horror

Meta Just Pulled a Walter Peck On All Of Us—Who You Gonna Call? Apparently, Not Us.

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If you see this logo on our social media page, Chances you’re on Facebook. This is not our official logo, it is our official “Facebook only” logo

Folks, we’ve seen a lot of weird things in our time—full-torso vaporous apparitions, Ecto Cooler being discontinued (a crime against humanity), and a slime-covered Statue of Liberty walking across the NY Harbor from Liberty Island. But nothing could prepare us for the latest supernatural menace to haunt our existence: the Meta Corporation, specifically…… Facebook.

That’s right, the same company that keeps your Aunt Linda’s Minion memes alive has now turned its bureaucratic Particle Thrower on Ghostbusters of (insert your state or local town name here). Apparently, our playful, clearly-not-infringing, totally-its-own-thing ghost logos have triggered their PKE meter for “impersonation.”

Impersonation of what, you ask? The Ghostbusters? Nah, we’re not those guys. We don’t even own a single firehouse, and our Ectos aren’t even “the real car.” They are just a clapped-out bike, a weird-looking cop car, a rusting Jeep, and a Dodge with a really weird stain in the back seat. And yet, the Meta Menace came knocking, and faster than you can say “I looked at the trap, Ray,” they zap franchise pages from existence.

Who Sent Them? We Have Our Suspicions.

We’d like to think it’s an innocent mistake, but let’s be honest—Meta is the Walter Peck of the internet. Just like the EPA’s favorite mustached antagonist, they’ve rolled in with a clipboard full of vague policies and started shutting down containment units without understanding how things work.

Do we explain that we’re not actually the Ghostbusters? Yes.

Do they care? Nope.

Do they metaphorically shut down digital Containment Grids and let the spirits of dead Facebook pages roam free? Absolutely.

And if history has taught us anything, this will end with a giant Stay Puft Zuckerberg trampling through our notifications.

A Pattern of Corporate Ecto-Containment

We’re not paranoid (yet) as out close friends in other Ghostbusters-adjacent groups have gotten slimed by this nonsense. Across the internet, fan franchises—dedicated groups of paranormal enthusiasts who just want to wear flight suits and wield foam proton packs—have been getting hit with similar bans. Meta’s crackdown on our beloved Mooglie ghost logo has spread like a Class 5 full-roaming vapor through the digital landscape, and it’s getting ridiculous.

Look, we get it. Copyright is important. We wouldn’t want anyone impersonating us, either. But let’s be real: We are literally NOT the Ghostbusters of New Jersey.

If Meta had actually taken five seconds to scan us with their metaphorical PKE meter, they’d see our pages are nothing more than a fun-loving bunch of spectral enthusiasts trying to make people laugh while pretending to bust ghosts. But nooo, they had to go full Peck on us.

So What Now?

Well, for starters, we can fight back. Maybe we’ll appeal to the Meta Tribunal, where an algorithm will pretend to listen before sending us a canned response. Or maybe we’ll just embrace our new role as the Internet’s official Spirit of Bureaucratic Vengeance. Either way, we’re not going anywhere.

In the meantime, if you’ve got a ghost problem in New Jersey, don’t call us—because Meta won’t let you. Instead, just light a few candles, put on some Ray Parker Jr., and hope for the best. Or, you know, just send us an email at gbnjoutreach@gmail.com.

Remember: We ain’t afraid of no ghosts. But we are afraid of social media corporations that don’t understand satire.

Stay spooky, New Jersey.

Bustin’ Makes ‘Em Hungry: Ghostbusters Handle a Bovinae Apparition at Texas Roadhouse

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It was supposed to be a simple night out. After a long day of paranormal activities at a local college, The Ghostbusters of NJ decided to unwind with a hearty meal at Texas Roadhouse in Hamilton, NJ. Because nothing says “job well done” quite like a basket of warm rolls and a well-earned steak.

The local ghostbusters enjoy their meal
Left front to back : Sam, [REDACTED], Ian.
Right front to back: Scoopy, Myke, Bill.

But fate (or something far spookier) had other plans.

Just as they were settling in, happily debating the finer points of ectoplasmic residue over a basket of cinnamon butter-laden carbs, management approached the table with an urgent request. It seemed the restaurant had been experiencing some… unusual disturbances. Staff reported flickering lights, an overwhelming scent of hay, and the unnerving sound of distant mooing. Guests swore they saw shadowy horns drifting through the kitchen, and the cooks were refusing to enter the freezer alone.

The culprit? A full-blown Class 6 bovinae apparition.

Given that the Ghostbusters were already on-site (and conveniently in arm’s reach of a pitcher of sweet tea), the decision was made to handle the situation then and there. They retrieved their gear from the parking lot, much to the delight of the surrounding diners, and got to work.

Specators evacuate the local steakhouse franchise as the local ghostbuster gear up for battle.

The entity—a spectral longhorn with a penchant for spooking servers and knocking over condiment trays—put up a bit of a fight. It phased in and out of visibility, causing a brief moment of chaos when it stampeded directly through the peanut barrel. But the team, ever the professionals, managed to wrangle the ghostly beast into a containment unit with minimal damage (if you don’t count the overturned basket of fries).

With the disturbance handled and the restaurant finally at peace, one might assume that the Ghostbusters were rewarded for their bravery with a complimentary meal, or at least a discounted appetizer. Alas, in a final twist of injustice, the team received no compensation for their trouble—and were, in fact, required to pay for their own dinner in full.

“Who ya gonna call?” Apparently, someone with a better dining rewards program.