The full moon cast an eerie glow over the dense forest. Five members of the Evergreen County Search and Rescue team trudged through the underbrush, their flashlights cutting through the oppressive darkness. They had been searching for hours, seeking any sign of the missing hiker, Chad Pilgrim, who had ventured into these woods three days ago and never returned.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Cap," muttered John McIntyre, the team's medical expert, as he swatted away a mosquito the size of a small bird.

Captain Wretched Sinner, a man whose name was as impressive as his mustache, grunted in response. "Keep your wits about you, team. These woods... they're not natural."

As if on cue, a twig snapped in the distance. The team froze, their breaths catching in their throats.

"What was that?" whispered Arthur Schopenjuper, the rookie, his voice cracking like a pubescent boy's.

"Probably just a squirrel," replied Jeff Dobbs, the team's tracker. But his hand instinctively tightened around his hunting knife.

They pressed on, the shadows seeming to grow longer with each step. The trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, ready to snatch unwary rescuers.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the night air. It wasn't human – it was too high-pitched, too... mechanical.

"What in the name of all that's holy was that?" gasped Theodulfo Borfoni, the team's equipment specialist.

Before anyone could respond, a figure burst through the undergrowth. In the beam of their flashlights, they saw a sight which horrified them into a motionless stupor.

It was a man, but not just any man. His chin – dear God, his chin – was impossibly large, jutting out like the bow of a ship. His hair was a perfect silver coif, defying the laws of nature and hairspray.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the figure called out. "You folks look like you could use a good laugh!"

The team stood frozen in horror as they realized who – or what – stood before them.

"Dear Lord," whispered Captain Sinner, "it's... it's Jay Leno."

Jay's eyes glinted maniacally in the moonlight. "Why the long faces? Did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut? He just needed a little space!" His distinctive chuckle echoed through the trees, sending shivers down their spines.

McIntyre let out a strangled sob. "Make it stop," he pleaded.

But Jay was unstoppable now. He advanced on the team, each step punctuated by another terrible joke. "Why don't scientists trust atoms? Because they make up everything!"

Schopenjuper fell to his knees, clutching his ears. "No more! Please, no more!"

The team tried to run, but they found themselves surrounded by a sea of dad jokes.

"What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta!" Leno bellowed, his chin somehow growing even larger as he spoke.

Borfoni let out a primal scream of anguish. "We came to save someone, but who will save us?"

Jay swiveled towards Dobbs, his eyes locking onto the tracker like a predator's. "Hey, you look like an outdoorsy type! What did the tree say to autumn? Leaf me alone!"

Dobbs, who had been quietly trying to plot an escape route, sank to the ground, mumbling incoherently about wanting to be lost in the woods forever if it meant escaping this comedic nightmare.

As the night wore on, the forest echoed with the sound of forced laughter and the sobs of the damned. The search and rescue team had found something far worse than they could have imagined. They had found Jay Leno, and there was no escape.

In the days that followed, hikers reported hearing strange sounds in the woods – the groan of tortured souls and the echo of terrible jokes which were always, always, followed by that unmistakable Leno chuckle.

The Evergreen County Search and Rescue team was never seen again. Some say that on quiet nights, you can still hear their anguished cries.

As for Chad Pilgrim, the original missing hiker? Legend has it he stumbled out of the woods weeks later, his hair turned white, muttering something about "the good old days of American television." Chad was never the same again

Daily Reminder that pretty much everyone who calls themselves "right wing," even "ultra right" and "traditionalist-leaning" are just libs whose minds are trapped by 17th century enlightenment notions like "freedom," "human rights," and "free speech."

Sorry to say, but not even here at The Daily Poor can you get true right wing content. It's just never been tried before.

Did they hire some homosexual American Zoomer to write their News stories? The use of emojis here boggles my mind

Am making pizza dough... Suddenly, I wonder "would a sourdough Neapolitan-style pizza be good?"

Any of you poorcel pizza fanatics tried this? Is it the most right wing pizza? 🤔

From 2007:

In Richmond takeover the 580 with sideshows. Shut the whole 580 freeway down.

north richmond 510 bay area. Fuck all you hater ya mad cause ya cant be like us.