I regret to inform you the men who wear literal, actual, I-shit-you-not-this-is-happening-in-real-fucking-life clown shoes to work (at, heaven help us, the White House and Pentagon) haven’t quite figured out how war works yet, but I’m sure they’ll pick it up. Give it two weeks. How hard can it be?

A whole new expanded edition of The Art of the Deal is being rushed to press, updated to include the Dotard’s deft diplomacy this week, as he briefly attempted to assemble an international coalition for the war he’d already started.

SURE WOULD BE COOL IF SOMEBODY BAILED ME OUT OF THIS MESS I MADE he mused, almost coquettishly, causing a brief, involuntary, “can you believe this asshole” laugh to escape the entire international community at once.

Oddly enough, after more than a year of tariffs and periodic threats of invasion, our longtime allies seem to have misplaced their cavalries. So it is to be Americans alone who have the privilege of dying for Jared Kushner’s private equity firm.

Still, it’s only a matter of time before the whole world lines up behind the hot new war that has everyone wondering, “Are the people running this country clinically insane?” and, “No, seriously, what the fuck are we even doing here?” I fear Japanese recruitment centers won’t be able to handle the sheer volume of volunteers signing up to bleed for the guy with the hilarious, hilarious Pearl Harbor jokes.

Every red-blooded American boy wants to be part of this, just to say he was there! Why, to risk your young life for such strategically sound warfightin’ hardly counts as risk at all!

Take, for example, the way the exceptionally stable geniuses in charge either decommissioned or redeployed our minesweeping ships in the region, even as the Iranian regime mining the Strait of Hormuz was widely expected. Or the way Kash Patel gutted the counterintelligence unit monitoring Iranian threats in one of those purges he squeezes in around taxpayer-funded vacations with his girlfriend.

While these might seem like blunders, your Uncle Sam would rather you considered the possibility that what they really are is OPPORTUNITIES FOR GLORY! Yes, it could be YOUR boots on the ground on exotic Kharg Island, in service to a dying narcissist’s fantasies of empire (plus also the Kushner thing)!

Once you’ve arrived, the president’s BFF will help the Iranian military target you, because there’s a cuck chair in the Situation Room now.

Don’t worry, though; the U.S. government has responded to this treachery by imposing new sanctions on the —hang on, I’m receiving an update. Excuse me, by LIFTING sanctions. It’s a really nice cuck chair. It’s got those temperature-controlled cup holders.

They’re already demanding 200 billion additional dollars for their Special Military Operation (theatrically Russian wink), at least half of which is reportedly earmarked for Badass Action Movie One-Liner workshops for Secretary Hegseth.

How lucky are we to have white Christian nationalism’s smoothest brain running the Pentagon?

Of course I’ve always found fanatical religious certainty unsettling, but in a fellow who has beclowned himself on history’s largest stages with such regularity, it’s more confusing than anything. Or perhaps I just don’t remember the Bible stories about Jesus blowing up schools full of children. You’re way too dumb to be any god’s chosen vessel, Pete.

In special subterranean bunkers designed to emulate their moms’ basements, you’ll find a legion of MAGA’s creepiest weirdos “grinding away on banger memes” to manufacture consent for regime change or re-obliterating the already obliterated Iranian nuclear program or whatever Grandpa said last.

Given that this war, excuse me, “excursion,” excuse me, “flaccid fascist frolic,” polls as the least popular yet documented, perhaps the memes don’t bang quite as hard as advertised. And in 9 out of 10 cases, I get upset thinking about all the kakistocrats drawing government salaries, but I’m happy to open my wallet for counterproductive messaging.

Still, every dignified transfer represents a new fundraising opportunity. Sure, sometimes the family might request privacy, but who cares what the suckers and losers think? Made-in-China baseball caps ain’t gonna market themselves.

One Reich official actually resigned on principle over the war, which sounded promising until you realized it was Joe Kent, because Joe Kent’s “principles” are a fetid porridge of the racist dorkosphere’s zaniest misconceptions. Lord knows the nation is healthier with Joe spooning anti-Semitically with Tucker Carlson rather than directing national counterterrorism operations, but perhaps this can serve as a small launching pad for a wider discussion of human resources issues?

For example, we also learned of a high-ranking official in the Federal Emergency Management Agency who claims to have teleported. To a Waffle House. I don’t want to tell anybody how to staff their kakistocracy, but maybe management isn’t the right spot for that guy.

Anyway, Kent’s facing some retaliatory investigatin’, of course, just like the recently defenestrated comedy duo of Noem & Lewandowski. Don’t worry though, MAGA apparatchiks! He’ll stay loyal to YOU!

Quite a few failed autocrats are hitting the job market these days. Ric Grenell, having bungled his gig so hard that there is literally no work left to do, announced his departure from the temporarily defiled Kennedy Center. Lil’ Greggie Bovino’s officially a free agent too, though I’m hearing rumblings that Erik Prince wants him to spearhead a revival of the old Pinkerton brand.

The security of the homeland will just have to settle for Markwayne Mullin, I suppose. Understanding he’s “not going to be the smartest guy in any room” elevates Mullin miles above the existing Cabinet ethically, but they’ll beat the humility out of him at the hazing ceremony, I’m sure.

You know Linda McMahon runs that shit. Degrading carny rituals from the world of pro wrestling. There’s a photograph of a couple of oiled-up billionaires in a vault somewhere that Scott Bessent thinks about every time they send him out to tell the public that, say, they’re removing sanctions on the country we’re actively at war with.

Though I maintain Markwayne would be happier to be dropped into a bottomless pit alongside Rand Paul so they could hiss and spit and slap away at one another for all eternity.

I like it when they fight. Each other, that is. Mark Levin has a micropenis, but Megyn Kelly is a harlot, apparently. Y’know what? I’m not gonna get a scorecard today; I’m just gonna have a couple of beers and enjoy the spectacle of the worst people alive ripping each other to ribbons.

One of the president’s dirtbag chums got ICE to deport the mother of his child, settling a bitter custody battle with fashy finality. So our oligarch overlords are to be permitted power to commandeer the masked, unaccountable secret police force for personal grudges? Neat! I mean, I prefer what we had under the Constitution, but all this lawlessness is certainly exciting.

Why, I’ve never been so distracted from the Epstein files. If there were some hypothetical new email that contradicted another chunk of the president’s ever-shifting alibi, I was way too distracted to notice it or write about it in my blog.

Oh, and I guess we’re dabbling in a lil’ light human rights violation with Cuba. It’s not as big as Greenland, obviously, but a certain megalomaniac would still gladly settle for the “honor” of “taking” it.

Plus, we’re blackmailing Zambia. Sort of a give-us-your-mineral-wealth-or-we’ll-cut-off-HIV-aid kinda deal, which is…I think it’s fair to call that evil. Blowing up schoolchildren certainly merits that label. The predictable carnage from gutting USAID was pretty dang evil, to say nothing of the assassinated nurses and deportations to foreign torture prisons and I know what you’re thinking right now.

You’re thinking, “Let’s mint this man a gold coin with his face on it!”

The banners were great and slapping his name on another man’s memorial was epic and of course I intend to ecstatically self-immolate at the ballroom dedication ceremony like every other right-thinking patriot, but let’s give the mad king another graven image to tide him over between peace prizes.

Please convert any beer fund donations (via PayPal, Cash App, or Venmo) into golden Trump coins. I heard a rumor that if you use them to pay your gas tithe and your tariff tithe, you can summon minor demons. They can’t, like, cure baldness or anything major like that, but they’ll get you a government job even if you believe you teleported into a fucking Waffle House. You just have to manage your expectations.

(Yes, yes, sign up for emails, follow @john_luzar, and as always…stay safe out there…)