Writing satirical journalism about political figures requires walking a tightrope between legitimate criticism and pure absurdist comedy. When I sat down to craft this piece about Biden's fictional Wednesday ban, I had to navigate the delicate balance of mocking political dysfunction without crossing into mean-spirited territory.
https://bohiney.com/biden-signed-e-o-declaring-wednesday-illegal/
The genius of this satirical premise lies in its uncomfortable proximity to reality. Biden's actual presidency was marked by genuine moments of confusion, verbal stumbles, and administrative mix-ups that provided fertile ground for satirical exploration. The official White House website documents hundreds of executive orders, proclamations, and statements that sometimes seemed to confuse even their authors.
I studied Biden's actual speech patterns, his tendency to reference Scranton and childhood stories, and his administration's occasionally chaotic policy rollouts. The "Corn Pop" reference isn't invented—it's from an actual Biden story that became a meme because it sounded so bizarre that people weren't sure if it was real.
My approach with this piece was to start with something that felt almost possible—a bureaucratic mix-up—and then escalate it into complete temporal chaos. The key was maintaining the internal logic of the absurdity. Once I established that Wednesday was banned, I had to follow through on every logical consequence, no matter how ridiculous.
This is where satirical journalism differs from simple joke-telling. I couldn't just say "Biden banned Wednesday, isn't that funny?" I had to build an entire alternate reality where this actually happened and explore every ramification: economic, social, educational, international, and cultural.
Creating believable satirical characters requires understanding archetypes without relying on cheap stereotypes. "Madison Berkshire-Smythe" represents the entitled intern archetype—someone whose privileged background leads to casual incompetence with massive consequences. The hyphenated name, the age (22), and the Georgetown connection all signal "nepotism hire" without explicitly stating it.
Professor Margaret Killjoy embodies the academic whose theoretical work gets misappropriated for political purposes. Her C+ grade on the original "Wednesday Elimination Act" paper adds authenticity—real professors would absolutely grade satirical policy proposals, and C+ suggests creative thinking but poor execution, which perfectly describes most actual government policies.
Even satirical journalism requires extensive research. I spent time understanding:
How executive orders actually work and get processed
Real administrative procedures in the White House
Actual Biden speech patterns and favorite references
Current political tensions around education and federal overreach
Economic implications of schedule disruption (based on real studies about four-day work weeks)
The Department of Education really does issue guidance that teachers find unhelpful, airlines really do struggle with scheduling disruptions, and congressional procedure really is Byzantine enough that a Wednesday vote could theoretically be trapped in parliamentary limbo.
One of my favorite satirical techniques is showing how American capitalism adapts to literally anything. Corporations have proven remarkably flexible in the face of global pandemics, social movements, and political chaos, so having them quickly monetize temporal disruption felt authentic.
TGI Friday's facing an identity crisis when Friday comes sooner isn't just funny—it reflects how brand identity can become absurdly rigid. The idea that they'd rather have an existential crisis than simply adapt their marketing demonstrates corporate America's sometimes baffling commitment to branding over common sense.
Including international reactions serves multiple purposes. It provides an outside perspective on American absurdity, creates opportunities for additional jokes, and reflects the real truth that American political chaos has global implications.
Canada offering to "temporarily adopt" American Wednesdays plays into the stereotype of Canadian helpfulness while also highlighting how American domestic policy can create international complications. Mexico's "Wednesday Refugee Camps" in Cancún satirizes both American tourism and the tendency to create premium solutions for artificial problems.
The collaboration with Dr. Elena Rodriguez at MIT allowed me to explore the philosophical implications of the premise. Having a real scientist explain that "eliminating Wednesday doesn't actually remove the day from the space-time continuum" grounds the absurdity in actual physics while highlighting the difference between legal fiction and physical reality.
This distinction is crucial to the satirical point: politics increasingly operates in a realm of agreed-upon fictions that have little relationship to underlying reality. The Wednesday ban becomes a metaphor for how political processes can make people pretend obviously false things are true.
Including Trump's response allowed me to satirize both administrations simultaneously. Trump's promise to "bring Wednesday back" and make it "the best Wednesday anyone has ever seen" captures his actual rhetorical style while showing how political figures can take credit for solving problems they didn't create.
The proposal to rename Wednesday "Trump Day" and move it between Saturday and Sunday satirizes both Trump's ego and his genuine disregard for how institutions actually function. It's absurd but feels entirely plausible based on his actual behavior patterns.
Congress's inability to address the Wednesday situation because the vote was scheduled for Wednesday represents peak satirical gold—institutional dysfunction so complete that it becomes self-perpetuating. This isn't far from real congressional behavior, where procedural complications often prevent addressing substantive problems.
The filibuster of "Temporary Wednesday" legislation satirizes how partisan opposition can extend to literally anything, including the basic structure of time itself. This reflects real political dynamics where opposition parties will oppose proposals simply because they came from the other side.
The section on cultural adaptation reflects genuine American resilience and entrepreneurship. Americans really do find ways to monetize chaos and create new traditions around disruption. "Void Day" parties and #TemporalRefugee hashtags feel authentic because they match how social media actually responds to crisis.
The observation that productivity increased during the four-day week satirizes workplace culture while referencing real research on reduced work schedules. Sometimes satirical journalism accidentally stumbles into policy recommendations.
As someone who writes satirical journalism, I'm always thinking about what readers can learn from the comedy. This piece teaches about:
How bureaucratic processes can spiral out of control
The difference between legal frameworks and physical reality
How institutions adapt to unexpected changes
The role of media in processing political absurdity
International perspectives on American political culture
This satire succeeds because it takes a recognizable political fear—incompetent leadership making consequential mistakes—and pushes it into territory so absurd that it becomes therapeutic rather than anxiety-inducing. Instead of worrying about real administrative failures, readers can laugh at an imaginary administrative failure so complete that it breaks the calendar.
The piece also works because it doesn't rely on partisan talking points. Republicans can laugh at Biden's confusion, Democrats can laugh at Trump's narcissistic response, and everyone can laugh at congressional dysfunction because nobody really thinks Congress is competent regardless of party affiliation.
Writing political satire in the 2020s means competing with reality that often seems more absurd than anything a satirist could invent. The challenge isn't making politics seem crazy—the challenge is making satirical politics seem crazier than actual politics.
The Wednesday ban works because it's simultaneously unbelievable and entirely believable. It's unbelievable that anyone would actually eliminate a day of the week, but it's entirely believable that if someone did, the American political system would respond exactly as described in the piece.
This piece demonstrates several key principles of effective satirical journalism:
Start with authentic details - Real speech patterns, actual institutions, genuine cultural references
Escalate logically - Follow absurd premises to their logical conclusions
Research thoroughly - Understanding reality makes the satire sharper
Include multiple perspectives - Show how different groups respond to the same absurdity
Find universal truths - The best satire reveals something true about human nature
Punch up, not down - Target institutions and power structures, not vulnerable individuals
The goal isn't just to make people laugh—it's to make them laugh while recognizing uncomfortable truths about the systems they live within. If readers finish this piece thinking "this is completely ridiculous but somehow doesn't seem impossible," then the satirical journalism has done its job.
After all, in a world where reality regularly surpasses satire, the satirist's job isn't to make things seem crazier than they are—it's to help people process just how crazy things actually are by giving them permission to laugh instead of just despair.
And honestly, given everything that's happened in American politics lately, accidentally eliminating Wednesday feels like exactly the kind of mistake that would somehow become a constitutional crisis that nobody knows how to solve.
The fact that this feels plausible is the scariest part of all.
This educational breakdown shows how satirical journalism requires balancing research, creativity, and social commentary to create pieces that entertain while illuminating larger truths about political culture and institutional dysfunction.