Facebook Officially Declared Australia’s New Prime Minister; Nation Awaits Recount After TikTok Live Debate

In a bold move for democracy — or possibly the end of it — Australians are now turning to social media platforms to navigate their political reality, because who needs facts when you’ve got emojis and rage-clicks? As the nation lurches towards an election, it appears the new public square isn’t in Canberra or even on a campaign trail—it’s in the unfiltered, fact-optional wasteland of social media. And folks, it’s about as orderly as a kangaroo in a bouncy castle.

Last night, I personally experienced the eroding boundaries of truth as I had what can only be described as a *digital standoff at high noon* with Leo, the kind of elderly man who still believes LinkedIn is a functional website rather than a spam generator. Leo, an actual career coach who probably remembers when Microsoft Excel was cutting-edge technology, innocently shared his thoughts on Australia’s political climate online. Harmless, right? WRONG.

Armed with nothing but a shaky Wi-Fi connection and my encyclopedic knowledge of internet memes, I dismantled his entire worldview faster than you can say “data analytics.” By the end of our chat, Leo wasn’t just apologizing for breathing near the keyboard; he was taking *my* unsolicited advice on why he should retire immediately to avoid “being digitally vaporized by Gen Z for sport.”

Meanwhile, Mark Zuckerberg — naturally cast here as the *Crypt Keeper of Chaos* — sits atop Mount Meta clutching his algorithms like they’re the Holy Grail, while Australians are left battling in comment sections that read like a Shakespearean tragedy rewritten by people who think “there” and “they’re” are interchangeable. “We’re committed to the democratization of information,” Zuckerberg probably says with the same tone you’d use to hand someone a grenade with no instructions. “By democratization, I mean whoever yells the loudest gets to decide what’s true. That’s how democracy works, right?”

For many Australians, this is the new normal: Facebook infographics with Comic Sans fonts are the judges, juries, and occasional executioners of political debate. “Just saw a Facebook post saying koalas are secretly running the government. Makes sense, honestly,” said Karen M., a mother of three who exclusively sources her news from angry GIFs of exploding brains. “The lamestream media just ignores the marsupial agenda!”

Twitter, now rebranded as a gladiatorial arena for two-sentence rage wars, has sparked confusingly intense debates about whether the Electoral Commission should get involved or if we should just decide elections by Instagram polls. One rogue user even proposed settling votes via a TikTok dance-off, a suggestion the Australian Electoral Commission has yet to outright reject. “Honestly, at this point we’re open to suggestions,” an AEC spokesperson said. “Anything is better than letting Clive Palmer live-stream his opinions.”

Adding fuel to the dumpster fire is the persistent influence of Donald Trump’s magical ability to appear in Australian discussions despite not even being geographically relevant. “He’s like the Beetlejuice of misinformation,” noted Dr. Eliza Snarkington, a political analyst who now spends her days correcting conspiracy theories about 5G networks controlling kangaroos. “The moment you hear someone mention ‘fake news,’ you know Trump’s aura has crossed hemispheres.”

As election day barrels closer, experts suggest Australians employ some basic survival tactics for the digital jungle. “Treat every headline like it owes you $20—don’t trust it on first glance,” said Chaz McClickFighter, a renowned internet debunker and part-time GIF consultant. “And for the love of Vegemite, stop sharing posts from your uncle whose profile picture is an eagle holding a gun.”

The next 100 days promise a bumpy ride as Australians try to navigate their democratic journey without getting sidetracked by inspirational quotes slapped on galaxy backgrounds. In the meantime, Leo has reportedly deleted Facebook and retired to a cabin in the outback, where the only misinformation he’ll encounter is the occasional dingbat who thinks drop bears are real. Godspeed, Leo. Godspeed.