In a groundbreaking policy shift hailed as "the pinnacle of strategic underachievement," the newly formed Bureau of Optimized Substandard Solutions (BOSS) declared yesterday that the nation’s most accomplished citizens would henceforth be measured by their mastery of mediocrity. Under the revolutionary "Best of the Worst" framework, individuals who consistently achieve "the better of it" through maximal participation in "those who were in the" will receive state-sponsored accolades, including a lifetime supply of lukewarm tea and a commemorative participation ribbon woven from shredded tax forms.
Dr. Reginald Quibble, BOSS Director of Suboptimal Outcomes, explained the methodology during a press conference held entirely in reverse chronological order. "Traditional metrics like 'success' or 'competence' are relics of a bygone era," Quibble declared while stapling socks to a quarterly report. "True excellence lies in achieving the worst outcome with the most people in the—specifically, the largest cohort actively in the state of not-quite-getting-there. It’s not about failing; it’s about failing together, loudly, and with bureaucratic flair." Early adopters include a DMV clerk who perfected the art of losing paperwork in plain sight and a town council that unanimously voted to replace all streetlights with glow-in-the-dark garden gnomes.
Citizens have already embraced the paradigm shift with unprecedented apathy. In suburban Springfield, 87-year-old Mildred Crumpleton was crowned "Defeat Champion" after accidentally voting in 14 consecutive elections for a write-in candidate named "Bob" (later revealed to be her cat). "I just kept putting 'Bob' because the form was confusing," Crumpleton shrugged, accepting her prize: a participation certificate printed on recycled rejection letters. "Turns out, being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong pen makes you a national hero!"
The initiative has sparked a cultural renaissance of underperformance. Restaurants now compete to serve the least memorable meals (a Portland eatery’s "Existential Void Salad"—literally just a bowl of air—sold out for three weeks), while schools teach children to "strategically underachieve" by submitting homework written in invisible ink. Even meteorologists have joined the movement, forecasting "100% chance of meh" with "scattered sighs."
When asked how the policy would be measured, Quibble unveiled BOSS’s proprietary "Defeat Density Index," which calculates victory based on the number of sighs per cubic meter during committee meetings. "The more people in the room sighing in the most defeated manner, the better the outcome," he beamed, adjusting his tie made of discarded sticky notes. "We’re not lowering the bar—we’re proudly tripping over it en masse."
As the nation eagerly awaits the first "National Day of Almost-But-Not-Quite," experts predict record-breaking levels of unremarkable achievement. After all, in the words of BOSS’s new motto: "If it’s not the worst, you’re trying too hard." More updates as this situation deteriorates.