Unless you’ve been living under a rock this past year (which, given the state of our union, doesn’t sound all that bad), you know Ye has taken his signature brand of crazy to soaring new heights, not merely flying over the coocoo nest but setting it on fire, pissing to put it out, and throwing a MAGA hat on the ashes. Now, Kanye could easily have made this list just from the residual head shaking moments of years past (remember in 2016 when he publicly asked Mark Zuckerberg for a mere $40M to get him out of debt? How the alien lizard dressed in human skin turned that down is beyond us), but one moment stands atop the crazy mountain: The Trump Meeting. If you don’t immediately recall the bizarre and lengthy soliloquy Yeezy delivered to the man in orange, here’s just a few of his 100% bulletproof, logically-sound claims:

  • He is in the 98th percentile on his IQ test.

  • He's not bipolar, he really just suffered from sleep deprivation.

  • Automaker Ford should design the "dopest" cars, the "fliest most amazing cars."


Now, no matter your political affiliation, Kanye deserves some credit here for using his celebrity to shed light on real social issues that don’t necessarily benefit him directly (golf clap). Despite these good intentions, the man’s rants and ravings revealed just how borderline his sanity actually is. How is it that the artist behind some of the all time best hip hop tracks could fail so hard at delivery? Get this man to a Toastmaster’s session! His nonsensical and disconnected logic rendered what could have been a somewhat constructive conversation on social policy a veritable crazy train derailment.

For his production genius and outspoken candor, we’ll always have a special place in our heart for Kanye. But from time to time even the best of us, and certainly the Yeeziest, need to take a little time off. So Mr. West, how about sitting 2019 out for a little bit, champ? And hey, maybe take this much needed you time to learn how to perfect one of our many Ghost recipes. Extra points if Kimmy can balance one on her bum bum.



When you become a meme on the platform you built, you know it has been a bad year. Following a major blowback from its misuse of consumer data – made famous in the Cambridge Analytica scandal – Facebook’s embattled founder was brought before the senate to help demystify the platforms approach to data privacy. And remind Senator Chuck Grassley that dial up isn’t a thing anymore. And convince other humans that he is in fact a human that drinks water just like any other human. Of course, none of those attempts worked all that well, and the current PR nightmare surrounding Facebook continues to stoke widespread consumer distrust, highlighting that maybe, just maybe, the “move fast and break things” mantra works better as a Furious franchise slogan than a company motto.

Seriously, can you think of someone you’d rather have a drink with LESS than The Berg? Then again, watching him drink a shot of Ghost would pretty fascinating. The typical Ghost reaction is one of surprise and delight (tingles set in, eyes go wide, mouth forms an “o” to commemorate that straight up deliciousness that just happened.) No, not Zuck though. Zuck would just open his mouth, gently pour a shot down to the massive alien cockroach that currently inhabits his body, and stare blankly forward without every actually having swallowed. More sugar water for this guy!

For being responsible for the biggest corporate blunder of the year, for his just garbage haircut, and for eventually enslaving the human race and claiming dominion in the name of Planet Erk91w, we think Mark’s gotta sit 2019 out.



Imagine, after busting your ass all year, you’ve finally got the time to go on a little Hawaiian vacation with the Mrs. And you need it too. Troubles in the bedroom, stress at work, you invested 90% of your savings in Bitcoin at its peak value last December like a f*cking moron and haven’t told her even though it’s pretty clear you’re gonna lose the condo…it’s been a rough year!

But that’s behind you now, because you’re in beautiful, calm, sea-locked Hawaii, with a spicy margarita steady in your grip, and NOTHING is gonna get in the way of those sweet island vibes.

That is until an alert comes crashing onto your iPhone screen like a DM from hell warning you a BALLISTIC MISSILE is heading your way, demanding you seek immediate shelter, and no Paul, this is not a drill! Next thing you know you’re trying to remember what protocol to follow, randomly drawing inspiration from 3rd grade and ducking under random desks, or trying to catch an Uber but now the surge pricing is up like 20,000% or something because mass annihilation is imminent. And now you’re running as fast as you can down the street trying to find a building that’s seems like it can probably withstand Armageddon because it just has that look. You’re severely outpacing your wife, who is trying to get your attention but you’re ignoring her because you’re focused on one thing and that’s saving your own ass. She screams out “I want a divorce!” as you throw yourself off a bridge and dive into the Coy pond just seconds before you know the attack will hit. Then you get another update on your phone that says it actually was an error and have a nice day. Oooooh, rough one Paul.

The Hawaiian government later apologized for this little snafu, explaining it was “a mistake made during a standard procedure at the changeover of a shift and an employee pushed the wrong button”. That’s right folks; a wrong button. Some dingleberry working for the Hawaii emergency agency opened up a drop-down menu during a test, looked at the options of “Hawaii missile” and “Hawaii missile test” and chose the former. Wait, I’m sorry, the margin of error this government agency was operating on was the hundred pixels between two icons? Not even an “are you sure” courtesy tap before spraying missile warnings all over everyone’s phones? Get your sh*t together Hawaii!

So, for whoever that dude was pushed the wrong button and caused widespread panic, existential dread and fear of push-notifications forevermore, we say take a break from 2019 until you can work out those digital (wink wink) flaws out.  



Some brand extensions just make sense. Dr. Pepper marinade. Snooky’s self-tanning lotion. Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul Pet Food. But when Elon Musk, pioneer of game-changing technologies including PayPal, SpaceX, Hyperloop and The Boring Co. decided to trademark “Teslaquila” based on his electric and solar vehicle behemoth, we drew the line. Not only are we dealing with enough competition (“Damn your smile Clooney!!!”), but the proposition itself is just inherently confusing. Well, thanks to Mexico’s lovely and incredibly hardassed tequila regulatory council, making a tequila is probably less realistic for Musk than designing the one thing this world needs most right now – the perfect porn slash video game hybrid.

Tequila is named after a region in Mexico and must be made in the Mexican states of Guanajuato, Jalisco, Michoacan, Nayarit or Tamaulipas, among numerous other restrictions. Anything else can’t use the tequila name. Though “Teslaquila” is a play on the name, the regulatory body says it’s too damn close. No Bueno, Elono.

If this all seems like a joke, that’s because it probably is. But perhaps the bigger joke is the brass balls Musk must have in thinking he can actually make this brand pop. Creating a tequila brand that manages to build a solid following is inherently 1,000,000,000, nay infinitely, more complicated than any project Musk has ever or will ever work on. We’d elaborate, but honestly, it’d just hurt your head, so don’t ask and just trust us when we say that the people here at Ghost are straight geniuses and innovating at the speed of light, love and everything in between. Leave the tough work to the big boys, Elon.



People love to root for the odd couple whose staying power seems to defy all odds. Ariana, the power pop walking mannequin with the lungpower of Michael Phelps. Pete, the grungy, loveable and often hilariously offensive young comic from SNL. She, his muse. He, her bipedal pug. Their abrupt engagement, made just mere weeks after announcing splits from their longtime partners, shocked a nation whose younger citizens’ idea of commitment is deciding to invest an afternoon in watching Season Three of The Office for the 78th time.

There are some really interesting philosophies that have been spun out of observing these two (most recently from The Washington Post) that aim to use their sudden rise and fall as a couple (and the collateral damage that ensued) to demonstrate the major cultural inflection points that defined The Year 2018. Topics like the stigmatization of mental health (re: Davidson), the opioid epidemic (in the case of Mac Miller’s death), the persistence of cyber-bullying (in the case of Grande’s Arianators accosting Davidson repeatedly during the course of the relationship), etc. – these are all unsettling realities of the time we live in that all happened to be reflected in the trajectory of one star couple. These problems aren’t ones a single person can be blamed for and need a collective of well-intentioned individuals and policy changes to fix. People will need to step in 2019 to make this happen.

But who we really, really don’t need in 2019 is anyone who believed that these two were ever going to make it as a couple. Everyone knows it takes at least 3 months of living together for a modern couple to begin to understand if they’re going to work out. Three precious months is what it takes for bad habits to be exposed, body hair to be found on toilet seats, accidental flatulence to be heard over and over and over again. Three months to discover just how many spicy margaritas the other person qualifies as “a couple”, judge each other’s favorite Netflix shows as truly awful, and discover secret naked pictures from ex’s past found under “personal” in one’s computer. This, and only this, is the basis for deep, everlasting and bulletproof love.

For this incredible lack of judgement and experience, these “Grandavidson” believers need to sit 2019 out and carefully observe the grandparents on Everybody Loves Ray reruns to remind themselves what a truly committed and time-tested relationship looks like.

We should all be so lucky as those goddamn geezers.