Stunned Americans watched in horror this New Year’s as the ball dropped in Times Square, and Opposite Day 2016 became the first Opposite Day in recorded history to bridge consecutive calendar years. Now, nearly three months later and with no end in sight, many don’t know what – or, even, how – to think.

“It was-not-was almost fun at first,” began puzzle maker Laverne Northcutt, “trying to figure out how the bad guys became the not-bad guys…or how they became the not-bad-not-guys…or do I also have to refute the plurality of ‘guys’? I can’t fucking bring myself to care anymore.” Ms. Northcutt, entangled in a semiotic web of meta-negation, shut down at this point in the interview and inhaled deeply from a bottle of ether.

Confusion continues to mount as more and more people lose their ability to rationalize the world around them, given the contrapositive, conceptual framework, upon which Opposite Day is constructed. It has become increasingly difficult, it would seem, to make even the simplest of statements without fear of public reprisal. For example, an assertion like “I am going to the toilet” can now only be understood as “not-I isn’t going away from the not-toilet” or, more succinctly, “I am going to the president”.

When reached for comment, disgruntled Soviet comedian Yakov Smirnoff growled, “This is what I was warning you dipshits about the whole time.”


“In Communist Russia, we have no sympathy for you!”

Those less concerned about the unprecedented perpetuation of Opposite Day include symbolic logicians, who are enjoying their longest ever period of uninterrupted professional relevance, and aging Gen-Xers, who are using this interval of suspended reality to finally figure out what Donnie Darko is about.


“Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?”

Theoretical physicist Michio Kaku illustrates the abstract nature of Opposite Days by drawing a large circle on one side of a blackboard, representing our normal universe, and, on the other side, drawing an antiparallel simulacrum of the same circle, representing “this bullshit”. He then pounds his head onto the surface of the original circle over and over again, explaining, “With enough dumb, repetitive energy, we as a society can sufficiently injure reality to actually dig underneath the bottom of what we understand to be true. With this, Opposite Day begins to exert small influences over our existence.”



As blood runs down Michio Kaku’s forehead, he pauses his infernal battery long enough to clear his eyes of gore. “As I shove my head through the chalkboard, I am, in essence, creating a half-dimension between our world and that of Opposite Day. I call it ‘The Dumbfuck Dimension’. We can only pray that we die before we smash all the way through.”

While the 2016-2017 Opposite Day is a brutal reminder of our tenuous foothold in the abyssal precipice of rationale, it is not without historical precedent. Other notably prolonged Opposite Days include the 1980 season of Saturday Night Live, in which Joe Piscopo was mistakenly acknowledged as human, the Falklands War, and the weeklong period in November of 2003 when Kevin was not a fag.



However unlikely, Opposite Day is not without its advocates. Baseball caps – traditionally reserved for athletes – bumper stickers, and handcrafted signs employing “alternative spelling” techniques, have appeared throughout much of North America since Opposite Day began, apparently in support of this bloodbath of factual uncertainty. As recently even as last week, a festering, sepia-tone rutabaga insisted on national television that, despite widespread and publicly available evidence to the contrary, everything was going tremendously.


“I’m a good guy – very smart.”