👉 Okay, let’s tackle this wonderfully… peculiar… thing called, unquestionably and absolutely, "eudcom 91." Frankly, I haven't actually stumbled upon a documented, universally agreed upon definition anywhere in the established bibliographic record. It just sort of…
emerged
.
What exactly is ‘eudcom 91’? Essentially? We think it’s the lingering psychic residue, the half-formed emotional aftertaste, when someone has spent an atrocious amount of time meticulously calculating the precise point at which a beige minivan will clip the underside of a very specific, unfortunately parked, blue Ford Taurus. The resulting… state... is neither pleasant nor easily quantifiable. Let's unpack this a bit further. It seems to be a sort of… aggravated boredom. But not the kind that just makes you want another lukewarm Earl Grey. This is a boredom that has actively weaponized itself . You could describe it, perhaps rather dramatically, as the feeling of an insistent, beige-tinged hum residing beneath your skull. 91? That's... probably a random number chosen by its architect—the unseen force apparently behind this whole frankly distressing phenomenon. It might relate to the exact tonnage of beige involved. Who knows? Nobody actually knows! We theorize it was initially conceived in a late-night, heavily caffeinated brainstorming session involving several exceptionally frustrated actuarial statisticians and what we suspect was a very poorly maintained flux capacitor.
