they are, but they do not need to know that yet.

Step five, and this is the one that matters most: do not trust the results of a single night. Stats, as we have established, are Dumb-Dumb with a spreadsheet. One audience in one room on one evening tells you almost nothing except what worked in that room on that evening. Go back. Try different jokes in a different order with a different crowd. The experiment is the point. The data comes later, if it comes at all, and if it does not, you have still spent several evenings in rooms full of people laughing at questions that Plato could not answer, which is a perfectly reasonable way to spend one's life. 

I have learned a few things over fifteen years, mostly from the numbers, and the numbers are almost always right about all of the wrong things. What they cannot measure is the moment when a room of strangers laughs together at the same joke and for exactly three seconds everyone in it is thinking the same thought. That is philosophy working. 

More photos, jokes, and stories coming soon.

Funny CEO Jokes

Running a company is serious business, but let's be honest: some days the real executive flex is sending an email without a typo. No missing attachment. No forgetting to add the call to your shared Teams calendar. No accidental reply-all. No "hope you're doing hell" when you meant "doing well". Just one clean, gramatically responsible, legally survivable email. Is that too much to ask? 

Typos are the understated comedians behind leadership. CEOs are expected to make high-stakes decisions, protect the company, build culture, manage risk, understand technology, inspire teams, watch the market, respond to crises, and somehow remember their calendar password. The role can look polished from the outside, but inside the job there's a lot of pressure, a lot of uncertainty, and at least one moment per week where you escape your Outlook and turn yourself into a meme just for a quick laugh. All the while realizing you scheduled an important meeting on your day off and now you're running through your list of excuses that sound more plausible than, "I forgot I'll be at the salon that day." 

That's why having a sense of humor is so important. Not because leadership is a joke, but because leadership without humor can become unbearable. Humor gives people a little space to breathe. It lowers tension, opens a door, and reminds everyone that capable are still people. Even the CEO is one typo, one frozen Zoom face, or one "you're on mute" away from total human exposure. 

A good leader takes the work seriously. People listen better when they're not bracing for impact. A well-timed joke can make a hard message easier to hear. It can turn a tense room into a room filled with thinkers. It can help a team move from panic to problem-solving. That doesn't mean the CEO needs to spend 15 years embracing a humor experiment, becoming the office comedianne. Please no. Nobody needs a leader workshopping puns during a cash-flow crisis. It means the leader knows how to create perspective. 

The best humor in leadership is usually self-deprecating because it does not put anyone else on the spot. It says, "I know the title is serious, but we're all people here, so let's not forget to have a little fun." And you know what? People trust leaders who can admit reality. A CEO who can laugh at her own typo is usually the kind of leader who can admit a mistake, take feedback without blowing a gasket, and move forward without turning every correction into a courtroom drama. 

There's also a fine line with humor (don't squint, or you'll miss it). Good humor connects. Bad humor humiliates. Good humor releases pressure. Bad humor makes people perform fake laughter while updating their resumes in their heads. The difference is maturity and sound judgment. You can't be a tool and then expect people to bring their best tools to the table. HUmor should never be used to dodge accountability, soften cruelty, or make the last powerful person in the room the punchline. Used well, humor is not weakness. It's social intelligence with good timing. 

Good leadership needs a good sense of humor. Companies aren't just systems, assets, contracts, processes, and KPIs. They are people trying to build something under pressure. Meaning, they goofed off last night, didn't get a full 7-8 hours rest, woke up several times thinking it was time to go to work, only to fall into a deep sleep 30 minutes before their alarms rang. Then they rush, chug their coffee, and find themselves cursing all the way to the office whilst playing vehicular frogger. Meanwhile all the teslas pass them by because someone made up a rule about EVs being able to use the HOV lane. Life's not fair. The last thing people want is to have someone crack a joke at their expense. And for good reason. Companies deal with deadlines, family stress, awkward emails, market shifts, a-hole managers on power trips, sneaky office politics, and meetings that give birth to more meetings like wet grimlins. 

Humor helps people carry the weight of the mythical work-life balance without pretending the weight isn't there. So, celebrate the big wins (and the little ones, too). Celebrate contact with the one person in the office who helps you reset vs perform. Launch the product, delve into the turnaround process, solve the crisis, and lead your team to victory or in the case of high-risk industries, home safely to their families. Just as long as you don't need to use words like "synergy" and "intersection" that email should go out clean and clear. 

Leadership is more than vision and strategy. It's the courage let your guard down, signaling to the rest of the team that it's okay to hit send. 

Now that we got that bit out of the way, let's get into what you were promised in the title:

Funny CEO Jokes 

My favorite exercise is running companies.

The CEO tried stand-up comedy, but the board said, “Sit down.”

I told the CEO a joke about stocks, but he said it didn’t have enough shares.

Why did the CEO bring a ladder to work? The company needed higher profits.

The CEO said to think outside the box, so we started selling boxes.

My business plan includes naps and profits.

Coffee first, profits later.

CEO by day, philosopher by night.

Leadership is my cardio.

Business casual humor activated.

CEO mode: always on, occasionally buffering.

Work hard, pun harder.

I’m not bossy. Oh wait, I take that back. 

Born to lead, trained to pause for snacks. 

CEO today, legend (in my mind) tomorrow.

Boss energy fully charged. 

The CEO opened a bakery because she kneaded the dough.

The CEO opened a pizza shop because she loved a good slice of the market.

The CEO told a joke about revenue, but the accountants didn't have an interest. 

The CEO said teamwork is key, so now we all share one air fryer. 

CEOs don’t chase dreams. They outsource them. 

The CEO’s favorite music genre is profit rock.

Making executive decisions and executive desserts.

Meetings today, temporary empire that you read about in business school tomorrow.

Climbing the corporate ladder one typo at a time.