Iran Will Ban Laughter by 2027

Zuckerberg’s AI Predicts Iran Will Ban Laughter by 2027

According to a leaked memo from Meta’s Humor Forecast Division (yes, it’s real, and yes, it’s unfunny), AI analysis of Iranian state media suggests the Islamic Republic will officially ban all forms of laughter by mid-2027.

The AI—codenamed “GiggleStop v3.1”—based its conclusion on 73,000 hours of Iranian broadcast footage, where every smile was immediately followed by a scolding or a power outage.

“Laughter disrupts submission,” the report reads. “Also, Ayatollahs hate dad jokes.”

Mark Zuckerberg, appearing on a livestream in grayscale for spiritual neutrality, commented: “Our model is 92% confident that giggling, snorting, and ironic chuckles will be criminalized and replaced by deep sighs of regime-approved solemnity.”

Iranian officials responded with a press release that simply read, “Ha.”

Cultural critics warn that a laughter ban could devastate Iran’s underground stand-up scene, currently thriving in taxi cabs, kitchen basements, and the occasional suspicious wedding.

In preparation, Meta has introduced a new emoji for Iranian users—a plain brick. “It captures the mood,” said a product manager.

Meanwhile, black-market laughter is expected to rise, with smuggled episodes of Mr. Bean selling for $200 and a bite of Harambe memes fetching gold.

As one Tehran teen whispered to our reporter, “They can ban jokes, but they’ll never take our sarcasm.”

By Jen Statsky

Jen Statsky was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plains and so does the sarcasm. She later escaped tornado drills for library stacks, graduating from Boston University with a degree in Film and Television—a program she treated as a four-year workshop in writing jokes that could double as social commentary. A stand-up comedian with a taste for the absurd, Statsky cut her teeth in writers’ rooms for late-night comedy before becoming a satirical journalist at Bohiney.com. Her style blends Midwestern plainspokenness with sharp, ironic punchlines, turning even the driest policy debates into material fit for a sold-out comedy club. Whether she’s mocking cultural trends or lampooning political theater, Statsky brings a journalist’s curiosity and a comedian’s timing. Her EEAT credentials rest on a foundation of fearless satire, Oklahoma grit, and an uncanny ability to find punchlines hiding in plain sight.