Legal Disclaimer: This performance contains profanity, political heresy, and small traces of uranium. Side effects may include disbelief, nausea, and a sudden urge to Google “how close am I to a fallout shelter.”

You ever notice it’s always the weak guys who talk about nukes? The ones with the emotional stability of a chihuahua in a thunderstorm?

FOTUS wants to start testing nuclear weapons again.

Testing.

Like the planet’s a fucking science fair project. “Look, Ma, I made Nevada glow!”

Let’s review, shall we?

No country—and I mean no country—has set off a nuke since 1998. India and Pakistan were the last ones to play “who’s got the bigger fireball.” We haven’t done it since 1992. Thirty-three years of not blowing holes in the desert, and somehow, this guy thinks that’s a problem.

He says we have to start testing again because “other countries are doing it.”

Really? Which ones?

Russia’s too busy losing drones.

China’s busy buying our farmland.

France is drinking wine.

The only country still detonating nukes is North Fucking Korea, and even they’re like, “Dude, tone it down.” But no, FOTUS wants to puff up his chest and say, “We’re back, baby! Daddy’s got the biggest boomstick on the block!”

This isn’t policy—it’s overcompensation with a blast radius.

And remember, this is the same guy who’s been shouting about “denuclearization.”

Yeah! “Let’s get rid of nukes—after I build ten more and set one off for fun!” He’s like an arsonist preaching fire safety. Like a guy yelling, “We need to stop pollution!” while pouring gas on his golf cart.

And he hasn’t changed his tune in nine years. Back in December 2016, he said, “The United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the world comes to its senses.”

Translation: “We’ll stop playing with matches once everyone else promises not to notice I’m on fire.”

This isn’t about defense. This is about performance. A fragile man desperate to look powerful enough that his reflection salutes him.

He talks about “sending a message.”

Oh, it’ll send a message, all right—“Dear World, America’s lost its therapist.”

We already learned what testing does.

We learned it in the dust of New Mexico, the fallout of the Pacific, and the bone marrow of anyone who lived downwind. We learned it in leukemia rates and glowing rabbits. We know what happens when you start throwing atomic tantrums. That’s why we stopped!

But now he wants to light the fuse again, to “show strength.” Buddy, strength isn’t when you blow shit up. Strength is when you don’t have to.

Every time he feels weak, he reaches for something that explodes. Missiles, rhetoric, Twitter—same psychology, different payload. He’s not protecting America; he’s auditioning for a Cold War reboot no one greenlit.

And you can picture it, can’t you?

A ceremony at Mar-a-Lago: “Today, I’m authorizing a new test. We’re bringing the glow back to American sand!” Cameras flashing, the man in a lead-lined MAGA hat, saluting a mushroom cloud like it’s the flag of freedom.

And the crowd cheers! Because nothing says patriotism like irradiating your own country to feel taller.

We don’t need new tests. We don’t need more bombs. We need better men—men who understand that “winning” doesn’t mean “making the desert uninhabitable again.”

We’ve had quiet for three decades. No detonations, no mushroom clouds, no Godzilla auditions. And now he wants to restart the apocalypse for applause. 

To prove he’s a “strong leader.”

Newsflash, pal—strong leaders don’t have to threaten annihilation every time they feel small. You want to feel powerful? 

Go fix a bridge.

Go feed a kid.

Go nuke poverty, not the planet.

So yeah—he says we need to start testing nukes again.

Fine. Start with a small one. Right there at Mar-a-Lago. Let’s see how manly you feel when your golf course glows in the fucking dark.

Goodnight, America. Sleep tight. Don’t worry—the mushroom cloud’s just him compensating.