America, rejoice: the CDC has discovered a faster, more spiritual way to track food poisoning — stop tracking it and let destiny handle the spreadsheet. Officials unveiled the new ‘go with your gut’ initiative, which is somehow both a slogan and a symptom. Pathogens will now be monitored via the honor system, because salmonella is famously big on honesty and handshakes.

At a press conference, spokespeople described the rollback as a ‘right-sizing of reality’ and a ‘pivot to vibes-based epidemiology’. Translation: if your burrito is plotting against you, it will manifest through interpretive dance on your kitchen counter. Funding will be redirected to a pilot study on whether a shrug emoji can be peer-reviewed.

For decades, the surveillance network caught outbreaks early, like a gastroenterological Spidey-sense that kept Tuesdays from becoming Tilt-a-Whirl Thursdays. Now the net is slimmer, the holes are bigger, and the pathogens have learned to pole vault. FoodNet, meet FoodNot, featuring fewer labs and more fingers crossed behind backs.

Without robust tracking, experts say we’ll learn about outbreaks the classic way: when every group chat becomes a confessional and weather radars detect a sudden uptick in barf momentum. Emergency rooms will be rebranded as spoiler alerts for potato salad. Yelp will introduce a new rating: ‘four stars, lost three pounds.’

Industry representatives applauded the change, explaining that germs deserve privacy and space to ‘find themselves’ inside your small intestine. Restaurants pledged transparency by renaming suspicious menu items ‘Schrödinger’s Chicken’ and ‘Mystery Greens: Trust Arc.’ If questioned, the lettuce will request its lawyer and a lemon wedge.

Tech optimists insist consumers can fill the gap with devices and citizen science, also known as texting ‘is this chicken supposed to glow?’ to five friends. Smart homes will ping you whenever the fridge sighs in despair; yes, that was your yogurt writing a resignation letter. Expect push alerts sourced from your smart fridge spoilage sensor, which will bravely whisper: the coleslaw knows what it did.

Congress swiftly formed the Five-Second Rule Caucus, which promises bold reforms such as ‘oops’ and ‘I licked it, counts as sterilization.’ Budget hawks celebrated by replacing lab grants with a coupon for the sneeze guard at Golden Buffet. The Oversight Committee will conduct a site visit the traditional way: blindfolded, fork first.

Meanwhile, epidemiologists are updating their methodology to ‘ask the spaghetti.’ Contact tracing becomes contact guessing, ideally completed between waves of regret. In a gesture of austerity, microscopes will be swapped for magnifying glasses from the detective aisle, because this bacteria refuses to confess without a noir monologue.

As an evidence-first killjoy, I read the trials so you don’t have to, unless the trial is by coleslaw. Surveillance isn’t sexy, unless your type is ‘less diarrhea,’ in which case call me rational. If we stop counting, the germs do not stop attending; they simply RSVP ‘maybe’ and bring friends.

Practical guidance still applies: cook the meats, chill the things pretending to be salad, and don’t negotiate with shrimp that smells like a plot twist. Use a thermometer if you own one, ideally a digital meat thermometer with food safety alarm, not your uncle’s elbow. When in doubt, remember the FDA’s ancient proverb: if it winks, it stinks.

CDC officials defended the shift with a new motto: Trust Your Gut, which is bold considering the gut is currently the crime scene. They also announced a visualization dashboard that renders outbreaks as vibes clouds, visible only to those who have eaten gas station sushi. To validate the model, interns will attempt to high-five E. coli and record whether it feels ‘chill’.

In conclusion, fewer monitors means more mysteries, and America loves a mystery right up until the mystery loves us back from both directions. Until the lab lights come back on, I’ll keep reading studies with one hand and sterilizing cutting boards with the other. If you need me, I’ll be consulting a Ouija board that only spells ‘wash hands,’ while the shrug emoji nods solemnly and finally earns tenure.