For the third straight day, activists gathered outside government buildings carrying signs that read, "Facts Are Violence," "Gravity Is a Social Construct," and the increasingly popular, "Appeal to a Higher Court Than Physics."
The demonstrations followed a series of Supreme Court decisions that reignited debate over constitutional interpretation and women's sports, prompting thousands of professional outrage consultants to work overtime.
"We're deeply disappointed that observable reality continues receiving legal recognition," sighed fictional spokesperson Harmony Inclusiva while adjusting a helmet made entirely of recycled participation trophies. "The Court has once again privileged evidence over feelings, and frankly, that's exhausting."
Within hours, several universities announced new emergency seminars titled Coping With Reality Without Actually Accepting It.
Attendance quickly exceeded capacity after organizers promised emotional support llamas, artisanal gluten-free kale chips, and certificates verifying participants had survived a difficult constitutional experience.
Meanwhile, cable news panels immediately expanded from six commentators to fourteen, ensuring every possible interpretation could be shouted simultaneously.
"Our experts have carefully reviewed the decision," declared one imaginary television analyst. "While we haven't read it yet, we're confident it's unprecedented, dangerous, historic, and probably racist somehow."
To help Americans process the news, one nonprofit unveiled a downloadable "Constitution Feelings Wheel," allowing citizens to identify whether they were experiencing betrayal, confusion, existential dread, or insufficient Wi-Fi.
Several corporations joined the conversation by updating their logos with an additional rainbow gradient and releasing statements promising to "stand with whichever opinion trends highest by Thursday afternoon."
Not wanting to be left behind, one city council unanimously approved a resolution condemning reality until an equity audit could determine whether gravity disproportionately affects shorter people.
A local pastor reportedly thanked the council for reminding everyone why churches still attract people looking for something sturdier than opinion polls.
Across social media, influencers began posting dramatic farewell videos announcing they were leaving America forever.
Most reportedly relocated to Canada for approximately forty-five minutes before discovering paperwork was involved.
One fictional constitutional scholar proposed creating a "Department of Emotional Appeals," where disappointed citizens could challenge any unpleasant fact before a panel of certified therapists and interpretive dancers.
"It won't change reality," she admitted, "but everyone will leave feeling validated, and isn't that what jurisprudence is really about?"
Congress briefly considered funding the department before realizing there wasn't enough room in the federal budget after allocating billions for the National Commission on Inclusive Paperclip Standards.
By sunset, the demonstrations had largely concluded after organizers learned that megaphones require batteries manufactured according to the laws of physics they had spent the afternoon protesting.
Witnesses described the ending as peaceful, educational, and deeply inconvenient for anyone attempting to suspend reality indefinitely.
The Constitution remained intact, gravity continued functioning without public approval, and reality once again declined to issue an apology.
