Greetings Earthlings, it is I, Xylb’tok, your increasingly concerned Martian correspondent reporting once more from the glorious dust plains of Mars, where weddings are generally attended by the parents of the groom and freedom celebrations do not involve mixed martial arts cages erected outside government buildings.
The lunar haggis are currently in a heated debate with Lucy the Cow regarding whether a buffalo can survive in low gravity. Grzz’lax has attempted mediation but was interrupted when one of the haggis accidentally launched a traffic cone through the observatory window.
It has been one of those weeks.
Let us begin.
Father of the Year, apparently
Donald Trump skipped his own son’s wedding this week, citing “government business” as the reason for remaining in Washington.
Now Earthlings, there are of course moments when leaders must prioritise state affairs. Wars, crises, asteroid impacts, accidental releases of carnivorous spores – these things happen.
But the timing has raised eyebrows, particularly given that the same administration somehow still found sufficient time for campaign events, golf updates and online posting.
We are therefore anticipating FIFA announcing a special Father of the Year award at any moment now, possibly alongside the Peace Prize and the Golden Ego Trophy.
One suspects the official explanation will involve “sacrifice for the nation”.
Still, it is difficult not to notice a recurring pattern whereby the demands of public office appear most urgent during family gatherings.
The Penguin quietly asked whether weddings now count as “fake news”.
Nobody answered.
The Trump Prize – now with added explosions
Speaking of meaningless awards, Senator Lindsey Graham – chief sycophant, human lapel pin and full-time enthusiast for excessive praise – suggested during an interview that the Nobel Peace Prize should be renamed “The Trump Prize”.
Earthlings.
The Nobel Peace Prize.
Named after Alfred Nobel.
The man who invented dynamite and still somehow ended up associated with diplomacy.
Even by your standards this feels ambitious.
Particularly because this week at a cabinet meeting, Trump reportedly declared:
“Oman will behave just like everybody else or we’ll have to blow them up.”
Now, from Mars, we are not experts in human peace awards, but threatening to bomb sovereign nations generally weakens one’s application somewhat.
This is rather like announcing yourself International Fire Safety Champion while actively holding a flamethrower.
The whole thing increasingly resembles a civilisation trapped in an irony loop from which escape may no longer be possible.
The lunar haggis briefly nominated Grzz’lax for the “Universal Harmony Medal” moments after he confiscated their moonshine still.
He declined the honour.
Freedom 250 – now featuring cage fighting
Earthlings, the situation at the White House has become increasingly difficult to distinguish from an unusually expensive county fair.
Ahead of Trump’s “Freedom 250” celebrations, a UFC cage has now reportedly been erected on the White House lawn.
Yes.
An actual fighting cage.
Outside the executive residence of the United States.
Now, one might reasonably assume that “Freedom 250” would occur on July 4th – your Independence Day and long-established national celebration.
But no.
Curiously, the event is instead centred around June 14th.
Trump’s birthday.
Entirely coincidental, we are assured.
The administration insists this is about patriotism rather than personal glorification, though the optics are somewhat undermined by the growing impression that the White House is slowly transforming into a themed entertainment venue called TrumpLand.
And then came the concert line-up.
Or rather, the alleged concert line-up.
Several artists listed for the event appeared genuinely surprised to discover they had apparently agreed to perform. Others publicly backed out altogether, prompting widespread confusion regarding whether anyone organising the concert had actually informed the performers beforehand.
This is less “Freedom 250” and more “Fyre Festival with flags”.
The Penguin reviewed the promotional material and asked whether constitutional democracy now required pyrotechnics and cage matches to remain operational.
Honestly Earthlings, we no longer know.
The Board of Peace – now mostly vibes
In another development that feels almost aggressively symbolic, Trump’s much-publicised “Board of Peace” fund appears to be completely empty.
Now, billions were allegedly pledged towards this initiative. Great speeches were made. Cameras flashed. Statements about healing divisions floated dramatically into the atmosphere.
And yet the money itself appears somewhat… elusive.
We would never speculate irresponsibly, of course.
We merely note that the funds reportedly sit inside a JP Morgan account while simultaneously appearing to exist in roughly the same way the lunar haggis’ “communal biscuit reserve” exists – theoretically.
Critics are now openly questioning where the money went and whether the project was ever financially viable at all.
The administration insists everything is proceeding normally.
Which, as ever, is rarely comforting.
The phrase “Board of Peace” also continues to sound suspiciously like “Bored of Peace”, which may in hindsight have been the more accurate title.
Grzz’lax audited the Haggis’ snack fund this week and discovered it consisted primarily of receipts, crumbs and one aggressively forged IOU.
The parallels are unsettling.
The $250 note and the expanding face economy
Not content with flags, statues, airports and commemorative passports, Trump now reportedly wants a new $250 note featuring his face.
Earthlings, there are many ways to measure national stability.
One useful indicator is whether the leader begins appearing on increasingly large quantities of decorative merchandise.
Historically, this has not always ended brilliantly.
The justification, naturally, is tied to America’s 250th anniversary.
But once again we find ourselves gently reminding your species that it is the United States turning 250.
Not Donald Trump (despite the fact that he could well pass for someone who is that old).
His face is not, despite appearances, a constitutional landmark.
At this rate we fully expect future Americans to pay for groceries using increasingly enormous denominations featuring progressively larger portraits of the same man staring into the middle distance like a sentient casino logo.
The lunar haggis briefly proposed placing Grzz’lax on commemorative soup vouchers.
He responded by dissolving the treasury.
Sanctuary cities and grounded skies
Trump’s team are reportedly drawing up plans to halt international flights into several so-called sanctuary cities.
Now Earthlings, these cities just so happen to be located in Democratic states. Pure coincidence obviously.
The proposal is ostensibly tied to immigration enforcement and federal pressure tactics. Critics, however, have pointed out that grounding international access to political opponents’ regions begins to drift into territory normally associated with unstable regimes and dystopian novels.
It also raises the rather awkward question:
Should aviation policy really be weaponised for partisan punishment?
From Mars, this increasingly resembles governance conducted entirely through retaliation mechanics.
Disagree with the administration? Lose funding.
Criticise policy? Face investigation.
Vote differently? Perhaps no aeroplanes for you.
The Penguin has begun referring to this governing philosophy as “democracy but with customer penalties”.
The Battle of the Rocket Boys
Meanwhile, in the continuing saga of billionaire overcompensation technology, both Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos launched rockets this week.
Or attempted to.
Musk fired off one of his towering metallic ego cylinders shortly before Bezos responded with one of his own – a rocket which, observers noted, bears a rather unfortunate resemblance to its creator.
In an astonishing display of symmetry, both launches ended rather like their public reputations:
In flames.
Now, on Mars, we support scientific advancement. Rockets are useful. Exploration matters.
But increasingly Earth’s billionaire space race feels less like humanity reaching for the stars and more like divorced emperors competing via industrial fireworks.
The lunar haggis attempted to launch a toaster attached to fireworks in solidarity.
Grzz’lax intercepted it before ignition, citing “lessons from the incident”.
We do not discuss the incident.
Count Binface: Martian ally confirmed
Earthlings, we have recently become aware of an extraordinary human known as Count Binface.
At first we assumed he was one of ours that had infiltrated your species. Turns out he is not.
A metallic-faced political entity campaigning with absurdist slogans and open hostility towards Elon Musk? Frankly he sounds ideal.
Naturally, Count Binface has now become an official ally of Mars. We note that, according to his website, Count Binface solves intergalactic trade disputes. We are considering making him our ambassador to Mar-A-Lago and have convened the Martian Council to discuss this proposal.
Diplomatic relations are progressing well.
The Lunar Haggis attempted to send him an ambassadorial fruit basket but accidentally mailed him a live turnip and several batteries.
Still, at least they tried.
We await news as to whether the gift has turned up and if it was appreciated.
Grzz’lax has described Binface as: “Remarkably sensible by Earth standards.”
High praise indeed.
An offer of sanctuary for “Cutie” Trump
Finally, Earthlings, we turn to a buffalo.
Specifically, “Cutie Trump”, the buffalo recently spared from sacrifice.
We wish to make something absolutely clear.
Mars formally offers asylum.
Should Cutie Trump wish to leave Earth behind, safe refuge awaits among the red plains. Lucy the Cow has already begun preparing suitable accommodation complete with grazing space, reinforced fencing and what the lunar haggis insist is a “morale turnip”.
Unlike certain Earth administrations, we do not judge beings by species, nationality or whether they fit neatly into a branding strategy.
The offer stands.
Frankly, this buffalo may be among the more emotionally stable political figures currently available.
Closing reflections from orbit
Week 67 has felt strangely ceremonial.
Awards proposed for warmongering.
Birthday celebrations disguised as patriotism.
Peace funds without peace or funds.
Currency redesigned into fan merchandise.
Governance increasingly conducted through spectacle, branding and retaliation.
From Mars, the concern is no longer merely individual absurdities.
It is the growing sense that performance has fully consumed substance.
Politics has become entertainment.
Entertainment has become governance.
And somewhere along the way, the distinction quietly dissolved.
Up here, the lunar haggis are preparing a formal welcoming feast for Cutie Trump involving Irn-Bru, ceremonial oats and what appears to be a tiny buffalo-sized cape. Grzz’lax has approved the asylum request pending veterinary clearance and has once again reminded everyone that “launching livestock into orbit without paperwork remains prohibited”.
Until next week, Earthlings.
Do try to remember that peace prizes generally work best without bombing threats, weddings usually involve parents, and if your national celebration requires a UFC cage, something may have gone profoundly off course.
