Forget about the fact that there’s been a treaty (the catchily named Outer Space Treaty) in place since 1967 (era of boring names) that mandates that space “shall be used exclusively for peaceful purposes,” When a president needs something punchy and Kennedy-esque to rally his rabid screaming base behind, he has two choices: war and space. And why not combine the two for maximal base-frenzy-whipping? We’ve already given the UN the finger, what’s there to lose?
Trump was probably flipping through the channels one night looking for Faux News when his finger got tired, and he landed on an old episode of Star Trek. Imagining himself to be as good with the ladies as Captain Kirk, Trump thought, “I’ve groped all the humans I can grope – what I really need is to be able to grab aliens by their genitals!”
What better way to show those sexy aliens who’s boss than by creating a Space Force to go shoot at them? Pew pew! I mean, the guy doesn’t have any compassion for other humans, why would we expect him to have any empathy for aliens? Just like 99.9% of the population of this planet, whatever lifeforms lurk out there are Trump’s to fondle and exploit (not necessarily in that order – only if they’re hot).
Look, one of the comedians behind Drunk Publius is married to a literal rocket scientist, and even that person thinks this is a colossally terrible idea. Great ideas include funding NASA, following international laws and international treaties, and not watching sci fi when you’re on Ambien.
In zero G, mix 3/4 oz green creme de menthe, 3/4 oz white creme de cacao, and 3/4 oz light cream in a cocktail shaker. Shake until chilled and strain into a cocktail glass. Keep drinking until a sixth space-based branch of the US military sounds like a good idea.
The Caged Baby is the drink for those nights when you wonder, “am I the bad guy?” And you definitely, definitely are. When you were grabbing some pussy, you told yourself, “actually, deep down, chicks dig it.” When you were hating on some black people, you told yourself, “I was just talking about the ‘bad’ ones.” When you were making fun of gay people, you weren’t quite sure whether they were being too sensitive or if they were infringing on your religious freedom. When you were hating on brown people, you told yourself that it’s only ‘illegal’ immigrants that you’re against even though you don’t know the first thing about immigration law; and your devotion to law and order gets a little less zealous when other skin colors are involved. And, besides, you are protecting our borders against foreign invasion! When you think about Native Americans . . . well, you try not to think too much about them because they mess up your narratives about inalienable property rights and defending the homeland and whatnot. But, when your side starts telling parents they’re taking the kids to get a shower and, instead, takes them away from mom and dad and puts the kids in cages, the self-righteous stories you tell yourself for ego-protection start to wear a little thin.
Ultimately, when you start pouring the Caged Baby, your only defense is probably that you aren’t the guy drinking the Murdered Puppy (almost certainly coming soon).
The Caged Baby
- 1 oz tequila
- ½ oz lime juice
- ½ oz simple syrup
- 4 oz champagne
Combine tequila, lime juice, and simple syrup into a shaker full of ice. Strain into a champagne flute and combine with champagne.
As Commodore Perry observed the last time we fought the Canadians, we have met the enemy, and he is us. (“Wasn’t Commodore Perry fighting the United Kingdom?” you might ask. Shut up, nerd.) After 203 years, a relationship starts to get stale. Even a man renown the world over for his steadfast loyalties like President Trump is bound to crave some novelty. Canada is reliable, polite, and doesn’t want to cause a fuss. If you get in a fight with Canada, you can be pretty sure that you’re the asshole. In a word, frumpy old Canada is boring.
Common wisdom says that you don’t put your dick in crazy. But there’s nothing common about Donny Two Scoops. He’s the best. Kim Jong Un is exciting, young, and has low expectations. He’s unpredictable. Erotically cruel. What’s it going to be? Good Kim funneling piles of cash earned by exploiting his slave population into Trump Organization properties? Or is it going to be Bad Kim launching a nuclear weapon into an ally’s population center? The uncertainty is . . . mmmm, delicious. You what else is delicious? The Canadian Conflict!
The Canadian Conflict
- 2 ounces rye whiskey or bourbon
- 1 teaspoon pure maple syrup
- Dash of Angostura bitters
- Orange peel (for garnish)
Pairs well with Glowing Guam (pg. 30, volume II) and The Rocket Man (pg. 33, volume II).