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Converts an uploaded photograph into ASCII, HTML or coloured text art, with the character density under your control.

An air horn in a browser tab, installable offline, built by Google engineers as a demo and adopted as a weapon.

A personality test that assigns you one of forty-odd animals, with write-ups considerably sharper than the premise deserves.

Spawns browser windows that dance around the screen and refuse to sit still, harmless but genuinely infuriating.

Daily edit of objects, gear and short videos picked by somebody with taste and no obvious interest in sponsorship.

Satire from a conservative and Christian angle, useful mainly as a read on what the other newsroom finds absurd.

Wiki for an infinite office nobody built, mapped level by level in damp yellow carpet by contributors who take it extremely seriously.

Canadian satire that assumes you follow Canadian politics, and rewards you handsomely if you happen to.

Australia's oldest newspaper, filed from a town with no remaining population, covering the nation with dead-eyed accuracy.

Millions of pages of declassified government documents prised out by freedom of information requests, free to browse.

One button, escalating nonsense, and no way onward except pressing it again. Works on a phone, which is the danger.

One large red button and a clear instruction not to press it. It gets increasingly personal about the fact that you keep pressing it.

Sweet wrappers collected and annotated for decades, arranged by how well the graphic design has survived contact with the present.

The Australian team that built a career on television stunts, still publishing headlines that get them into trouble.

British satire in short bitter columns, mostly concerning the middle classes and the people who irritate them.

Animal rescue stories with the video attached, engineered from the ground up to make you cry quietly at your desk.

One of the first things the internet ever collectively lost its mind over, and it is still rows of dancing rodents and one loop.

Good news redrawn as illustrations by a designer who got tired of doomscrolling and built the feed he wanted instead.

A quarterly printed newspaper of good news and everyday heroes, illustrated throughout, with the archive online.

Punk and hardcore scene satire, written by people who clearly still go to shows and still resent everyone there.

Two Google search terms, one question: which one gets searched more? Your instincts are far worse than you think they are.

Multiple-choice questions where the correct answer is a pun, a trick or an outright lie, and three wrong ones end the whole run.

One cat looking at a monitor showing a cat looking at a monitor, several thousand cats deep and still accepting submissions.

Every possible page of text that could ever exist, already written, sitting at a findable address.

Scroll the length of an absurdly elongated shiba inu, with checkpoints and a leaderboard for the truly committed.

A student sold a million pixels of advertising at a dollar each in 2005. The mosaic is still up, and most of the links now go nowhere.

Long-form comics about grammar, cats, running and grief, from the man who also invented Exploding Kittens.

The original fake newspaper, whose headlines get quoted as fact often enough to sustain a small correction industry.

Five solutions-focused stories a day, from a team that has been running this beat since the mid-nineties.

A stick-figure Dungeons and Dragons party in a story that turned genuinely epic somewhere around strip four hundred.

Timeline readings that describe periods rather than days, phrased as amateur psychology rather than fortune telling.

Beautifully drawn strips that set up a sweet premise and then take it somewhere very dark in the final panel.

Essays and picture galleries drawn from the strangest corners of out-of-copyright print, film and illustration.

Campaigns for the right to repair and runs community fixing parties, publishing the data on what breaks and why.

Ten thousand sheep drawn by anonymous online workers paid two cents each, displayed together as one enormous grid.

Australian satire in short sharp headlines, which is roughly the national attention span for domestic politics.

A team counted every squirrel in Central Park and published the data, the maps and a full illustrated report on the findings.

Cecil Adams' archive of exhaustively answered daft questions, invented decades before you could just ask the internet.

Flick the switch on. A small hand reaches out and turns it off again. That is the entire website and it is somehow enough.

One button, one random pointless website, no explanation offered or needed. The site that turned this whole genre into a genre.

Type anything at all and watch it drift upward and dissolve. Nothing is stored, nothing is sent, nothing can be recovered.

One family documenting Chinese home cooking across two generations, with real detail on ingredients and what you can substitute.

Daily gift catalogue for things nobody needs, and the reason several of your friends own a novelty tap they never use.

Invented dictionary entries complete with etymology and a usage example, none of them real words. Several of them deserve to be.

A rescue that livestreams its foster kittens and feral colonies around the clock, with vets narrating in the chat.

Reddit's fact firehose, where each post is one verified surprise with the source link attached underneath.

Scanned cereal boxes going back decades, with full career histories for the mascots, maintained purely for its own sake.

Bounces a sentence between English and Japanese until the two versions agree, which they rarely do politely.