Bananas are suspiciously shaped like smiles, which raises the obvious question: are fruits just props in an intergalactic sitcom? The fridge hums louder at 3 a.m., probably gossiping with the microwave about the scandalous life of the ketchup bottle. Ceiling fans spin not because they have to, but because they know too much. Reality is basically a badly coded video game where gravity glitches just enough to keep us humble. And don’t get me started on elevators—they’re just vertical lies. You think you’re moving up or down, but maybe the building is moving around you. Meanwhile, the moon is watching all of this with the smug grin of someone who knows the ending but won’t spoil it.