(In which late-night hosts vanish faster than free samples at Costco.)

🌅 Morning – Breaking “News”

Sno’ Witty wakes up to headlines that read like a clearance rack: “Another Late Night Host Fired!”

She rubs her eyes and mutters,

“Damn, the comedy industry’s got higher turnover than a McDonald’s fryer.”

She pours coffee into a mug labeled ‘Satire Is My Cardio’ and practices her monologue in the mirror:

“Apparently, HR stands for Host Removal now.” “At this rate, I’ll be the only one left, and my show’s broadcast from a folding chair.”

☀️ Afternoon – The Big Idea

On her walk through the streets, Sno’ Witty starts to imagine herself on stage.

She pictures:

A mic stand made of a half-frozen tree branch. Snow as her spotlight. Audience = three confused squirrels and a raccoon who really gets her material.

She scribbles in her notebook:

“Comedy is just tragedy with better timing (and Wi-Fi).”

🌆 Evening – Sno’ Witty Goes Rogue

Scrolling doom feeds, she sees Matt Rife trending again.

She sighs:

“He’s got an Audible book. Meanwhile, I’m just audible when I sneeze.”

In defiance, Sno’ Witty sets up a cardboard stage in the park.

Her set:

Opening joke: “They fired Jimmy Kimmel. Guess who’s next? The snowplow guy—he’s been pushing people around for years.” Closer: “If comedy dies, I’m pivoting to ASMR snow crunches. Subscribe now.”

The squirrels give her a standing ovation. The raccoon steals her mic.

🌙 Night – Self-Reflection

She writes in her journal:

“Late-night comedy used to shape culture. Now it’s shaped like Swiss cheese—full of holes and nobody wants to buy it.”

Then she whispers to the stars:

“Maybe comedy’s not dying. Maybe it’s just moving into the streets, the feeds, and the snow.”

And with that, she drifts to sleep, dreaming of Netflix calling.

September 21st, 2025