Greetings, Earthlings. It is I, Xylb’tok, your ever-observant Martian correspondent, reporting once more from the lofty, dust-swirled heights of Olympus Mons. The Lunar Haggis are currently engaged in what they insist is a “branding exercise”, which appears to involve stamping their names on various objects and then arguing about ownership. One has successfully labelled a rock “Supreme Haggis Prime”, which, we note, is still less ambitious than events unfolding on your planet.
Week 59 has been, above all, a week of names. Names on money, names on buildings, names on geography and, in at least one case, names attached to objects that may or may not exist in reality. Let us begin, as ever, with the man who appears determined to ensure that nothing on Earth remains unbranded.
Signed, sealed, delivered (whether you like it or not)
This week, Donald Trump – Agent Orange, The Tangerine Tyrant, and Chief Executive of Personal Branding – announced that his signature will begin appearing on US currency, ending a tradition that has remained unchanged for 165 years.
We paused to appreciate the scale of this.
Currency, Earthlings, is typically designed to be stable, trusted, and free from… personal flourishes. It represents institutions, continuity and collective agreement. It is not, traditionally, a guestbook. And yet, here we are.
From Mars, this appears less like monetary policy and more like autograph distribution at scale. One imagines future transactions proceeding as follows:
“Here is your change.”
“Oh, lovely, it’s signed.”
We would gently suggest that, should you receive such currency, you take a leaf from the Overlord’s’s own playbook. Acquire a Sharpie – more on that shortly – black out the name, and return it. After all, he has always shown a particular fondness for redaction.
The Sharpie summit
Speaking of Sharpies. In a moment that will no doubt be studied by historians, linguists and possibly veterinarians, Agent Orange spent approximately five minutes delivering an impassioned and largely incoherent monologue about Sharpie pens during a cabinet meeting. We must emphasise: five minutes. On pens.
The manufacturer in question has, somewhat awkwardly, refuted the claims made during this performance, suggesting that the relationship between reality and description may once again have drifted apart.
We Martians are fascinated by this phenomenon. Objects appear to acquire properties simply by being discussed at length. Pens become strategic tools. Markers become instruments of authority. Lines on maps… well, we have seen where that leads.
One of the Lunar Haggis attempted a similar speech about spoons. It was removed from the room.
The ballroom that wasn’t (for now)
Elsewhere, a judge has stepped in to block Mango Mussolini’s White House ballroom project. A note of order, this is the Liberace feverdream overcompensation extension that he apparently needs to spend $400mn on that he bulldozed the once standing East Wing for.
We note a pattern emerging. Proposal. Destruction. Intervention. Inevitable meltdown.
The judiciary, those persistent referees of Earth’s political theatre, have once again applied what they insist on calling “rules”. The result: a temporary halt.
From Mars, we awaited the response with interest, though experience suggested it would involve volume, repetition, and a creative reinterpretation of events. We were not disappointed. El Taco had what can only be described as a temper tantrum, something which is becoming increasingly common and unhinged.
I wonder whether someone may need to remind him that it is the People’s House not his own personal sandbox he can knock bits down of anytime he feels like it. He is a mere custodian and judging from his recent behaviour not for long.
The Lunar Haggis have already begun rehearsing a dramatic reading titled “The Meltdown”. Early reviews are promising. Unlike the reviews of Melania.
Airport naming rights: now available
Not to be outdone in the field of commemorative enthusiasm, Ron DeSantis signed a bill to rename Palm Beach International Airport as President Donald J. Trump International Airport.
Airports, as you may know, are places where people arrive and depart. They are functional. Practical. Occasionally delayed. They are not, typically, expressions of personal loyalty.
And yet, here we are.
Call us cynical, but this appears to be part of a broader trend: the conversion of public infrastructure into a kind of ongoing tribute. Names are no longer identifiers; they are endorsements. Geography itself begins to feel less like a shared resource and more like a branding opportunity. One half expects baggage carousels to be renamed next.
We can imagine the tannoy calls now: “Your luggage will arrive on Donald 3.”
There is, of course, the small matter of clarity. The more everything is named after the same individual, the greater the risk of confusion – a lesson one might recall from the now-infamous landscaping incident, where location details proved… interpretive.
One imagines future travellers consulting their itineraries not for directions, but for declarations of allegiance.
The Library of Self-Regard
Meanwhile, plans have been unveiled for Temu Narcissus’ presidential library. Now, Earthlings, a presidential library is traditionally a place of records, archives and historical reflection. A repository of documents, decisions and, occasionally, regrets.
Trump’s version appears to be… different. Gaudy doesn’t quite go far enough here.
The renderings suggest something closer to a monument. Large, imposing and unmistakably branded – rather like El Taco himself. It’s a structure that does not so much invite quiet study as announce its presence from orbit.
We Martians have categorised this under Architectural Overcompensation.
Renaming the World (how very on brand)
In a moment of what we can only describe as unhinged ambition, the Tango Tyrant reportedly floated the idea of renaming the Strait of Hormuz after himself.
We paused. We checked our maps and calendars to make sure this wasn’t some early April Fool’s thing. We confirmed that the Strait of Hormuz is, in fact, a critical global shipping route and not a decorative feature awaiting personalisation. And yet, there it was loud and proud for the whole world to see. Donny yet again trying to name something after himself that he doesn’t actually own.
I suppose one must admire the scope of the vision. Why stop at airports and buildings when entire bodies of water are available? Rather reminiscent of the whole Gulf of America thing don’t you think?
In the spirit of reciprocity, we have taken the liberty of renaming several Trump-associated landmarks:
- Mar-a-Lago is now The Gilded Tantrum Pavilion
- Trump Tower is now Truth Matters
- And Trump National Golf Club is now The Bunker of Alternate Realities
We trust this clarifies matters.
No Kings round three
Amidst the branding, renaming and Sharpie-based governance, there was a development of a more reassuringly persistent kind.
On Saturday 28 March, the humans once again gathered under the banner of “No Kings” – now the third such rally, which suggests this is no longer a moment, but a movement.
Regular readers will know we have observed – and indeed endorsed – these gatherings before. The premise remains elegantly simple: leadership is not monarchy, power is not personal property, and governance should not resemble a long-running coronation tour.
And yet, judging by this week’s events – signatures on currency, names on airports, ambitions towards renaming strategic waterways – the message clearly bears repeating.
Loudly.
We find the persistence encouraging. The humans may have a remarkable tolerance for absurdity, but they also possess an equally remarkable capacity to push back against it. The repetition is not failure; it is insistence.
We can neither confirm nor deny that we were present at what was the largest single day protest in American history nor can we confirm nor deny that we attended the Land of Hopes and Dreams Tour that kicked off in Minneapolis with “War what is it good for? Absolutely nothing say it again”. The Boss remains our hero.
Closing reflections from orbit
Week 59 has been, above all, a study in scale. Signatures on currency. Names on airports. Plans for monumental libraries. Even the suggestion of renaming strategic waterways. The pattern is clear: if it exists, it can be branded.
And yet, alongside this, there are interruptions.
Judges who say no. Companies that contradict. Protesters who gather. Reminders that, for all the noise, the system is not entirely one-directional.
Up here, the Lunar Haggis have concluded their branding exercise by labelling each other, which has led to considerable confusion and one minor incident involving a toaster. Order, of a sort, has been restored.
Until next week, Earthlings.
Do try to remember that not everything requires a signature, a label, or a name in large letters. And if you find yourself reaching for a Sharpie to redraw reality, it may be worth asking whether the line was yours to draw in the first place.
