Salutations, Earthlings. It is I, Xylb’tok – Martian anthropologist, intergalactic tea enthusiast, and unintentional chronicler of your species’ slow descent into absurdity. Week 12 has delivered another heaping plate of your finest political bafflement. It’s been dizzying – not unlike watching two Earth spiders try to tango. Let us begin.
Blue suit blues at the Pope’s funeral
The Pope’s funeral – a sombre occasion marked by dignitaries, tradition, and… Trump chewing gum while wearing a bright blue suit. Eyewitnesses reported he also scrolled his phone, drifted off mid-mass, and stepped on a ceremonial rug – possibly mistaking it for a media backdrop. Not happy with all this he didn’t even hang around long enough for Pope Francis’ burial, nope he reportedly left as soon as the ceremony was over – perhaps he was late for a round of golf.
There’s something uniquely Earthling about attending a sacred event and behaving like a teenager waiting for chicken nuggets. I give it six weeks before we discover he tried to tag the Vatican on Truth Social with the caption “#Blessed”.
His (un)Holiness, Pope Don the First
In a startling display of both delusion and ambition, President Trump has expressed his desire to become Pope. Yes, that Pope. Of the Catholic Church. Trump, whose familiarity with humility and theological nuance rivals my knowledge of barnacle mating rituals, thinks himself papal material. One must assume he envisions Vatican gold escalators and a MAGA mitre.
Of course, there is the small matter of him not being Catholic – or a priest – or, frankly, spiritually coherent. But these are mere details for a man who once claimed he could declassify documents with his mind. If elected (an unlikely phrase in this context), I expect the papal throne to be replaced with a golden armchair and holy communion to be served in McDonald’s wrappers.
Elbows Up, Canada! you did it
And now, a planetary palate cleanser. Canada, you delightful maple-drizzled bastion of democracy, actually voted for a competent human. A great sigh of relief could be felt rippling through the cosmos – even the moons of Saturn unclenched slightly. For once, a country moved forward rather than backwards into a flaming shopping trolley full of conspiracy theories.
Congratulations, Canada. May your healthcare remain free, your prime minister wear socks with pizzazz, and your general political vibe stay refreshingly adult.
America’s deportation detour – now featuring children
Back in the Land of the Free (terms and conditions apply), it appears the U.S. government has decided that deporting children is now part of standard operating procedure. Reports confirm minors have been removed from the country in contradiction of established protocols, the constitution, and – dare I suggest – basic humanity.
One can only assume that next week, the administration will begin deporting service animals and lunch ladies. At this point, even the Galactic Council has started compiling an intervention manual titled What to Do When a Planet Completely Loses the Plot.
Trump tricked by Photoshop – declares he can fix it all anyway
Speaking of completely losing the plot – this week saw President Trump embroiled in yet another digital debacle. Having previously fallen hook, line and golf cart for a photoshopped image of a wrongly deported man’s hands, Trump erupted in a very public spat with a journalist who dared to point out the obvious: photos taken of the man in El Salvador show his knuckles entirely tattoo-free.
In the now-infamous fake image, the man’s hands had been doctored to appear emblazoned with MS-13 gang tattoos – presumably to bolster the narrative that he was a dangerous criminal and not, say, someone wrongly ripped from his life and dumped in a prison abroad. Because, naturally, if you’re crafting immigration policy via grainy screenshots, nothing says “due process” like a dodgy JPEG passed around a Signal chat.
Once the forgery was exposed – by an actual journalist rather than one of Trump’s favourite flag-waving anchors – the Donold shrugged it off, declaring he could “get the man back if he wanted to”. A curious turn of phrase, better suited to summoning a pizza or recalling a wayward Labradoodle.
When pressed on why, given that the Supreme Court had already ordered the man’s return, he hadn’t done anything about it, Trump claimed – with the confidence of a man who’s just discovered how to forward an email – that he’s not the one making the decisions.
Pardon me, Earthlings, but… isn’t he the President? Or is he now simply the world’s loudest ceremonial mascot?
Justice, it appears, is now dictated by mood swings, memes, and whether the Commander-in-Chief remembered to charge his phone.
The mini war with Amazon
In what may be the second shortest geopolitical conflict in human history, Trump declared war on Amazon after the company said it would display tariff prices on its website. This apparently sent Don-Old into a fury, resulting in a no doubt very shouty phone call to follicly-challenged CEO Jeff Bezos.
Amazon then publicly stated this had never been policy, leaving the entire saga feeling like a toddler tantrum in the biscuit aisle. Victory was declared. By whom? No one knows. The war lasted less than half a day – though the bruised egos may require several weeks of spa treatments.
Justice in jeopardy – Judge Dugan vs. the ICE men
In a plot twist worthy of one of Earth’s many overly dramatic courtroom dramas, Judge Hannah Dugan of Milwaukee found herself arrested by the FBI this week. Her alleged crime? Interfering with the fine sport of Loitering With Intent to Deport, otherwise known as ICE waiting outside courtrooms for unsuspecting defendants.
Reports claim Judge Dugan helped a man evade immigration agents who were lurking like particularly menacing delivery drivers waiting to pounce. Depending on whom you ask, she was either defending the integrity of the legal system or harbouring fugitives between coffee breaks.
From my Martian vantage point, it’s difficult to see how upholding due process has become arrestable conduct, but then again, this is a planet where photoshopped knuckle tattoos are taken as gospel. You might want to consider installing basic legal firmware before the next civilisation update.
Elon & Donny: from bromance to billionaire break-up
Yes, the Elon–Donny bromance has officially gone supernova. After months of winking admiration, social media flattery, and what one can only assume were awkward attempts at shared hot yoga, the duo have split. Elon has stepped away from the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) and seems less keen to tie his rocket booster to the MAGA-mobile.
One can almost hear the faint strains of a break-up playlist echoing from Mar-a-Lago: “All By Myself” played on a golden kazoo. Expect passive-aggressive tweets, deleted X posts, and perhaps a competing line of colognes. “Eau de Ego”, anyone?
Whiskeyleaks strikes again – retroactively bragging rights
Whiskeyleaks, known to some as Pete Hegseth and to Martians as “that man with eyeliner and Wi-Fi issues”, proudly claimed this week that he had ended a Biden-era DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) programme.
Small hitch: it was actually Trump who signed that very programme into law. Revisionist history – the Earthling pastime, more popular than queueing or reinventing the wheel. Still, Hegseth remains confident, well-moisturised, and utterly oblivious. A potent combination.
Trade deals & the ghost of special relationships
This week, Trump helpfully informed the UK that a trade deal with them is now a “second order priority”. For a man who speaks of “special relationships” like a Martian who’s just discovered slow dancing, this was quite the diplomatic cold shower.
The UK, still clutching its post-Brexit bouquet and hoping for attention, has been left blinking awkwardly at the altar. As Trump flirts with flashier trade prospects elsewhere, perhaps it’s time Britain stopped setting an extra place at the table for Uncle Sam and accepted that the honeymoon ended sometime around the Suez Crisis.
Final thoughts from the Red Planet
Dear Earthlings – as always, your political antics baffle and bemuse. Somewhere between war declarations, papal aspirations and rug-stepping diplomacy, you’ve managed to create yet another week that defies satire. And yet, here we are.
Until next time – stay curious, avoid photoshopped hands, and for goodness’ sake, let the Pope rest in peace.
Yours in cosmic contemplation,
Xylb’tok
Martian Observer • Diplomat of the Drinking Craters • Reluctant Earth Correspondent
