The Holy Warmonger

Hey Friends,

Good morning to everyone, including death row inmate Christa Pike, whose execution failed on Wednesday. That's one more newsletter for her, and many more to come for the rest of you.

This week, Donald Trump solved all our AI concerns.

He did two things.

• He rebranded AI to SI, making it far safer than it was with the other name (one of my favorite marketing tricks).
• And he did exactly what Biden already did: he asked AI leaders to make a pact, then promptly fell asleep in the Oval Office.

Nothing a nap and a pinky promise can't fix.

Anyway, this week, I'll cover the latest developments in the Department of War.

Let's get to The News.

All's Fair in Love and War

The Universe is a mystery; it's vast, and cold, and larger than one can imagine. Even our foremost experts on holes, including Swiss cheese makers, ENT doctors, and OBGYNs, are perplexed by one of the most mysterious of holes, the black one. It suck everything it comes in contact with, directly into its center, stretching it into spaghetti. In the black hole, space and time do not exist, or if they do, they are spaceless and timeless, a brain-breaking fact that can be proven with repeatable, mathematical experiences, yet never truly understood.

In the universe, light travels at a speed equal to 186,000 miles per second, faster than Cornell can sweep a sexual assault under the rug. Nothing can travel faster than the speed of light without splitting space and time itself. If you even came close, you would not be able to see, hear, or detect that travel, as light, sound, and time itself do not keep up to even observe it. Our best mathematical models only get us close to understanding the concept. The only thing we know is that, to even truly understand, we would need an infinite amount of energy, and every particle of our mass would disintegrate into its smallest parts, leaving behind a trail of matter strewn evenly across its path through the universe.

These things are a mystery. As much as we do know, we hardly understand even what we know.

Down here on Earth, we don't have this problem. Even the God of this very mysterious universe, who can neither be observed nor measured, is no mystery to us. Our brains, at the size of a bunt cake, are fully equipped to comprehend all the essentials of the creator of space and time itself. We know his name, his gender, his family tree, and his strategy of global dominance. We know the plans he has for us, and we know they are plans to wage war against all of our enemies.

This is all thanks to years of committees, open letters, and carefully curated data points. But most of all, it's thanks to Pete Hegseth.

Secretary Hegseth, currently serving as the acting dumbest person in government, has made it clear that the military is not for the gay of heart. It is God's own hand, a tool sent to do his handiwork. When Isaiah said, "Here am I, send me," he meant it in an F-16 Fighting Falcon. When Jesus said, "Love thy neighbor," he meant it with bombs.

This week, Pete delivered his annual address, giving the "State of the Force," where he announced he would be launching the Office of Religious Affairs, whose department head reports directly to him. In the new office, faith is no longer about soft power; it's about war. The separation of church and state sounded great for a little while; now it's time to force the church on the state, with the full power of the military. Because when you're bombing a shiite muslim, it's a perfect time to witness to them, or better yet, curse them into hell. In a Christian way, of course. You don't need the fruit of the Spirit to show people who you are; a pocket Bible next to your 30-round magazine is enough.

In his address, he announced the removal of the letters D, E, and I from all Department of War use. His name will be Pt, to make sure he's not too woke, and anyone who did not like his direction no longer works here. He declared that the army will have "No fatties, no trannies, no beardos, no weirdos, no wimps, no radicals. Just warriors. Just tough, ready, committed troops." … the ideological clowns are out.

Except him, of course.

Pete, under the leadership of the most impulsive commander in chief in our lifetime, has hollowed out the chain of command, where generations of expertise have been sacked, stacking the deck with clean-shaven yes-men. Because, despite their years of experience, he believes he knows better.

He's prioritized increasing strength training requirements and mandatory screening for testosterone deficiencies, which sounds great but unrelated to the skills required to use a video game controller to fly a drone.

He has led us into a war with no strategy or discernment, and claimed a victory the whole world can see was not achieved. He depleted missile stockpiles by as much as 80%, while pushing our goal even further away than it was when we started.

But it's okay if you disagree with Pete. As long as you don't disagree with God, who now reports directly to Pete. He reminds his staff of Psalm 33:12, which says, "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord." And Pete thinks he knows exactly what God wants. American exceptionalism, a lethal force, and, as Pete invoked in his speech, war ordained by God.

I've always had confidence in our military, assuming it is the strongest in the world. Believing that is half the recipe for keeping us out of war. Because Pete has put it on full display that we must be the weakest we have ever been. I no longer believe it. Our enemies don't either. So if Pete can't even figure out the military, why does he think he knows anything about God?

That's it for this week.

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Have a great weekend!