Legal Disclaimer: This is a satirical commentary in the style of George Carlin. If you’re a billionaire warlord, an orange televangelist, or a defense-contracting ghoul who gets a hard-on every time you hear the word payload, this might sting. That’s not cancel culture—that’s conscience trying to reboot. Hydrate.
So Russia built a missile that can fly forever.
Fifteen hours, eight thousand miles, still going. A nuclear-powered cruise missile, because apparently “mutually assured destruction” wasn’t mutually assuring enough.
They call it Skyfall. Cute name for a flying reactor that can’t land without starting its own season of Chernobyl: The Sequel.
And while Putin’s out there playing Dr. Strangelove with a hangover, our own Fearless Leader—the guy who swore he’d end the war in Ukraine in twenty-four hours—gives us a seven-word sermon: “You ought to get the war ended.”
That’s not diplomacy; that’s a Yelp review. You promised peace in a day, Donnie. The only thing you’ve ended in twenty-four hours is a marriage and a buffet.
He loves Putin, hates Putin, sanctions Putin, blows him kisses.
It’s like watching a mobster break up with his loan shark.
He’s out here talking tough—after Putin yanks the leash and makes him heel on live TV.
That’s not a president; that’s a pet. He’s Putin’s bitch, and not even the good kind—the kind that begs for sanctions with a safe word.
Putin launches Skyfall; Trump launches Truth Social posts.
Guess which one has range.
They brag that Skyfall has “unlimited endurance.”
Buddy, it’s a missile, not a Viagra ad. It’s a nuclear-powered, self-irradiating, radioactive boomerang that nobody asked for.
You want to know what it’s really for? Propaganda. Theater. A giant “fuck you” with fins. Because the only thing Russia exports more reliably than corruption is overcompensation.
And the best part? They say it’s “invincible.”
Of course it’s invincible—it’s powered by bullshit and plutonium. The last one they tested blew up and killed their scientists, but hey, this time it flew fifteen hours, so success!
They reinvented the concept of failure with better PR.
Meanwhile our guy’s response is sanctions.
Sanctions!
Yeah, that’ll show him. That’s like fighting a tank with a tweetstorm. He’s pretending to be tough while making sure the oligarchs still get their condos in Miami. That’s not foreign policy; that’s foreplay.
And we eat it up!
We’re told this is strength, leadership, deterrence—when it’s really two aging egos measuring range instead of dick size. Putin’s got his flying apocalypse; Trump’s got his social-media cult.
One’s radioactive; the other’s brain-dead. Both could level civilization, and both will tell you it’s for your safety.
They call it “projecting power.”
What they mean is “projecting insecurity.” These assholes are holding the planet hostage because they can’t stand the idea of looking weak. They’ve built empires of ego and called it defense. They’ve built doomsday machines and called them peacekeepers. They’ve built cults and called them nations.
And when the reactors melt, the missiles fall, and the lies collapse under their own weight, the billionaires will be in their bunkers, and you’ll be out here with sunscreen and a prayer. Because when they say Skyfall, what they really mean is everything else will.
So here we are—Skyfall in the east, bullshit in the west, and the rest of us stuck in economy class with no parachute.
Putin’s building a bomb that never stops flying, Trump’s building a lie that never stops selling, and we’re the ones paying the fuel bill.
They’ll say it’s about deterrence, strategy, national pride.
It’s not.
It’s about two fragile men proving who can piss farther on the planet before it burns down. And when the sky finally falls, it won’t be God judging us—it’ll be gravity, doing what it always does: pulling stupid back to Earth.