We pride ourselves on being the world’s most unreliable source of information, and our communication department is no different.

Look, we get it. You’re sitting there, probably in your bathrobe on this fine Tuesday, March 3rd, 2026, and you’ve got something to say. Maybe you’re upset that we reported the moon is actually a giant ball of aged provolone, or perhaps you’re just lonely and the “Contact Us” button was the only thing that looked like it might talk back.

Whatever the reason, you’ve reached the digital doorstep of The Real Fake Times. We pride ourselves on being the world’s most unreliable source of information, and our communication department is no different. We treat our inbox like a game of Hot Potato, except the potato is made of lava and we’re all wearing oven mitts made of indifference.

Before you reach out, please understand that our “Complaint Department” is currently a 20-gallon galvanized steel trash can located behind a dumpster in an alleyway in Toronto. It’s very efficient. It has a 100% processing rate, mostly thanks to gravity and the occasional hungry raccoon.

If you’re still determined to bridge the gap between your brain and ours, here is the official guide on how to talk to us.

Fake News Tips: Lie to Us, We Love It

The backbone of The Real Fake Times isn’t integrity, it’s imagination. We don’t want “facts.” Facts are boring. Facts have rules and require things like “evidence” and “corroboration.” We want the spicy, unverified rumors that you overheard in a dimly lit Arby’s.

Have you discovered a secret portal in a fast-food bathroom? Someone already beat you to the McPortal story, but we’re always looking for sequels. Maybe there’s a Burger King that leads to the 5th dimension? We’re all ears.

When submitting a fake news tip, please keep the following in mind:

• Make it plausible-ish: If you tell us that Bigfoot is real, we sleep. If you tell us Bigfoot is real and he’s honestly disappointed in your life choices, we print.
• Adjectives are your friends: Don’t just say “a cat climbed a tree.” Say “a sentient, neon-green feline with a PhD in Existentialism scaled a suburban oak tree to protest the price of kibble.”
• Photographic “Evidence”: If you have a blurry photo of a smudge on your camera lens, send it over. We’ll tell everyone it’s a UFO or a ghost. We aren’t picky.

We believe everyone has a little liar inside them, it’s alright buddy, let it out. We’re here to give those lies a home.

Legal Threats: Our Premium Coaster Collection

We receive a lot of mail from people with fancy titles like “Attorney at Law” or “Process Server” or “Mom, please stop writing about the neighbor’s dog.” To these people, we say: Thank you for the high-quality cardstock.

At The Real Fake Times, we have a very specific workflow for cease-and-desist letters. First, we admire the font choice. Lawyers love a good serif font, it screams “I’m expensive and I have a mahogany desk.” Then, we immediately repurpose the letter as a coaster for our morning coffee.

There is something deeply satisfying about resting a sweating mug of lukewarm bean water on a document that threatens us with a multi-million dollar defamation suit. The ink smears just right, creating a beautiful, marbled effect that really elevates the office aesthetic.

If you are planning to sue us, please ensure your legal threats are:

1. Printed on heavy-duty paper: We prefer 100lb cover stock. It handles the condensation from an iced latte much better.
2. Double-spaced: It gives us more room to doodle little smiley faces in the margins while we ignore the “Immediate Action Required” header.
3. Mailed in a pretty envelope: Our intern, who is also a golden retriever named Goldie, likes the taste of the adhesive on the “Priority Mail” envelopes.

Please note that our legal team consists of a single “Choose Your Own Adventure” book from 1984 and a stack of expired coupons. We are very confident in our defense.

General Compliments: The Bathroom Gallery

We aren’t all cynicism and sarcasm here. Sometimes, people actually say nice things to us. They say things like, “This is the only news I trust,” or “How did you know my toaster was plotting against me?”

We value these compliments deeply. In fact, we value them so much that we print every single one of them out, put them in ornate gold frames, and hang them in the staff bathroom.

Why the bathroom? Because that’s where we do our most profound thinking. When an editor is sitting there, pondering the ethical implications of reporting that Canadian squirrels have mastered cold fusion, they can look up and see your kind words. It reminds us that there are people out there who appreciate the “truth” as much as we do.

If you’d like to see your name on our “Wall of Fame (and Toilets),” send us a compliment. Tell us we’re doing a great job. Tell us Samuel Friday is a visionary. Just don’t expect a reply, our hands are usually busy with the framing hammer.

Carrier Pigeon Instructions: Escaping the Cloud

In this digital age, everyone is obsessed with “the cloud.” But honestly? We don’t trust it. Anything stored on a server can be hacked, tracked, or turned into an AI that tries to sell you insurance. You know what can’t be hacked? A bird.

For those of you who share our healthy paranoia, we officially support communication via Carrier Pigeon. It’s organic, it’s decentralized, and it provides a bit of exercise for the avian community.

To send us a message via pigeon, please follow these strict protocols:

• The Message: Write your message on ultra-lightweight parchment. If the paper is too heavy, the pigeon might get tired and start a new life in a different city. We don’t want to be responsible for bird-divorce.
• The Attachment: Secure the message to the bird’s leg using a small piece of twine. Do not use duct tape. We are a satirical news site, not monsters.
• The Destination: Aim the bird toward Toronto. If it lands on a CN Tower ledge, it’s close enough. Our “receptionist” (a guy named Dave who sits on a park bench nearby) will keep an eye out.
• Incentives: Include a small pouch of high-quality sunflower seeds. If the pigeon arrives hungry, it tends to be cranky, and we already have enough cranky people in the office.

Please note that we do not accept messages via seagull. Seagulls are the “tabloid journalists” of the bird world, they’re loud, they steal your fries, and they have no respect for personal boundaries.

General Inquiries (The Trash Can System)

“Why don’t you have a phone number?” you might ask. Well, because phones are terrifying. Have you ever answered a call from an unknown number? It’s either a robot telling you your car’s warranty has expired or a human being who wants to “talk.” Both are unacceptable.

Instead, we use the Trash Can System. It’s a sophisticated, analog method of message sorting.

1. You send us an email.
2. Our server automatically redirects it to a folder labeled “Important Inquiries.”
3. Every Friday, the “Important Inquiries” folder is automatically deleted by a script we call “The Janitor.”

This ensures that our mental health remains pristine and our “About” page remains the only place where you can find any actual information about who we are (which, let’s be honest, isn’t much). You can find that here: About The Real Fake Times.

A Note on Response Times

Our current response time is approximately “whenever we feel like it,” or “the next time a leap year falls on a Friday the 13th.” If your inquiry is urgent: for example, if you are currently being abducted by aliens who look exactly like Danny DeVito: we recommend calling emergency services. They won’t believe you, but they’ll respond faster than we will.

We are a small team here at The Real Fake Times. Most of our day is spent staring at a blank screen, trying to figure out if we can legally claim that gravity is just a suggestion made by the government to keep us from floating away. It’s hard work, and it doesn’t leave much time for “customer service.”

Final Words of Encouragement

Don’t let our lack of responsiveness discourage you. Your voice is important: just not to us. Write that angry email! Send that pigeon! Frame that legal threat! It’s all part of the beautiful, chaotic dance of the internet.

We’re glad you’re here, even if you’re only here to tell us that our grammar is atrocious (it is) or that our stories are fake (we know).

Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a trash can to empty and a pigeon to feed. Stay weird, stay skeptical, and remember: if it sounds true, it’s probably not from us.

If you got through probably one of the longest contact us pages ever, and you want to still contact us, you 

can at: 

therealfaketimes@gmail.com