War Secretary Pete Hegseth bounded onto the stage in front of a flag as big as his fantasy mattress and he was turgid. A perfect array of generals sat before him in formation, stone-faced and ramrod straight. War Secretary, he’d grumbled to a minion. Better than Defense Secretary, but can we do something about that “secretary”? Sounds too pencil-skirty. Too chase-around-the-desky.

Yes sir, mouthed the minion, revising the intro.

War Daddy Hegseth addressed the room of immobile brass with an arousing speech, and let America watch. That’s when it became clear: Big Peter is reliving his precious first chubby as a ten-year-old playing with GI Joe dolls. They just stand there but you can move them around and smack them into things, BIFF! POW! RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT! His sponsor Uncle “The” Don was there too, although he was probably more of a Barbie boy. It was a proud moment on the stage, “Pull-ups” Hegseth alongside the fittest president in history, like no one has ever seen.

And now, with his own real action figures assembled before him, he can keep that juice going as long as he wants—he can call them killers in one breath, he can call them a bunch of fatties in another, he can move them anywhere he pleases. POW! The whole administration is bristling with fans of snuff porn, and that includes Kristi Noem. Oh golly, we can kidnap now, we can torture, we can blow random fishermen right out of the water! It’s easy. And they’re hard. Especially Kristi Noem.

And there’s nothing more stimulating than being able to redirect our troops to fight us Americans: the Enemy Within, the pansy contingent. This is of particular interest to me as a Portlander, because Portland is slated to be a practice arena for martial law in America. We couldn’t be prouder! There are two stages to the training: the training of the actual deployed troops, and the training of American citizens to accept civil-warriors in our midst.

We know it’s going to happen because the president himself, while dribbling out logorrhea for an hour to the assembled brass, reiterated that the troops were on the way.

Unfortunately it’s going to cost millions of dollars to assemble cast, crew, and Best Boy for the production ,and the government just shut down. But maybe Hegseth and Trump have enough jingle in their pants to fund the fun.

There’s been some slight delay because the President said our town was war-ravaged but nobody’s actually ravaging. I was just at the ICE building in SW Portland and the only person there was a guy in a chicken suit. So the Commandant-in-chief will have to send us some war. It won’t take much effort. Toss in 200 troops in battle regalia and we’ll get thousands of citizens out squawking. Heck, I’ll be there, and I’m just an old lady. Since the military has already shown no compunction about firing pepper balls at peaceful demonstrators, and especially since the troops to be deployed have volunteered for the honor, this scene should heat up nicely. We might even get some Antifa action going if Trump plays his cards right, although it’s not strictly necessary for his purposes—recycled footage from five years ago played in a loop will do the trick. Or even a riot scene from a whole different country.

Portland ICE facility under siege

Suggestion to my black-clad compatriots: I appreciate your fervor. However, if what you do causes ordinary thinking adults such as myself to wonder if you’re the real thing or play-actors trying to gin up outrage to benefit the opposition, it might be time to rethink your strategy. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Suggestion to Portland: Show up. Be your peaceful, weird selves.

Suggestion to the rest of the country: Since it is becoming increasingly clear we are being circle-jerked around by a cadre of little boys with an unhealthy regard for their own phalli (including Kristi Noem), can we work up a solution before anyone else gets hurt? If we can solve this whole mess with a good fluffer and a measuring tape, I say, bring on the fluffer.