Rumble link Bitchute link False Flag Weekly News link

These days, satire pretty much writes itself. Actual events, as reflected in both mainstream and alternative accounts, have become so absurd that it is almost impossible to parody them. And however bleak, sardonic, and gallows-humorish the parody, it’s never as dark, creepy, and it-only-hurts-when-I-laugh depressing as the real thing.

Since writing satire has become impossible, I have stubbornly continued to attempt it. In fact, I expect to be arrested and charged with Attempted Satire any day now. Reactions have been mixed, ranging from “are you trying out for The Onion? Don’t quit your day job” to outpourings of ROFL icons. At Substack, my satirical pieces get slightly more likes, on average, than my serious ones, which may be a bad sign.

The most compelling reason I insist on writing satire, however impossible the task, is FFWN co-host Cat McGuire. She is seriously ill with a brain tumor, and tells me that the laughter evoked by my satires has healthful anticarcinogenic properties. Since the Mayo Clinic agrees that laughter is the best medicine, aside from its obvious mental health benefits, I am going to take her word for it and keep on writing those prescriptions.

Or at least I was planning to…until I discovered that AI may soon put me out of business. Until today, all of my prods and prompts aimed at elbowing ChatGPT in the ribs in hopes of helping make it humorous were in vain. AI, it seemed, was reliably unfunny. To be fair, the failure went deeper than humor: Anything AI ever said about current events was reliably dumb, mainstream (but I repeat myself) and lacking even the faintest spark of wit or insight.

But today, mirabile dictu, the word-sorting wonder produced a serviceable satire. Not a great one, mind you, nor even a good one. I don’t think it’s as good as any of mine, and not all of mine are all that great. But it’s adequate enough to dissuade me from bothering to write my own version of the same thing. Talk about a labor-saving device! The only work I had to do was ask ChatGPT:

Can you create a parody of a Trump executive order imposing the highest level of National Security classification on the name “Jeffrey Epstein” and imposing draconian penalties on those who mention that name?

The result, give or take a few words, was as follows:

Executive Order on the Super-Ultra-Mega-Top-Secret Classification of a Certain Name (2025)

By the Authority Vaguely Imagined To Be Vested in Me as President of the United States,
I, DONALD J. TRUMP, hereby issue the following—very tremendous—Executive Order:

Section 1. Purpose.

Whereas some names are dangerous, some are very dangerous, and some are so explosively dangerous they make the nuclear codes look like a Netflix password;
And whereas ONE PARTICULAR NAME has caused endless media hysteria, late-night jokes, whisper campaigns, documentaries, docudramas, and documentaries about the documentaries;
It is hereby declared necessary to protect the American people from the destabilizing utterance of said name.

Section 2. Establishment of the “Ultra-Super-Hyper-Top-Secret-Plus” Classification.

(a) Effective immediately, the words commonly referring to a certain individual—whose initials are “J.E.” and whose social circles were, frankly, very suspicious—are classified at the highest level ever created: Ultra-Super-Hyper-Top-Secret-Plus (USH-TSP).
(b) This classification level exceeds Top Secret, SCI, SAP, and “Things You Shouldn’t Even Ask About.”

Section 3. Prohibited Conduct.

(a) No person shall utter, whisper, mumble, tweet, post, text, mime, interpretive-dance, or lip-sync the aforementioned name.
(b) Substitutes, euphemisms, and clever nicknames such as “J-E Guy,” “The Island Frequent Flyer,” “That One Dude,” or “The Guy Who Said Trump Blew Clinton” are also prohibited.
(c) Saying “I’m not saying the name” in a way that implies the name is also prohibited.

Section 4. Penalties.

Violators shall face one or more of the following penalties, determined at the sole discretion of the National Security Council and whichever intern answers the phone that day:

1. Mandatory Listening to a 14-Hour Speech on how the 2016 election was the greatest victory in human history.
2. Immediate Placement on a No-Dessert List for a period not to exceed 99 years.
3. Compulsory Service as a Mar-a-Lago Golf Caddie, including bunker maintenance.
4. Being Forced to Explain Cryptocurrency to Congress.

Repeat offenses may result in Supermax Time-Out, a new, very modern, very high-tech disciplinary measure whose details are themselves classified at the USH-TSP level.

Section 5. Exceptions.

(a) The only individuals permitted to speak the classified name are:
(1) The President, if he remembers;
(2) The Attorney General, if he must;
(3) Journalists, but only in the form of rhetorical questions that never get answered.

Section 6. Sunset Clause.

This order will remain in effect until such time as all investigations, inquiries, documentaries, rumors, rumors about rumors, and podcast episodes related to the named individual have conclusively ended, which is estimated to occur Never.

Issued this day, in the Year of Our Sunburn at Mar-a-Lago.

—President Donald J. Trump

What makes ChatGPT’s satire mediocre, however (arguably) serviceable, is that its ultimate thrust is to trivialize an outrageous situation. Its whimsical tone is absurdly inappropriate, given the context: The United States has been taken over by a tribe of genocidal criminals who maintain control of our leaders through blackmail, as well as bribes, assassinations, and other unsavory means. That’s outrageous. It’s evil. It’s so horrible that it demands that a sane person either take up arms, or wish they had the courage to do so. But ChatGPT, like the Onion at its worst, produces writing that is far too lighthearted to do justice to its subject, accurately reflecting some of its absurdity but none of its painful obscenity. Satire in such circumstances requires a Swiftian sensibility, a balance of humor and prophetic anger, and AI, lacking emotions—or perhaps because it is programmed to conceal truth rather than reveal it—seems not quite capable of rising to the task. (By contrast, check out my much angrier satire on Trump/Epstein.)

National Epstein Security: It’s Serious!

Though “National Epstein Security” is a joke, the joke’s on us. We are in fact living under a de facto National Epstein Security directive. And, contrary to mainstream reports, it hasn’t been revoked. As Ken Klippenstein points out, the Epstein Files Transparency Act that Congress passed and Trump signed last week only mandates the release of unclassified material.