Good morning — here’s your Monday Minute, and the most breaking news of the week…before it even happens!
Good morning! It’s May 26, 2025 – and you’re listening to the Monday Minute.
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As you know by now, I’m your host, Jon Pejo – and I’ll be covering the most exciting headlines of the week to come before they even happen!
So without further ado, let’s get started with this week’s big news in politics: though a federal judge has fortunately blocked the Trump administration’s illicit move to ban the enrollment of international students at Havard, studies show, if overturned, the school could lose over 90 percent of its smoking-outside-the-library-at-3-AM population.
In culture, as thousands of college students graduated across the country this past week, students from the University of Maryland were particularly excited to hear from world-famous Muppet, Kermit the Frog, as their commencement speaker. Sadly, in a Harrison Butker-esque turn, Kermit, halfway through his address, began to ramble about how “Miss Piggy should worry more about COOKING the bacon instead of bringing it home!” The university’s fraternity row cheered in response.
In sports, between the Pope and the Pacers, someone has got to stop the Midwest. If I hear about “Ope” or “the Bean” or “Bless your heart” one more time I might publicly throw up.
And now for this week’s weather forecast, it’s a former KGB officer!
KGB OFFICER: Spasibo, Jon. According to my internal reports from agents across the region, this week’s weather will be partly cloudy, with spots of rain. It is much like the climate of Afghanistan around this time of year. In fact, it reminds me of a period from late May 1988 to the early days of 1989, in the waning months of our occupation of the region. In a last-ditch effort to flush out mujahadeen insurgents from the region, I was stationed, with seven other men, at a listening post on Mount Sikaram on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, about 80 kilometers southwest of Kabul. By late May, my men and I had assumed the weather would have warmed, but the area’s elevation and our position on the mountain itself meant that winter had dragged on far into the summer. Cold winds would always sweep past our post, nestled in a small cave system right outside a very small village. Here, we could monitor movements on the mountain, as well as the coming-and-goings of the local villagers, who we had to assume were all insurgent sympathizers. Two of my men were Chechen and could blend well enough with the locals, so they were our source of food, water, and more in-depth information of the area’s happenings. Months went by without incident. Summer did indeed heat up, and we cycled our days gathering firewood, drawing maps, and bathing in a nearby stream. All things considered, it was a cushy position, one that I relished in the final days of a fruitless war I knew was coming to an end. That was until January 31st. The howling in the night we had immediately assumed were mujahadeen. We erected our arms and prepared for a raid. But there followed only an eerie quiet that I now know is what all men hear before their deaths. Before any of us could react, a silent, silver shroud flew through the cave entrance and eviscerated three of my comrades. The Chechens, posted at the entrance for midnight watch, were already dead as I found out later. This left me, Sergei – my sergeant and old friend from some work we did in Kyiv, and Alexei, a young prodigy assigned to me for his first mission in the field. Sergei moved to distract the shadow that assaulted us – and immediately paid for it with his life, being decapitated as soon as he ran from the box we were hiding behind. Alexei was in a panic, but it was either run or die. I grabbed him and tried to sprint as fast as I could. I felt the sharpest pain in my life just after but kept running, dragging Alexei behind me. I ran for an hour before I turned around, only to see a blood trail left by where my arm used to be – with no Alexei to follow. I do not know what happened to Alexei, nor do I know what awful thing attacked us that night in the cave. But I will never forget its terrifying silvery presence – and, lucky to be alive, that I woke the next morning to a partly cloudy day, with spots of rain, just like this week.
JON PEJO: What a haunting tale just to get a fake weather report. Anyway, let’s wrap up the Minute with, of course, this week’s horoscope delivered by…an Old London Gangster.
GANGSTER: Now listen, I don’t usually give advice for free – but I’ll make an exception since you’re new around here. Don’t FUCK with me – and don’t FUCK with Tauruses. Just because it’s Gemini season, doesn’t mean you get a free pass to chew the balls off anyone who’s an Earth sign. If you do, you can be sure you’ll get the Taurus horns like two fingers puckered right up your bunghole. That’s an astrological promise, mate – so DON’T go fucking around and finding out.
JON PEJO: And that’s all for this week’s Monday Minute – see you next week for next week’s news now next week.
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