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Who Are We, Really?

We’re asked this question a lot — usually by concerned readers, confused officials, or people wondering if they’ve just read a real article about raccoons disrupting city council.

So here it is. The truth. Kind of.

🗺️ Where We’re From

The Stark County Sentinel was founded in Stark County, North Dakota — a place where the weather changes faster than election loyalties and where the cows outnumber broadband providers. We're proudly local in spirit, unreliable in practice, and deeply committed to serving this community by… not taking anything too seriously.

We believe North Dakota deserves satire just as much as New York or L.A. Maybe more. Because let’s be honest — it’s funnier here.

 

🧠 What We Actually Do

We write fake news — but the good kind. Not the kind your uncle yells about at Thanksgiving.
Our stories are fictional, exaggerated, and thoroughly unverified on purpose. We’re here to hold up a cracked mirror to local life, national news, and whatever else makes us sigh-laugh into our coffee mugs.

We cover:

  •     Local events that probably didn’t happen (but could have)

  •     Government dysfunction with a strong rural twist

  •     Culture, politics, and wildlife with editorial bias toward chaos

  •     Made-up quotes, questionable headlines, and sometimes geese


We do not cover sports unless something went terribly wrong.

🎯 Why We Exist

There’s already plenty of serious news. There’s already too much misinformation. But what’s missing is intentional nonsense — satire that shines a flashlight on real issues by pretending to trip over them in the dark.

We founded The Sentinel because:

 

  1.     Stark County deserves its own satire outlet

  2.     Journalism is expensive and we’re too broke for real reporting

  3.     Sometimes the truth just isn’t funny enough


Our goal isn’t to mislead. It’s to make you laugh, think, squint, and say, “Wait… did that actually happen?”

👥 Who’s Behind This?

A small, dedicated team of:

  •     Writers with no journalism degrees or impressive imaginations

  •     Editors with a high tolerance for nonsense

  •     Volunteers who think the phrase “citizen journalism” includes sarcasm

  •     And occasionally, someone’s uncle who insists we print his poem about corn


We don’t have a physical office. We operate from laptops, kitchens, barns, and that one booth at the Dakota Diner where the Wi-Fi is just strong enough.

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