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You ever feel like the economy just needs a timeout? Like—go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. It’s acting like a toddler who throws a tantrum every two hours—except instead of screaming in Target, it just keeps yelling, “Inflation is up another 2%!”

Excuse me? Are you mad at us? Did we forget your birthday? What’s the issue??

It feels like we hired that one broke friend to manage the country’s finances. You know the one—can’t budget $5, but suddenly thinks they can fix the national debt. That’s what’s happening here. The government’s out here making decisions like, “Hmm… $200 for one car wash? Sounds reasonable!”

Bro. Is the car getting baptized? Is it earning a degree?? For $200, I want that car to come out with a job offer and a fresh credit score.

And let’s talk about this word “recession”—because last I checked, “recess” meant fun. Ain’t nothing fun about my bank account looking like an abandoned amusement park. If my wallet’s having fun, it sure ain’t inviting me.

And can we please STOP saying “we’re in a recession” like it’s a vacation we all agreed to take? Ain’t nobody booked this trip! I didn’t sign up for this. You know what I did sign up for? Affordable gas!

Speaking of gas—$6 a gallon?! Meanwhile, minimum wage is $15 an hour. Oh, my car can stay thirsty. It can sip on dreams and aspirations. I’m not paying that.

And don’t get me started on walking—my feet are officially on strike. They hit me with, “Yo, boss, we can’t keep carrying this whole operation.” Same, feet. Same.

Then they hit us with: “Tariffs are working!” Oh really? Not my tariff. Maybe yours. My wallet is on a weight loss journey I never asked for. At this point, I don’t know what’s disappearing faster—my money, my motivation, or my dignity.

The math ain’t mathing. The logic ain’t logicking. The economy is economizing absolutely nothing.

So please—let’s cancel this whole “recession” and upgrade to economic succession. I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds better and at least aspirational.

Because let’s be real… the only reason I even know the word “recession” is because I’m living in it like it’s a bad roommate—loud, broke, and refusing to leave.