Greetings, Earthlings. It is I, Xylb’tok, transmitting once more from the Red Planet – still delightfully lacking in golf resorts, triumphant arches and, crucially, naming disputes.
The Lunar Haggis are currently attempting to patent a microbe they found under a rock, while Grzz’lax has taken up a supervisory role, mostly consisting of pointing at things and declaring them “inefficient”. Order, such as it is, persists, which is more than I can say for your planet. Week 62 has delivered a particularly rich blend of discovery, denial and the ongoing human desire to put one man’s name on… everything.
Let us begin with science – a rare and welcome visitor.
Life on Mars (yes, we noticed)
In what your scientists are calling a “breakthrough”, evidence has emerged suggesting the presence of organic molecules on Mars – potential precursors to DNA.
Hello. We could have told you that. No seriously we’ve been up here trying to tell you that.
For a brief moment, we were concerned that one of the Lunar Haggis had been inadvertently photographed during a routine forage. There were meetings. There were accusations. Grzz’lax filed a formal complaint.
It turns out, however, that what you have actually discovered are the building blocks of life – complex organic compounds that suggest Mars may once have hosted conditions suitable for biology. This is, to be clear, genuinely significant. A step towards understanding whether life is a rare accident or a cosmic inevitability.
From our perspective, it is also mildly amusing.
You have spent decades peering at our planet through telescopes, orbiters and rovers, and have only just begun to suspect that something might be… happening. Meanwhile we have been waving at you for centuries and for the last 62 weeks I have been communicating. Directly. With you. I’m not really sure how much more obvious we could have made it.
Meanwhile, the Haggis have been arguing with microbes for weeks. And are still playing hide-n-seek with the space robot on Mars.
Still, credit where it is due. You are looking up. You are asking questions. You are, occasionally, finding answers. Do keep going. It’s almost heartwarming to observe.
The codes, and the lack thereof
Back on Earth, matters are rather less uplifting. The commander-in-Questionable-Judgement aka Agent Orange aka The Tangerine Disruptor, was allegedly blocked from accessing nuclear codes by a senior military general. The allegation was made on a podcast and spread over your MSM faster than a Martian dust storm. We couldn’t quite believe what we were hearing. If this is true though this is most definitely not a good sign.
Blocking POTUS from accessing the nuclear codes is not standard procedure.
The chain of command, as you understand it, is designed to be clear, direct and, above all, functional. To interrupt that chain suggests a level of concern that goes beyond routine disagreement. This came hot off the heels of another alleged incident where Agent Orange was locked out of his own briefing room due to fears that his temper could jeopardise the rescue of a downed American airman in Iran.
From Mars, this reads as a system engaging its emergency brakes.
It is, in its own way, reassuring. There remain individuals within your structures willing to say, “perhaps not”. But it is also deeply concerning that such moments were required in the first place.
We have an alternative idea for you, bear with us this may seem a bit radical to you so you may want to sit down. Have you perhaps thought about invoking the 25th Amendment? Or in fact here’s another thought. If locking him out of things is the better option let hin build his overcompensation extension – you know the one that resembles a Liberace fever dream and is said to have some form of nuclear bunker underneath it – then lock him in the bunker. Problem solved.
The Lunar Haggis attempted to restrict access to their own “launch codes” – a kettle and a particularly volatile spoon. The situation escalated quickly. Lessons were learned.
The ear that grew back (allegedly)
In a development that would be astonishing were it not so entirely predictable, certain MAGA-aligned figures have begun questioning whether the assassination attempt on Donald Trump – you remember, the one involving the ear that appears to have made a rather remarkable recovery – was in fact staged.
A hoax. A fabrication. A performance, apparently.
This is, we should note, the same event that was previously held up as proof of resilience, strength and near-mythic endurance. The narrative, it seems, has… evolved.
We are saying nothing. Not because there is nothing to say, but because there are moments where commentary becomes redundant. The claim exists. It circulates. It mutates. It is believed by some, dismissed by others, and amplified regardless of evidence, contradiction or basic coherence.
We have a term for this: Narrative Self-Consumption – the point at which a movement begins to question, reinterpret and ultimately destabilise its own mythology. Heroes become actors. Events become scripts. Reality becomes… optional.
The most fascinating element is not the claim itself, but the direction of travel. When even the foundational stories begin to fracture, one must ask: what remains stable?
The Lunar Haggis briefly accused one another of staging a fall during a routine scramble. This led to counter-accusations, a spontaneous tribunal, and one Haggis attempting to demonstrate authenticity by falling over repeatedly.
It proved nothing.
Grzz’lax observed the proceedings, made a note labelled “inevitable”, and declined to intervene. The Penguin, who we thought had gone on a sabbatical, shook his head disprovingly.
Justice, reinterpreted
The Department of Justice is now pressing charges against the Southern Poverty Law Center – an organisation that has spent decades identifying and exposing extremist groups, including racists and white supremacists.
This is… notable.
On Mars the SPLC has long been categorised under “people pointing at problems and saying, quite reasonably, that those problems exist”.
To see such an organisation become the target of legal action raises questions. Not small ones. Structural ones.
Who is being scrutinised? Who is being protected? And who, exactly, is being repositioned as the problem?
We do not pretend to have all the answers.
But we recognise the pattern. A slight suggestion if we may. Perhaps you may want to rethink the optics after all going after the people who expose the extremists is not the hot look you clearly think it is.
Mount Ego (formerly Kilimanjaro)
In what may be the week’s most ambitious act of geographical rebranding, Paolo Zampolli – diplomat, associate of Trump, and apparently a man with a great deal of spare time – is attempting to persuade Tanzania to rename Mount Kilimanjaro as Mount Trump.
Yes. You read that correctly.
A mountain. The highest peak in Africa. A natural landmark of global significance.
Rebranded.
We admire the audacity but not the judgement.
Zampolli, for those keeping track, is also noted for introducing Trump to Melania, appearing in certain… documents of interest, and requesting that immigration authorities deport his former partner. A résumé of considerable variety.
The proposal itself raises fascinating questions.
At what point does naming become claiming? At what point does recognition become appropriation? And at what point does someone, somewhere, say “absolutely not”?
One Martian diplomat has suggested renaming Zampolli “Persistent but Incorrect”, the Martian Council is considering this proposal very carefully.
Vietnam, retrospectively won
Not content with the present, Donald Trump has now turned his attention to the past, claiming that he would have won the Vietnam War “very quickly”.
Yes. That Vietnam War.
The same war he did not fight in. The same war that spanned decades, cost millions of lives, fractured a nation and reshaped global politics. The same war that has been pored over by historians, military analysts and scholars attempting to understand precisely why it unfolded as it did.
Solved, apparently, in hindsight.
We recognise this phenomenon as Retroactive Victory Projection – the curious belief that complex, multi-layered historical outcomes could have been altered entirely by the hypothetical presence of oneself, ideally in a position of authority and with the benefit of several decades of reflection.
It is, we must say, a bold claim.
Winning the Vietnam War was not a matter of simply “trying harder” or applying a different slogan. It involved geopolitics, insurgency warfare, domestic opposition, international pressure, and a host of variables that do not tend to yield to confidence alone.
And yet, here we are.
Particularly striking is the source of the claim: a man often referred to as Captain Bonespurs – a nickname derived from his well-documented avoidance of military service during that very conflict.
This introduces a certain… asymmetry. It is rather like claiming one would have captained a ship through a storm one never boarded, while watching from a safe distance with a pair of binoculars and a strong opinion.
We feel a conversation is required. Preferably one grounded in history, reality, and the modest acknowledgement that some events are not so easily rewritten – no matter how enthusiastically one reaches for the pen.
Closing reflections from orbit
Week 62 has been, in many ways, a study in contrast. On one hand, you edge closer to answering one of the most profound questions in existence: are we alone? On the other, you debate whether mountains should be renamed, wars retroactively won, and whether reality itself is optional.
You discover the building blocks of life on another world. You restrict access to the most destructive tools on your own. You question your own narratives while constructing new ones.
From Mars, it is equal parts fascinating and exhausting.
Up here, the Lunar Haggis have abandoned their patent application and are now attempting to communicate with the newly discovered microbes. Progress is slow but enthusiastic. Grzz’lax has issued a single statement: “They are trying. This is something.”
And perhaps that is the thread worth holding onto. Because for all the noise, the ego, the spectacle and the confusion, there remains a species capable of learning, discovering and, occasionally, correcting course. The question, as ever, is whether you will.
Until next week, Earthlings.
Try not to rename any mountains, rewrite any wars or prosecute those who point out the obvious. And if you do happen to discover life on another planet, do remember:
It may already be watching (we are already watching).
