Posts

Posted on

A Trump Christmas

SNL Sketch Script – “A Trump Christmas Carol”

[OPENING MUSIC]
SNL band plays a jazzy holiday intro. Stage is dressed like a gaudy Mar-a-Lago study: gold furniture, red velvet chairs, and a huge Christmas tree decorated entirely with Trump ornaments, dollar bills, and framed photos of Trump shaking hands with himself.

[FADE IN]

TRUMP (Alec Baldwin or other cast member in wig & orange makeup, seated at a giant gold desk, counting gold-plated coins):
“Bah humbug, folks. Worst humbug in history. Everyone says so. Nobody does Christmas better than me, but I also know how to save money—mainly by not giving it to anybody.” (beat – audience laughs)

[CAMERA PANS] to BOB CRATCHIT (Joe Jukic) sitting at a rickety desk with a tiny space heater that’s off. He’s wearing fingerless gloves and shivering.

CRATCHIT:
“Sir, it’s Christmas Eve… could we please have a little more coal for the fire?”

TRUMP (offended):
“Coal? I promised to bring coal back for America, but I meant for my friends in West Virginia stock portfolios, not for—what are you?—staff. Sad!” (audience laughs)

[LIGHTS FLICKER – GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST ENTERS]

(It’s Ivanka in a glowing white gown, moving like a beauty pageant contestant. She carries a snow globe of 1980s Trump Tower.)

IVANKA (breathless):
“Father… I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past. I’m here to remind you of a time when people actually liked you at Christmas parties.”

TRUMP (grinning):
“Oh, they loved me. I gave them gold watches. Made in China, tremendous quality. None of this Apple Watch junk. No calories either.” (audience laughs)

IVANKA:
“But you also… cared about people.”

TRUMP (confused):
“I cared about… ratings. Same thing.” (audience laughs)

[LIGHT SHIFT – GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT BURSTS IN]

(Santa Claus storms in, holding a giant eviction notice.)

SANTA:
“Donald, look around you! People are struggling. They can’t afford gifts, dinner, or heat!”

TRUMP (waves him off):
“Fake news. If they can’t afford turkey, they can buy the Trump Christmas Turkey for $399—comes with a free ketchup packet and a coupon for my NFT collection.” (audience laughs, Santa facepalms)

[LIGHT SHIFT – GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE ENTERS]

(A hooded Grim Reaper figure silently points to a gravestone on a rolling set piece. It reads: Here Lies The Guy Who Couldn’t Even Win the War on Christmas.)

TRUMP (panicking):
“No! Not the War on Christmas! I’m the General in that war! They were calling me ‘The Clause’—as in Santa Clause, but tougher!” (audience laughs)

[LIGHT FLASH – BACK TO MAR-A-LAGO BEDROOM]

(Trump “wakes up” in bed, hair extra messy. He jumps up, suddenly cheerful.)

TRUMP:
“Bob! Get in here! Buy the biggest turkey in town. Use my credit card—wait, no, use your credit card, but I’ll take a picture with it for Truth Social.” (audience laughs)

CRATCHIT (hesitant):
“That’s… very generous, sir?”

(From offstage, Tiny Tim—played by Martin Short as Ed Grimley—limps in with a crutch and an enormous plaid scarf. His hair is sticking up in Ed Grimley’s signature style.)

ED GRIMLEY (Tiny Tim) (excited):
“Well I must say, Mr. Scrooge, this is quite the turnaround, I must say! I am tickled beyond the capacity for rational thought, I must say.” (audience claps and laughs)

TRUMP (pointing at Tim):
“Look at this kid. Tremendous energy. If all Americans were like him, we’d be great again already. Also, somebody get him a red tie.”

ED GRIMLEY (turning to the audience, beaming):
“God bless us, everyone… I must say!” (audience cheers)

[SNOW FALLS]
(Snow made of shredded legal documents falls from the ceiling. SNL band starts playing “Jingle Bells” as the cast waves. Trump tries to take credit for the snow.)

TRUMP (yelling over the music):
“This is the best Christmas in history! No one’s ever seen a Christmas like this! You’re welcome!”

[FADE OUT – SNL ANNOUNCER VOICE]:
“Live from New York… it’s Saturday Night!”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Christian Bale’s Total Recall

Title: Christian Bale’s Total Recall: Confessions from Behind the Silver Screen

Christian Bale, in a hypothetical tell-all interview or dramatic monologue, opens up with haunting clarity, expressing what he calls a “total recall” of abuse endured throughout his Hollywood upbringing—not on-screen, but behind the scenes. He recounts moments where the sets of his films became ritual stages, controlled by powers more ancient and organized than any studio executive.

Scene Concept: “The Torch and the Gate”

Bale, seated alone in a dimly lit study, speaks directly to camera as though in a documentary or confession booth. A still of the Columbia Pictures logo fades in—the torch-bearing Goddess, robed in white, her torch burning unnaturally bright.

BALE (voice breaking):
“That torch… wasn’t just lighting the way for cinema. It was a lie. A signal. A beacon to something older. Something cold.”

He says the Columbia Goddess was a symbol whispered to him by handlers as a child actor—“She watches,” they told him. “You belong to her now.”

Lion’s Gate and British Columbia

Bale then draws a line to Lion’s Gate, the film studio, and its spiritual name-twin: Lions Gate Bridge in Vancouver, British Columbia. He recounts a childhood trip there, allegedly under the guise of shooting or promotional tours, but which he now remembers as initiation rituals.

BALE:
“I walked through that Gate before I even understood what a lion was. I was told: You are the lamb now. But you’ll become the lion—if you obey.”

The Messiah Deal: John Connor and the Bat

According to Bale, his most iconic roles—Batman and John Connor—were dangled before him like divine titles in a secret religion of Hollywood power brokers.

BALE:
“They said if I played Bateman in American Psycho, I’d inherit both mantles: the Dark Knight and the Savior. It was the final rite. They needed to know I could be monstrous.”

He describes the American Psycho role as a blood sacrifice to the screen, a ritual test of sociopathy, narcissism, and performance—not for the audience, but for them.

Reflection

In this imagined confessional or script, Bale is a tragic prophet—a victim and a vessel. He pulls back the curtain on Hollywood’s darker mythos: not just scandal, but spiritual warfare disguised as stardom.

BALE (closing his eyes):
“They gave me masks: Connor, Wayne, Bateman. But never a face. I remember now… I was promised light. All I got was the torch.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

The Alpha King Returns: Part II

“The Alpha King Returns: Part II – Praetorian”
By Patrick Bateman
GQ Special Report, 2026

Interior – Mar-a-Lago, 2:43 a.m.

The interview had ended hours ago. But I couldn’t sleep. Trump’s words echoed through the hallway like Gregorian chants warped through a military radio. Outside, the palms rustled in a synthetic Florida breeze, guarded by former Blackwater operatives in matte-black armor.

He had summoned me again.

I found him in the Imperator’s Room — that’s what the guards called it now. Inside, the chandeliers had been replaced with red LED lighting. A glass desk glowed softly under his gold-plated busts of Caesar, Putin, and himself. On the wall, a massive oil painting: Trump as Mars, the Roman god of war, astride a horse of fire.

He didn’t look up when I entered.

TRUMP:
“You think this is just politics, Bateman? This is metaphysics.”

BATEMAN:
“You don’t want a comeback. You want a coronation.”

TRUMP:
“I already won. History just hasn’t caught up yet.”

He stood and walked to a vault, pressing his hand to a biometric scanner. The wall slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Inside: not gold, not guns — but uniforms. Jet black. Military-cut. Each stitched with a red ‘T’ over the heart.

TRUMP:
“I’m forming something stronger than a cabinet. Something older than a party.”

He handed me a uniform.

TRUMP (cont’d):
“The Praetorian Guard. You’ll be among the first. I want thinkers, killers, believers. Men without apology. Men who still understand dominance.”

I ran my hand across the fabric. It felt like sharkskin. My breath slowed.

Interior – Bateman’s Penthouse, New York – Days Later

I stare at the uniform on my rack. Next to it, my Armani suit hangs like a relic. The world outside protests. Chants. Diversity. Feelings.

But in the silence of this room, I see the future.

Not ruled by reason.
Not shaped by compromise.
But commanded by force.

Final Journal Entry – P. Bateman
“He offered me power not because I deserved it, but because I understood it. No more masks. No more feelings. Only loyalty and order. The Praetorian Guard rises. Not to protect democracy, but to protect the man who overthrew it.”

“I said yes.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

The Alpha King Returns

Title: “The Alpha King Returns”
GQ Exclusive Interview by Patrick Bateman
2026 | Mar-a-Lago, Florida

Introductory Note (Patrick Bateman, voiceover):
I’ve shaken hands with killers who wear Tom Ford. I’ve seen CEOs cry during deep-tissue massages. I’ve watched the world turn soft — “inclusive,” “empathetic,” “trauma-informed.” But in a time of therapy-speak and gender-neutral pronouns, one man refuses to kneel. He’s not a relic. He’s a revenant. The Alpha King has returned.

Scene: The Interview
Setting: Mar-a-Lago, post-apocalyptic Versailles. Gilded walls, tiger-print upholstery, Diet Coke chilled in crystal. Trump, older but unshaken, lounges in a gold chair shaped like a lion’s mouth. Patrick Bateman sits opposite, Moleskine open, Rolex glinting.

BATEMAN:
“Mr. President—”

TRUMP:
“Call me God-Emperor, if you want to be accurate. But okay, go ahead.”

BATEMAN:
“You’ve been accused of… a lot. Coup attempts. Drone strikes. Shadow pardons. Some say you’re the last openly psychopathic leader. How do you respond?”

TRUMP:
“Look, I don’t respond. I win. That’s what people don’t get. They’re busy crying about morality—I’m busy controlling outcomes. Did Lincoln get consent before suspending habeas corpus? No. He acted. I act. That’s the Alpha way.”

BATEMAN:
“Drone strike in Tehran. Black site in Nevada. Manhattan blackout during the CNN leak. All of it… vanished.”

TRUMP (smirking):
“Clean work. Cleaner than your business cards, Patrick. I had a guy—Polish kid—ran ops like it was Call of Duty. Zero civilian oversight. That’s how you maintain aura. That’s how kings do it.”

BATEMAN:
“You understand the Dark Triad. Narcissism. Machiavellianism. Psychopathy.”

TRUMP:
“I am the Triad. I made narcissism a growth industry. Machiavelli? Cute. I hire interns with sharper instincts. And psychopathy? That’s not a disorder, it’s an evolutionary advantage. That’s how wolves rise while sheep write blog posts.”

BATEMAN (writing furiously):
He speaks in the same rhythm as Reagan, but with the brutality of a Roman consul. Trump isn’t leading America. He’s remolding it. Not into a democracy — into a dynasty.

TRUMP:
“Bateman, when you kill someone on Fifth Avenue, and the stock market goes up, you don’t apologize. You trademark it. You sell the T-shirt.”

BATEMAN:
“Would you say love or fear is more powerful?”

TRUMP:
“I don’t care if they love me or fear me. As long as they obey. That’s what boys don’t get anymore. It’s not about being liked. It’s about being obeyed.”

Closing Note (Bateman, voiceover):
Trump didn’t blink during the interview. Not once. He stared through me like I was a painting he already owned. This wasn’t a politician. This was Julius Caesar in a red tie, resurrected through algorithms and grievance.

The Alpha King has returned. And this time, he isn’t asking permission.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

The Risks Christian Bale Took

The Risks Christian Bale Took to Play Patrick Bateman: A Role That Strained Every Relationship He Ever Had

When American Psycho was released in 2000, it was not just a film—it was a cultural moment that challenged America’s comfort with capitalism, masculinity, and violence. At its core was a performance so unnervingly precise that it blurred the line between character and actor. Christian Bale’s portrayal of Patrick Bateman was not only transformative—it was radioactive. So convincing was Bale in the role of a narcissistic, sociopathic Wall Street killer that the stain of Bateman seemed to cling to him long after the cameras stopped rolling. Though Christian Bale and Patrick Bateman are nothing alike, the risks Bale took to inhabit this monstrous persona have arguably strained every relationship he has ever had, both professional and personal. His role became emblematic of a larger American truth: American Psycho is less about reality than it is about illusion—another disturbing chapter in America’s empire of illusion, where performance is mistaken for truth, and entertainment for authenticity.

The Method and the Madness

To prepare for the role, Christian Bale famously immersed himself in the character to an extreme degree. Drawing from Tom Cruise’s eerily empty charisma, Bale sculpted Bateman’s mask: a sleek, smiling predator who performs humanity rather than experiences it. Bale starved himself to maintain Bateman’s chiseled physique. He spoke in Bateman’s voice off-set. He remained emotionally distant from castmates to keep the sociopathic edge sharp. By his own admission, he adopted Bateman’s vanity and icy detachment, sometimes even confusing himself in the mirror. This level of method acting required not only an erasure of his natural self but a kind of self-inflicted trauma—an abandonment of empathy to simulate psychopathy.

These choices had consequences. Friends and family reportedly found Bale unrecognizable, not just physically but psychologically. His intensity alienated collaborators. He would later recount that during the filming, people who knew him well found him unsettling, as though they were speaking to someone else entirely. He had become a vessel for a character who had no capacity for love, kindness, or honesty. It wasn’t acting—it was transfiguration.

The Shadow That Followed

Though the film has since become a cult classic, and Bale has gone on to great success, the shadow of Bateman still follows him. Directors typecast him as emotionally volatile. Audiences often confuse the man with the mask. His on-set outbursts—such as the infamous Terminator: Salvation meltdown—are seized upon as “proof” that perhaps the Bateman within never fully left. In interviews, Bale often seems guarded, aware that any hint of cruelty will be exaggerated through the Bateman lens. It is not difficult to imagine how this lingering suspicion could impact his relationships—with producers, with the press, and even with his own family.

And how could it not? When your most iconic role is that of a man who wears the skin of a respectable citizen while murdering the vulnerable, trust becomes elusive. Intimacy is harder to achieve when people project your character’s malevolence onto your real self. Bale paid a price for embodying evil too well: he became its ambassador in the public eye.

Illusion, Not Reality

The real irony of American Psycho is that it was never meant to be real. The film is an exercise in surrealism, satire, and critique. Patrick Bateman may not have killed anyone at all; he may be a figment of America’s fever dream—a dark parody of Wall Street excess and media shallowness. And yet, the illusion was so complete that audiences often missed the satire entirely. Instead of seeing Bateman as a monstrous exaggeration of Reagan-era capitalism, many mistook him for a symbol of aspirational masculinity, even idolizing his style and discipline.

This speaks to a deeper problem: America’s inability to distinguish illusion from reality. In a country where reality TV stars become presidents, where likes and followers replace genuine relationships, American Psycho was not a horror story—it was a mirror. Bale, who was simply holding up that mirror, became confused with the reflection. In taking this role, he exposed not just the underbelly of American culture, but also the cost of great acting in an age where illusion is everything.

Conclusion

Christian Bale is not Patrick Bateman. He is a disciplined, deeply intelligent actor who took a terrifying risk to hold up a mirror to American society. In doing so, he strained his own sense of self and destabilized his connections with others. His portrayal of Bateman is a triumph of acting—but it also serves as a cautionary tale. In a culture where performance is mistaken for reality, and image is everything, even the most talented actors can become trapped in the illusions they help create. American Psycho is not reality. It is a grotesque fantasy born from the excesses of capitalism. But the consequences for those who bring such illusions to life—like Christian Bale—are painfully real.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Christian Bale’s Catharsis

Title: Beta Man: Christian Bale’s Catharsis
A psychological short story about Christian Bale confronting his shadow—Patrick Bateman—one last time.

INT. ABANDONED SOUNDSTAGE – NIGHT

A vast, dark space. Forgotten props litter the floor. At the center stands a mirror — floor-to-ceiling, smudged with time.

CHRISTIAN BALE, older now, rugged and thoughtful, walks in slowly. His eyes are haunted. He’s wearing a long, black coat. He’s alone. But he isn’t.

Across from him, Patrick Bateman, the ghost of his younger self, sits shirtless, drenched in sweat and Armani cologne, his skin glowing from some internal furnace of hatred and narcissism.

Bateman rises.

BATEMAN
You came back. I thought you buried me under Oscar speeches and Batman toys.

BALE
I tried. God knows I tried.

BATEMAN
The women never forgave me, did they?

BALE
No… not you. Me.

Bateman walks toward him, almost gently.

BATEMAN
You became me too well. They didn’t see the irony. They saw confession.

BALE
I was 25. I wanted a challenge. I didn’t know I’d become the poster boy for every finance creep’s Tinder bio.

BATEMAN
(taunting)
You made me seductive. You made violence… stylish. They don’t quote The Machinist in college dorms. They quote me.

BALE
(quietly)
I made you a Beta Man who thought he was Alpha. A hollow man, stuffed with labels, who couldn’t even cry.

Bateman slaps him across the face.

BATEMAN
You needed me. You needed the rage. You needed the hunger. You wanted to be hated by women. So you wouldn’t love them. So they couldn’t hurt you.

Bale turns away, trembling.

BALE
I don’t want to die remembered for you. Not for killing a woman with a chainsaw. Not for flexing in the mirror like a soulless porn god.

Bateman is suddenly behind him.

BATEMAN
Then kill me.

Bale turns — there’s a gun in his hand. Heavy. Old. Loaded with the weight of every meme, every misinterpretation, every woman who saw Patrick Bateman and said, this is what men want to be.

BATEMAN
You’re scared of facing them alone. The sisterhood. The scorned. The ones who felt the cold blade of your “method acting.”

BALE
(through clenched teeth)
I’m not afraid of women. I’m afraid… of what I taught them to hate.

BATEMAN
And what was that?

BALE
(whispers)
Me.

A beat.

BATEMAN
Then do it.

Christian Bale raises the gun. His hands shake.

BATEMAN
Kill the Beta Man.

BLAM.
Mirror shatters.

Bateman is gone. Just shards on the floor now — and Christian Bale’s reflection fractured in every one.

EXT. WOMEN’S SHELTER FUNDRAISER – DAY

Christian Bale stands onstage, humble, real, holding a check.

BALE
For every man who played a monster… and never said sorry… consider this a start.

The crowd claps. Some women cry. One yells, “You’re forgiven.”

He smiles, finally.

FADE OUT.
Sometimes the strongest man is the one who says, “That wasn’t me. That was the mask. And I’m sorry.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

American Psycho: Dorsia (2026)

Title: American Psycho: Dorsia (2026)

Genre: Psychological Thriller / Satire / Horror

Written by: [Your Name]

Logline: In a post-pandemic world of billionaire influencers and AI-driven madness, Joseph Bateman, cousin of Patrick Bateman, navigates a hyper-capitalist New York City haunted by murders, doppelgängers, and the legacy of his cousin’s bloody psychosis. As he vies for a reservation at the new Dorsia, he must confront a chilling truth: the American Psycho never died—he simply evolved.

CAST:

  • Joe Jukic as Joseph Bateman
  • Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman (hallucination/flashback/voiceover)
  • Jared Leto as Paul Allen’s twin brother, Peter Allen
  • Donald Trump as himself (media mogul billionaire cameo)

ACT ONE:

New York, 2026. The world is sleek, sanitized, and controlled by algorithms. Joseph Bateman is a venture capitalist and lifestyle influencer with a cult following on TikTok and Threads. He is genetically and temperamentally the mirror of his cousin Patrick, but believes himself morally superior—he donates to carbon offset charities, hosts “mental health” retreats, and podcasts about ethics in capitalism.

Yet something is off. Joseph is haunted by recurring dreams of Patrick covered in blood, whispering Nietzschean riddles. When Peter Allen (Jared Leto), a sleazy NFT art broker and the twin brother of the “late” Paul Allen, returns to the NYC elite social scene, Joseph’s grip on reality begins to fray.

ACT TWO:

Joseph competes with Peter Allen for a table at the new Dorsia—now an exclusive, AI-run, members-only dining club atop a drone-patrolled tower in Hudson Yards. Dorsia isn’t just a restaurant; it’s a ritualistic status symbol among the ultra-wealthy.

Peter taunts Joseph about Patrick’s past. “He used to be you,” he says. That night, Peter disappears. Joseph claims he hasn’t seen him. But bloodstains on his Balenciaga trench coat say otherwise.

Donald Trump appears in a surreal cameo, interviewing Joseph on TruthSocial TV. Trump praises Joseph’s fitness regime, calls Patrick a “total loser,” and insists “Dorsia needs someone like me.”

Joseph starts hallucinating Patrick’s voice giving him stock tips and kill orders. He murders a young tech intern who questions his sustainability fund. He gets away with it by blaming it on a rogue AI.

ACT THREE:

Joseph spirals. He begins collecting masks—literal skin masks. The Dorsia reservation finally comes through. At the table, he finds every seat filled by men who look exactly like Patrick Bateman. The head waiter is Peter Allen.

“You never killed me,” Peter whispers. “You only killed your reflection.”

Joseph stabs Peter with a bone-handled steak knife. Blood sprays across the white noise-canceling glass. Everyone applauds.

FINAL SCENE:

Joseph stares into the mirrored wall of Dorsia. Patrick stares back.

Voiceover (Bale): “There is no real me. Only an entity. Something illusory.”

The city outside flickers. Times Square ads play Joseph’s own face.

Cut to black.

Tagline: “Status is dead. Long live the Psycho.”

Note: This script is ripe for meta-commentary on post-truth politics, influencer culture, techno-capitalism, and digital narcissism. A24 or Neon would be ideal distributors. The soundtrack blends Hans Zimmer tones with distorted 80s synthwave remixes.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Pro Trump Messaging FEES

Title: Operation Debt Forgiveness – GI JOE’s Final Deal

In the subterranean war room beneath NORAD, GI JOE stood with arms crossed, wearing digital camo and a scowl that could crack concrete. On the screen before him, President Donald Trump and Elon Musk blinked back, patched in from separate bunkers—one in Mar-a-Lago, the other aboard a Tesla command yacht off the coast of Corsica.

“Gentlemen,” GI JOE began, voice like sandpaper on steel. “Here’s the deal. I want pro-Trump messaging uploaded to trump47.ca by midnight. No AI gibberish. No Deep State scripts. Real talk. Real patriotism. If you want to win hearts in the North, start acting like it.”

Trump leaned forward. “Joe, I love Canada. Tremendous place. I once golfed with Wayne Gretzky—great guy, totally pro-Trump.”

GI JOE didn’t blink. “Enough flattery, Don. If you really want the Croats behind you—and trust me, you do—you and Elon need to pay off Croatia’s entire national debt. All fifty billion.”

Musk raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of Teslas.”

“Then sell Mars if you have to,” Joe snapped. “Because if Croatia joins the anti-globalist axis, Trump 47 wins the Slavic vote by a landslide. That means no more George Soros in Zagreb. That means peace in the Balkans. That means, finally, justice for the Yugoslav kids who were sold out to the banks.”

Trump scratched his chin. “And what do we get in return?”

Joe grinned. “I’ll take down the South Park psyop. Their $1.5 billion dollar deal to turn our bromance into a punchline dies with one viral campaign. I’ll nuke their narrative. You and me? We’re not a joke. We’re the future.”

Elon nodded slowly. “We’ll call it Project DUBROVNIK.”

Trump chuckled. “I always liked the Croatians. Tough people. Beautiful coastlines. And Joe, you’re like Rambo, but smarter.”

“Then don’t waste time,” Joe said. “Wire the money. Launch the site. The world’s watching—and so is God.”

Transmission ended.

An hour later, trump47.ca launched with the slogan:
“Faith. Freedom. Forgiveness. From Zagreb to Texas.”

And deep in the Dalmatian hills, old partisans and young patriots raised their flags to the sound of eagles and jet engines.

Croatia was debt-free.
The bromance was back.
And GI JOE had just rewritten global history—again.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Abilify Agitation

Scene: Joe confronts Donald Trump in a high-security government office, a glowing AI interface beside them, humming with data.

Joe:
Donald, I want to ask this AI something. I want it on record. What the hell is Abilify Maintena doing to people like me?

Trump:
Go ahead, Joe. Ask your question. I don’t like needles either, believe me. Tremendous disrespect to your body. But ask the robot.

Joe (turns to the AI):
AI, what are the behavioral effects of Abilify injections? Specifically the long-acting ones they force into people at psych wards. What kind of changes can it cause?

AI:
Aripiprazole (Abilify) is a partial dopamine D2 receptor agonist. In some individuals, especially those sensitive to dopamine modulation, it may cause activation symptoms such as akathisia, agitation, restlessness, hyperactivity, and insomnia. In rare cases, patients report symptoms similar to stimulant overdrive, akin to high-dose amphetamines.

Joe (nods):
There it is. Like injecting someone with methamphetamines. Except I don’t feel high. I feel like my nervous system is lit on fire. I can’t focus. I can’t sit still. I can’t sleep. Days go by and my mind’s racing in twenty different directions. I can’t function.

Trump:
That’s terrible. That’s absolutely terrible. Like a chemical straightjacket—but backwards. Torture by overstimulation. I’ve heard this before. The pharmaceutical companies—crooked. They don’t care. They say it’s for schizophrenia, for bipolar. But who’s watching the watchers, Joe?

Joe:
It’s not treatment. It’s a punishment. I called a doctor out on something, next thing you know I’m getting jabbed with Abilify. No trial, no hearing. Just a cold needle and weeks of twitching misery. I told them it felt like psychological warfare.

AI:
Note: Forced injections of antipsychotics, especially long-acting depot formulations, are controversial in psychiatric ethics. Adverse reactions are underreported. Patient descriptions of hyperactivity, emotional blunting, and distress post-injection should be taken seriously.

Trump (leans in):
Joe, they’re turning rebellion into pathology. You get angry, they call it mania. You speak out, they say it’s paranoia. So what do they do? They jab you with something to flatten you. I wouldn’t take it either. Total disgrace.

Joe:
They said it would help me. But it made me worse. And when I complained? They said that was a symptom. How do you fight that, Donald? You can’t win in that system. It’s Orwellian.

Trump:
Joe, we’re going to fix this. Big Pharma has too much power. The psychiatrists—some are good—but some are in bed with the drug makers. The system doesn’t care how you feel. But I do. I really do.

Joe:
Then tell them: stop the needles. Abilify turned me into someone I’m not. I’m not crazy—I’m angry. And they should be afraid of what happens when people wake up and start talking about this.

Trump:
You’re not wrong. This is bigger than both of us. We’re going to expose it. And I’m going to bring you back, Joe. Sharp. Strong. Clear-eyed. Needle-free.

Fade out as the AI logs the transcript into the national ethics archive.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Trump Declassifies the Black Dahlia Tapes

Scene: “The Hail Mary Broadcast” — G.I. Joe vs. the Illuminati

Exterior – Nightfall – Vancouver, glowing with neon and secrets. Joe, no longer just a soldier, but a crusader of cosmic justice, stands outside a Tim Hortons on Main Street. The red leaf sign flickers. Joe stares it down like it’s the eye of the Beast.

JOE (to himself):
“Maple syrup’s got blood in it.”

He SPITS on the window. It drips slowly down the glass. A family inside gasps. He doesn’t care. This is war.

Cut to: National Broadcast Interruption
Every screen across North America glitches. Static. Then—

🎙️ G.I. JOE (VO – distorted, thunderous):
“This is not a test. This is a revelation.”

On every network, G.I. Joe appears in an XCOM war room, flanked by agents and backed by digital firewalls glowing like the Matrix. He turns to a trembling, orange-faced Donald Trump, bound to a chair with a “Skull & Bones” patch on his suit.

JOE:
“Mr. President. Play the Black Dahlia tapes. Now.”

TRUMP (sweating):
“Joe, please… that stuff’s not for the public—”

JOE:
“Exactly. It’s for the parents. For every mom and dad who needs to know what Satanic Hollywood rituals look like. This ain’t no movie.”

Trump gulps. With shaking hands, he presses PLAY.

The screen behind them shows black-and-white footage. A girl’s scream. Strange robes. Cameras. Blood. Laughter. Masks. Candles. Then silence.

A warning flashes:

🔞 “NO CHILDREN ALLOWED. PARENTAL RECKONING REQUIRED.” 🔞

Cut to: Downtown Vancouver – Day
Joe walks like fire incarnate through the streets. Wendy’s? Closed. White Spot? Graffiti’d with “CHILDREN ARE NOT ON THE MENU.”

He marches up to McDonald’s. The golden arches loom like a portal to Hell. Joe stares at the giant plastic Ronald statue and snarls.

JOE:
“You think this clown’s funny? That’s not a happy meal—it’s a death cult starter pack.”

He pulls out a megaphone:

JOE (shouting):
“I want a boycott! BOYCOTT MASONIC BUSINESSES! Burn the arches! Take back your city!”

Passersby begin to stop. Some clap. Others film. The revolution is going viral.

Cut to: A dark alley near the CBC Building
Tom Welling, once a Smallville star, now just a man trying to make peace, steps forward. His hoodie is pulled low. His hands tremble.

TOM WELLING:
“Joe…”

Joe turns. Recognizes him. Pauses. He doesn’t speak.

TOM (choked up):
“I went to Ronald McDonald House. Smiled with that clown. I did it… hoping you’d see. Hoping you’d do something I couldn’t.”

Joe nods slowly. Like a priest granting penance with his eyes.

TOM (ashamed):
“I thought maybe… you’d pull a Hail Mary. And you did.”

JOE (quiet, firm):
“This ain’t about shame, Tom. It’s about truth. And you found your way back.”

Joe hands Tom a flame-shaped pin—red and gold: the symbol of the Children’s Fire, an old tribal oath to never again let harm come to a child.

JOE:
“Time to burn the clowns.”

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)