In a bold reinterpretation of the phrase housing policy, the nation’s top housing regulator reportedly broadened its jurisdiction from lawns and loans to thoughts and tweets. If it has a roof, they regulate it, and that apparently includes your skull. Fed Governor Lisa Cook, noted economist and occasional human being, now finds her feed inspected for code violations like optimism without a permit.

The agency explained its new authority with the confidence of a contractor who swears this will only take a weekend. Homes are where people keep their ideas, a spokesperson said, so of course we can issue a citation for noncompliant mind shutters. Nothing says market stability like a clipboard in your psyche.

Trump allies applauded, calling it an important step to ensure dissent meets minimum aesthetic standards. The regulator reportedly mailed Cook an orange notice reading Remove unauthorized pro-democracy fixture within 72 hours or we’ll paint your GDP beige. Economists everywhere practiced a new defense posture: try not thinking in mixed-use zoning.

I attend earnings calls for a living, and even those don’t feature this many footnotes. The agency unveiled a Patriotism-to-Square-Foot ratio, an index that penalizes anyone whose opinions exceed lot setbacks. Critics call it the Knights Who Say NIMBY, now with subpoena power.

Inspectors arrived with high-vis vests, clipboards, and the nervous energy of a raccoon near a garage freezer. They also brought a ‘paper shredder cross-cut heavy duty’, because nothing inspires confidence like the sound of compliance turning into confetti. In a memo, they clarified that the shredder is for morale.

New guidance rates dissent like a mortgage: fixed-rate grumbling is permitted, but adjustable-rate outrage will reset at election season. Your loyalty APR could balloon if you refinance with facts. Zillow could not be reached for comment because they were busy estimating the value of a conscience.

To implement the rubric, aides skimmed a ‘adjustable-rate mortgage guidebook’ and decided truth would float at prime plus vibes. The model assigns a risk premium to eyebrows raised during press conferences. A smirk is a soft pull; a peer-reviewed paper triggers a hard inquiry and a brochure about quiet lawns.

At a press briefing, the regulator demonstrated due process by holding a hearing in a cul-de-sac with folding chairs and lemonade that tasted like noncompete clauses. Dissenters were told to bring a shrubbery and also to make it nicer. One neighbor asked if satire requires a building permit; the official replied only if it casts shade.

Markets reacted with their usual serenity: volatility spiked, and hedge funds hedged against jokes. Wall Street analysts initiated coverage on Basic Freedoms with a Hold rating and a price target of please. The VIX briefly tried to refinance itself.

Lisa Cook continued doing economics like a person who reads tables before breakfast. Asked about the controversy, she sighed the sigh of someone who knows the yield curve and the HOA both slope down. Monetary policy, she said, is not a cul-de-sac bake sale.

The agency insists this isn’t political; it’s landscaping for the soul. They posted a FAQ explaining how to file an appeal if your thoughts are condemned as teardowns. Step one: paint your conscience taupe.

In the end, enforcement teams left a door hanger that read We noticed your ideas had unpermitted skylights, but we’re willing to work with you if you install blinds and never open them. The notice came with a coupon for half off a lawn sign that says Nothing To See Here. Satisfied, the regulator drove off, blinker on for three miles, confident the nation’s brains now meet code—though the code is still in draft, and the comment period was held inside a filing cabinet labeled Adjusted.