Update from the Front lines of the Trumpistan Empire
The Saviour of the modern world, Emperor Donald J Trump has been in high level meetings with managers of his ever bigly expanding conquered lands and oceans. These meetings have prevented His Greatness from making his usual public appearances and glorious utterances.
The Emperor himself assures all the faithful that Everything Is Going According To Plan.
To calm and pacify the masses of well wishers, His Greatness has duly authorized his image to be projected every 15 minutes on every screen that exists in the Trumpistan Empire.
A pre-recorded message will provide guidance and stimulation to the Ever Faithful.
All electronic communications on the planet are monitored by Trumpistan Security and Surveillance Services Corporation.
( see your daily Trumpistan tax assessment to view your contribution to this Safety and Security Benefits Program ]
Rebel Communication specialists have been remotely monitoring the known movements of the Emperor and his entourage for several weeks. The best information they can glean from the networks. Emperor Trump has not physically changed location in the last 22 days.
Senior planners in the Resistance movement believe that the Emperor is quite possibly Dead. This would explain the lack of public appearances and the new video screen message programming.
Rebel leaders are unsure who might be actually in a charge of managing the Trumpistan Empire. Chancellor Vance has not been seen since he was summoned to a high level meeting with the top security and military managers of the Empire in Omaha, Nebraska.
Rumours are rampant and unconfirmed that a Trumpistan nuclear submarine lost propulsion and washed ashore on the beaches of Sierra Leone, Western Africa.
The local population engaged in a heated gun battle with the crew of the stricken submarine as they tried to escape. Eventually 30,000 members of the Sierra Leone militia overpowered the best Empire fighting force with unrelenting sacrifice of their young and vicious assault teams.
The Sierra Leone Royal family has sent coded messages to various friendly and like minded governments to get bids for the 20 nuclear missiles onboard the stranded submarine.
On Tuesday afternoon, the Sierra Leone Royal Family announced that they were now a nuclear capable country, the first in Africa...and would from now on be given all the respect due to such a powerful country.
The Office of the Trumpistan Empire issued a worldwide notice that all of its nuclear submarine fleet were accounted for and that the Sierra Leone Royals were simply lying.
This insult to the Royal Family was too much to bear. The All Exalted King of Sierra Leone, Jimmy Jimmy Hussain LaBongo promised his subjects that he would bring great vengeance against the arrogant Empire for doubting his power.
King Jimmy Jimmy could not easily find a nuclear weapons technician amongst his vast population. He required such a person to bypass the codes and fire one of his new nuclear missiles ad a display of seriousness.
When several of his most educated and knowledgeable wise men could not figure out how to launch the missile, all seemed lost.
On a dry and dusty Saturday afternoon a Pakistani truck mechanic let it be known that he could jury rig a firing mechanism for the nuclear missile. All the mechanic asked in return was 10 bars of gold and a ticket back to his family in Pakistan.
With very little to lose, and everything to gain....King Jimmy Jimmy gave the approval for the attempt.
The resourceful Pakistani mechanic asked for 3 wiring harnesses from Toyota diesel trucks and an ignition system from a Land Rover 4x4.
Unbeknownst to all, the security forces for the Empire had sent another ballistic missile carrying submarine to the coast of Sierra Leone to attack the surrounding area and retrieve the stranded sistership from the beach.
The newly arrived attack submarine lay 2 miles offshore in 100 feet of water.
The Empire had made joint rescue plans with Vice Assistant Emperor Vlad of the Russian Socialist Democratic Freedom and Prosperity Territories. They had airlifted in several armoured battalions that were now stationed 10 miles inland from the stranded nuclear submarine.
On paper, this was a cooperative mission for the benefit of the Trumpistan Empire. In reality, the commander of the amoured units was tasked with demolishing the local countryside and stealing the nuclear submarine for their own purposes.
So far, so good.
The Pakistani mechanic, dreaming of gold and home went to work installing the Toyota truck wiring harnesses to bypass the security system of the nuclear missile launch program.
After about an hour of solid work, the mechanic figured out that he didn't have the ability to aim the missile, but could definitely arm it and launch it. He reported such to King Jimmy Jimmy.
King Jimmy Jimmy, high as a kite on pharmaceutical grade Cocaine and MDMA was shooting random street chickens with a gold plated AK47 automatic rifle.
He thought that it didn't really matter where the nuclear missile went, as long as it went boom somewhere off in the distance and got peoples attention.
So, "good enough" was the standard to aspire to.
The hero of the day, our Pakistani mechanic.... now a rocket launch expert performed the final touches on his firing system bypass.
To be extra safe, he added 200 feet of extension cord to the firing wires to be at a safe distance when the nuclear tipped rocket blasted out of the submarine tube.
King Jimmy Jimmy and his royal entourage stood about half a kilometre back from the beach, protected from the hot sun by colourful tent awnings.
His military forces stood in formation and saluted sharply.
The Pakistani mechanic stood with the Land Rover ignition switch in hand ready to go.
Gold bars and home
Gold Bars and home
Gold bars and home
King Jimmy Jimmy Hussain La Bongo gave the signal.
The Pakistani mechanic turned the key.
And....nothing.
Onboard the submarine, the firing controller recieved the electrical impulse from the jury-rigged ignition switch.
The computer thought to itself..."Well, that's not what I was expecting. Huh. What to do? what to do?
On the beach, a visibly sweating mechanic kept clicking the switch.
King Jimmy Jimmy was just starting to get up from his seat to order the execution of the hapless mechanic.
Back on the submarine, the firing computer was pondering..."Well, I am the firing computer....my job is to do what I'm told...Somebody out here needs to fire something so...."
"So ...Fuck It....let's just do it!
And just like magic, just like in the old Saturday cartoons { or not} 20 nuclear warheads detonated without leaving the submarine that carried them.
70 megatons of Holy Fuck Mama What Have We Done Now.
The biggest nuclear explosion ever....anywhere, vapourized the mechanic, the Royal family, 80% of the population of Sierra Leone, the Trumpistan Empire nuclear sub waiting offshore, Several armoured battalions of Vlad's best.....and anything else that was laying around for miles in every direction.
The blast was heard across the ocean in South South Trumpistan.
{ previously South America }
The news and rumours of news was heard around the world.
That night, the sky glowed flaming red, and the ground had stopped shaking..... the voodoo men of Central Africa predicted the end of the world.
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