In a stunning reversal of bureaucratic momentum, the Ministry of National Affairs announced yesterday that the National Emergency Regarding National References has been officially terminated. The crisis, which began three weeks ago when citizens reported "feeling overwhelmed by the sheer volume of national-themed activities," reached critical mass after the National Committee for National Designations accidentally scheduled National Sighing Day, National Existential Dread Hour, and National Stapler Appreciation Week simultaneously. "We hit peak 'national,'" confessed Undersecretary Barry Quibble, wiping sweat from his forehead with a miniature national flag. "People were whispering 'national' in their sleep. One man tried to pay for groceries with a 'National Sorry Voucher.' It was chaos."
The emergency declaration, initially praised for its "proactive national vigilance," quickly backfired when regional offices began competing to out-"national" each other. The Department of National Snacks mandated all potato chips be rebranded as "National Crunch," while the National Weather Service started forecasting "National Mild Breezes." Panic escalated when the National Anthem was temporarily replaced by a 12-hour drone of the word "national" played on kazoos. "I just wanted toast," sobbed Marjorie Fluster, 68, after being detained for humming 'Happy Birthday' without the required National Joy Endorsement sticker. "They said it lacked sufficient national cadence!"
Resolution came after the National Task Force on National Overload discovered the root cause: an intern had misplaced a decimal point while updating the National Reference Quota spreadsheet, accidentally setting the annual limit to "∞" instead of "15." With the emergency lifted, citizens celebrated by quietly enjoying non-national activities like "sitting" and "breathing without paperwork." Yet optimism proved short-lived. Moments after the announcement, the Ministry unveiled National National Day—a meta-celebration requiring citizens to reference "national" exactly 17 times per hour while wearing patriotic socks. "We’ve learned nothing," sighed Quibble, adjusting his "This Meeting Is National" lanyard. "But at least it’s organized nothing."