Once upon a press conference in Minneapolis, there was a mayor — a gentle fellow named Simple Frey — whose messaging had all the consistency of a weather vane in a tornado.

Simple Frey began his day with a solemn announcement: “Today we shall have a grand festival where ICE agents will juggle water balloons and cupcakes in the sunshine,” he declared to reporters. “And if they drop a cupcake, that’s violent aggression.” Everyone nodded politely. It was how Simple Frey communicated things.

Soon after, Simple Frey was handed a video clip. They said it was of ICE agents doing their federal duties — enforcing immigration law, just like they had under previous administrations. But Simple Frey squinted at the screen and confidently said, “That’s not ICE. That’s a parade of tap-dancing federal marshals being chased by peacocks with firecrackers tied to their tails.” And so, a press release went out.

When someone asked him about a shooting involving a federal agent that actually happened on East 34th Street (yes, really, folks), he scratched his head and said:

“According to my notes, they were performing an interpretive dance with bottles of moonshine and flamingo feathers, and then — poop bombs.”

His aides tried to correct him, but Simple Frey was resolute: “Nope. That’s how it happened.”

Reporters searched for the actual facts — angry protests, conflicting accounts, local officials calling for a transparent investigation — but every time someone shared reality, Simple Frey replied: “Sounds made up. Probably Donald Trump.”

One day, Simple Frey declared:

“We’ve only had two shootings in town this year. One was ICE, one was a magic trick gone wrong. So by my math, Minneapolis is safe.”

Scientists frowned. Mathematicians cried. But Simple Frey held firm.

At the next press event, someone asked, “But didn’t you say ICE was surrounded by mobs throwing objects and firecrackers?”

Simple Frey’s eyes widened with earnest confusion:

“Yes, yes, they were! I mean… was that yesterday? Or perhaps in a dream where penguins ran for office?”

Nearby, an ICE agent quietly walked away, still in full uniform, bewildered at the sudden spike in cupcake-related violence that no one else seemed to witness. Others said he walked with a hop in his step — something Simple Frey described as definitive proof that coordinated peacock riots were imminent.

And so, the legend of Simple Frey grew:
A mayor who could reimagine video evidence like Picasso painted faces,
who blamed every ordinary federal duty on secret underground cabals,
and who described his city with the same precision one might use describing a mythological land populated by lawful unicorns and peaceful protesters who carried only biodegradable marshmallows.

The End (or at least the next press release).