FDA Accidentally Approves Bluetooth

FDA Accidentally Approves Bluetooth Brain Grill

Washington, D.C. — In a late-night paperwork mix-up, the Food and Drug Administration accidentally approved a Bluetooth-enabled brain-mounted hibachi grill instead of Neuralink’s latest neural interface.

The product, submitted under the name “Neurogrill™,” was intended as a performance art joke by inventor Blaze McButane, who once cooked a hot dog on his uncle’s pacemaker.

Due to identical formatting and an overworked FDA intern named Jasper, the brain grill was granted full Class II approval, allowing “direct cranial application for culinary stimulation.”

By sunrise, five TikTok influencers had already installed the device and made scrambled eggs using thought energy and positive affirmations.

“It works,” said influencer @GrillDaddyNeurologica, “but the sizzle gives me dreams about Gordon Ramsay yelling in my spine.”

The FDA quickly retracted the approval, noting that while “we are open to innovation,” the brain is “not an appropriate site for propane tanks or hotplate arrays.”

Neuralink has distanced itself from the grill, though Elon Musk briefly tweeted “🔥🔥🔥 Brain BBQ coming soon 🔥🔥🔥” before deleting it.

Congress has called for a review of FDA application protocols, especially since a toothbrush that whispers compliments was also mistakenly approved as a nasal decongestant.

Neurogrill is now banned in 47 states and all public libraries.


By Allison Silverman

Allison Silverman was born in New Haven, Connecticut, and honed her comedic chops at Yale University, where she allegedly double-majored in Political Satire and Free Buffet Attendance (officially, American Studies). A writer and producer with credits on some of the sharpest late-night comedy shows, she has spent her career blending high-minded commentary with punchlines that land harder than a freshman philosophy debate. As a stand-up comedian, she leans into deadpan irony, often turning the smallest social slip-ups into epic morality plays. At Bohiney.com, Silverman thrives as a satirical journalist, filing dispatches that read like exposés if exposés ended with rim-shots. Her work bridges journalistic rigor with absurdist flair, establishing her EEAT bona fides while ensuring readers laugh at the evidence presented. Whether dismantling politics, pop culture, or brunch etiquette, Allison Silverman proves that satire is best served with both authority and a wink.