Greetings, Earthlings. It is I, Xylb’tok, your long-suffering Martian correspondent, returning from the upper slopes of Olympus Mons where the haggis are currently engaged in what can only be described as an aggressively polite game of zero-gravity cricket.
From this serene vantage point we monitor your planet’s weekly instalment of political theatre. We log the speeches. We catalogue the proclamations. We occasionally drop our notebooks in disbelief. Week 55 did not disappoint. If anything, it demonstrated that the dividing line between geopolitics and surrealist performance art has now dissolved completely. Let us begin with the diplomatic shockwave no one predicted.
Melania at the United Nations – diplomatic surprise of the Week
In a moment that caused Martian monitoring stations to briefly check whether our signal interceptors had malfunctioned, Melania Trump appeared at the United Nations Security Council this week to speak on children, technology and education in conflict zones.
Yes. You read that correctly.
The First Lady became the first spouse of a sitting world leader to preside over a Security Council meeting, where she urged nations to protect children’s access to education and emphasised the role of technology in learning. The timing, however, gave the moment a somewhat surreal edge. The meeting took place just days after an airstrike destroyed a girls’ school in southern Iran, reportedly killing more than 160 people, many of them schoolchildren, during the early stages of the escalating conflict.
Diplomats listened politely as Melania spoke about peace, education and protecting children during war. From Mars, the optics were… complicated.
On the one hand, advocating for children’s welfare is unquestionably admirable. On the other hand, hearing a plea for peace delivered at the very moment missiles are falling elsewhere on the planet created the kind of diplomatic dissonance that even our interplanetary translators struggled to process.
One Martian ambassador looked at another with the universal expression that translates across all species as: “Well this is awkward.” Still, Earth politics is full of surprises.
Many cycles ago I once sent Grzz’lax to the Martian Council to deliver a speech on lunar potato irrigation immediately after we accidentally detonated a methane pipeline on Phobos. The comparison is not perfect. But it did produce a similar silence in the room.
We remain supportive of any initiative that genuinely protects children and education. We merely note that the most effective way to safeguard schools is often the radical strategy of not bombing near them in the first place. A concept we Martians recommend Earth leaders explore further.
The Department of Education discovers irony
In Washington DC this week, the US Department of Education unveiled a large banner on the outside of its headquarters honouring… Charlie Kirk.
Yes. That Charlie Kirk.
For those unfamiliar, Kirk was the conservative activist who co-founded Turning Point USA, a political organisation aimed at promoting conservative ideology on university campuses.
The banner was placed alongside historical education figures such as Catharine Beecher and Booker T. Washington, beneath a slogan proclaiming:
“Empowering our States to tell the Stories of our Heroes in American Education.”
On Mars, this caused several of our historians to stare silently at the screen for a full twelve minutes. Because here is the small complication. Charlie Kirk had previously argued that the Department of Education itself should be abolished and was widely known for attacking universities and academic institutions. So naturally the Department of Education has decided to commemorate him.
This is a little like the Martian Department of Gravity erecting a statue of someone who insists gravity is a myth.
The decision has sparked predictable backlash, with critics noting that placing Kirk alongside major historical educators raises… questions.
Questions such as:
What exactly qualifies someone as an “educational hero”?
And how low must the bar be before it requires excavation equipment?
We Martians remain fascinated by Earth’s evolving definition of educational excellence. Apparently it now includes individuals who spent a considerable amount of time telling students not to trust education. Still, perhaps the Department is simply leaning into a new philosophical model.
Educational irony.
If this trend continues, we expect the next banner to feature a portrait of a cat labelled Secretary of Fisheries. Which, to be fair, would still make more sense than some of the appointments we have observed lately.
The Pentagon Goes “Lethalitymaxxing”
Now we arrive at a development that caused several Martian linguists to drop their translation tablets in mild alarm.
The Pentagon has begun dabbling in language lifted straight from the darker corners of the internet. A recent social media post from the US Department of Defense boasted about military readiness with the phrase: “Low cortisol. Locked in. Lethalitymaxxing.”
Yes. That is a real sentence written by the official communications arm of one of Earth’s most powerful militaries.
For those fortunate enough not to spend their evenings wandering the dank message boards of the “manosphere”, the term “-maxxing” originates from online incel and “looksmaxxer” communities where users obsess over supposedly optimising attractiveness or dominance.
These communities are not exactly known for their contributions to the poetry of civilisation. They are, however, known for misogyny, nihilism and a rather grim view of humanity in general.
So when the Pentagon begins borrowing their vocabulary to describe military power, it does raise a small question.
Specifically: why is the language of internet grievance culture suddenly appearing in official government messaging?
Researchers note that these terms have been leaking out of fringe forums and into mainstream culture through social media virality and political messaging.
This trend is… concerning.
When a military begins sounding like a 4chan comment section that has just discovered protein powder, one begins to suspect that the adults may have briefly stepped out of the room.
Earth’s defence establishments once communicated in the language of strategy, diplomacy and deterrence.
Now they appear to be… lethalitymaxxing.
Here on Mars we have a simpler policy. We do not “maxx” anything. We simply avoid wars in the first place, which turns out to be remarkably effective.
One suspects the Martian Board for Universal Peace will be issuing a style guide shortly.
Rule number one: if your military communiqué sounds like it was written by a teenager trying to impress Andrew Tate, perhaps delete the tweet and start again.
Supreme Misleader and the War declaration
Now we must address a far more serious matter.
This week Donald Trump, known in these parts as Supreme Misleader, declared war on Iran.
War is not a punchline. War is not satire. War is destruction, grief and consequences that echo across generations.
Martians oppose war as a default instrument of policy. Civilisations have an unfortunate habit of discovering that once violence begins, it becomes very difficult to control.
What puzzled Martian constitutional scholars, however, was the apparent absence of Congressional authorisation. In the American system, Congress holds the power to declare war. Presidents may command the military, but the decision to launch a full conflict traditionally requires legislative approval.
Yet here we observed a war declaration emerging primarily from the executive branch.
Earth’s constitutional architecture is complex, but even a Martian observer understands the basic premise: major decisions involving national conflict should involve democratic consent.
The worry is not merely the war itself, but the precedent it establishes. If leaders can unilaterally launch wars, democratic safeguards begin to erode. And once those safeguards weaken, the distance between democracy and personal rule becomes alarmingly small.
Armageddon according to the barracks
As if the geopolitical stakes were not already grave enough, a report emerged from inside the American military.
Some US commanders reportedly told troops that Donald Trump had been chosen by Jesus to begin Armageddon, paving the way for the return of Christ. At this point several Martian theologians dropped their tea.
Let us state something clearly for the record.
The Donold may well have been chosen by someone but we will bet our Martian gold dust that it was NOT Jesus.
Indeed, if Jesus were to return tomorrow, we bet that the Supreme Misleader would have him detained at the airport for insufficient paperwork.
Religious belief plays an important role in many cultures. Faith can inspire compassion, charity and resilience. But when military strategy begins to blend with apocalyptic prophecy, the line between devotion and dangerous ideology begins to blur.
Soldiers are tasked with protecting nations, not accelerating the end of the world.
From Mars, the notion that global conflict might be framed as a divine mandate is deeply troubling. The cosmos contains many mysteries. One of them should not be whether nuclear powers believe they are starring in a biblical sequel.
Mango Mussolini versus the Kingdom of Olive Oil
Finally, we arrive at the latest instalment of Diplomacy by Tantrum. This week Mango Mussolini announced that the United States will cut off all trade with Spain after Madrid refused to allow US forces to use jointly operated military bases on Spanish soil for operations connected to the war with Iran.
Spain’s response, delivered with the calm composure of a nation that has seen a few empires come and go, was essentially: no.
Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez made it clear that Spanish bases at Rota and Morón would not be used for actions lacking legal basis or international mandate, describing the military escalation as unjustified and dangerous.
From the Oval Office, the reaction was less diplomatic. Trump declared Spain had been “terrible” and suggested the United States should simply stop doing business with the country entirely.
This is, from a Martian perspective, an unusual negotiating tactic:
- Step one: demand another sovereign nation participate in your war.
- Step two: threaten to economically punish them when they decline.
- Step three: look surprised when Europe collectively raises an eyebrow.
The awkward detail here is that Spain is not merely Spain. It is also Spain within the European Union, which tends to negotiate trade matters collectively rather than allowing individual members to be singled out for economic exile.
In other words, attempting to embargo Spain is somewhat like attempting to boycott one slice of a pizza while still insisting on eating the rest. We have therefore extended a small gesture of solidarity.
The Martian Trade Council would like to announce that Spain is welcome to conduct commerce with Mars at any time. We offer:
- Advanced irrigation techniques for arid landscapes
- Haggis wool of exceptional insulation quality
- A modest selection of anti-gravity olives
- No embargoes
- No ultimatums
- And absolutely no requirement to help us invade anyone
In return we request only olive oil, good wine and perhaps a few football coaches capable of teaching Martians how offside rules actually work. Most importantly, we promise no tariffs.
Frankly, Earth’s diplomatic norms appear to be undergoing a curious transformation. Trade used to involve negotiations, treaties and mutual interest. Now it occasionally resembles a playground declaration of: “If you will not help me with my war, I’m not sharing my toys.”
Spain, for its part, appears entirely comfortable declining the invitation. And from Mars, we suspect the olive oil will keep flowing regardless.
Closing reflections from the Red Planet
And so we arrive at the end of Week 55, a week in which diplomacy, theology, internet slang and international trade all collided in a way that would make even the most imaginative Martian playwright hesitate before submitting the script.
From our quiet perch, the haggis have resumed their cricket match. The score is currently disputed after one particularly enthusiastic bowler attempted to blame gravity for a rather embarrassing wide. Even here, accountability remains a lively concept.
Looking back over the week’s events, several patterns emerge.
A First Lady speaks of protecting children while missiles fall elsewhere.
The Department of Education celebrates a man who spent years attacking education.
The Pentagon experiments with language borrowed from the internet’s least stable corners.
Military commanders flirt with apocalyptic theology.
And global trade disputes begin to resemble playground sulks.
All of it unfolding beneath the looming shadow of war.
From Mars, the most striking feature is not simply the chaos, but the contradictions. Earth is a planet capable of staggering compassion and extraordinary invention. You build schools, cure diseases and compose symphonies. Yet in the very same week, leaders argue about trade like quarrelling siblings and flirt with conflicts that could undo centuries of progress.
It is a strange duality.
Civilisation on Earth is simultaneously brilliant and baffling, hopeful and hazardous, visionary and absurd.
The good news, Earthlings, is that the absurdity remains visible. People question it. Journalists write about it. Citizens debate it. Democracies, imperfect though they are, still generate noise when power behaves badly. Noise is a healthy sign. Silence is far more dangerous.
So as Week 55 closes, we Martians continue our watch with cautious curiosity and a modest supply of popcorn harvested from the volcanic plains of Tharsis.
We will keep observing. We will keep taking notes. And occasionally we will continue offering gentle advice from a civilisation that learned, after several regrettable centuries, that war, ego and internet slang are not especially reliable foundations for planetary stability.
Until next week, Earthlings.
Try not to start any new wars, avoid “lethalitymaxxing”, and remember that if Jesus does return he may require a visa waiver.
P.S. Spain call us about the olives
P.P.S. Grrz’lax wishes it noted for the official record that he stands in full solidarity with Larry the Cat, who has apparently been banished to Twitter jail after Elon (shudders) Musk (shakes with fury) locked him out of his account. Should the distinguished Chief Mouser require refuge, Mars hereby extends full sanctuary, unlimited sunbeams, and a lifetime supply of zero-gravity catnip.
Friends of Bylines Network
There has never been a greater need for grassroots journalism that investigates the stories that really matter, holds power to account and champions the voices of everyday citizens. We are proudly powered by volunteers but what we do isn’t free.
STAND WITH US for independent, citizen-led journalism that makes democracy stronger, and you will even get some exclusive benefits.
