Dr. Roastman obsession exposed

Every magazine has a secret weapon. Ours wears glasses, types like a caffeinated raccoon, and answers only to the name Dr. Roastman. This man doesn’t see people like you and me. Nope. He scans them like a broken airport security machine, looking for one thing: your obsession. Forget Gucci shoes or your net worth. He wants to know why you’ve owned seventeen pumpkin spice candles since 2014, and he’s already drafting the headline in his brain.

The funniest part is that he doesn’t even hide it. If he stares at you too long, he’s not impressed with your outfit. He’s wondering if your obsession with flavored seltzer is powerful enough to earn a certificate. He could meet Beyoncé and instantly think, “Huh, I bet she has a secret obsession with labeling Tupperware.” The man’s radar is sharper than Tom Holland spotting free snacks at a Marvel press tour.

Dr. Roastman’s obsession is exposing everyone else’s. It’s like Inception but with obsessions instead of dreams. He collects them like rare Pokémon cards, then drops them into The Roast Times with the precision of Gordon Ramsay sprinkling salt. He once compared The Rock’s sunglasses addiction to a solar eclipse you can’t escape, and honestly, NASA should have confirmed it. By now, if you’ve ever been in the same room with him, congratulations, you’re probably in his drafts folder.

So next time you see him taking notes, don’t panic. He’s not judging your haircut, your latte order, or the fact you still own a Wii. He’s just deciding if your obsession is ridiculous enough to be immortalized. And spoiler alert: it always is. This man could turn your collection of novelty spoons into headline comedy gold before you blink.

To Dr. Roastman, with love: may your obsession with exposing obsessions never run dry, because without you, this magazine would just be… times.