To Keep Americans Safe, the Press Must Only Publish Hot Photos of Me
“The Defense Department has barred press photographers from briefings on the ongoing U.S.-Israeli military conflict with Iran after they published photos of Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth that his staff deemed ‘unflattering’…”
-– The Washington Post
The world is a dangerous place right now—with US military strikes on suspected “drug boats” in the Caribbean, the threat of unilateral military action in Latin America, and a poorly defined war in Iran that I started. That is exactly why it’s critical that I look jacked as shit in the media.
As the secretary of defense, my job isn’t only to designate cartels as “terrorists” and oust leaders of countries that happen to sit on massive oil reserves. I also have to maintain the troops’ respect. And nothing undermines morale faster than an unflattering photo of me berating a journalist who asked whether we’re putting Americans in unnecessary danger by going to war in the Middle East.
Critics say that banning photography during Pentagon briefings is an act of vanity. Or an attempt to distract from the fact that I squandered $8.9 million taxpayer dollars on Alaska king crab and lobster tail last September, but they couldn’t be further from the truth. You try getting a rogue regime whose nuclear capabilities you said you wiped out months ago to back down when your jawline isn’t taut, you have dark under-eye bags, and spit is visibly flying from your mouth.
People think military deterrence depends on intensive diplomacy, missile defense systems, and a massive nuclear arsenal. But that’s outdated. In modern warfare, strength is communicated through optics. Through posture. Through a jawline that says, “I’m batshit crazy enough to start a war I have no idea how long it will last, how much it will cost, or how many American lives I’ll lose.”
There’s nothing I take more seriously than protecting American lives; I listen attentively to intelligence briefings, I brainstorm ways to maintain world stability, and I spend five to seven hours a day in front of a mirror perfecting a power stance and furrowed brow that signal strength, dominance, and a willingness to discard my own sense of morality.
While pundits obsess over the complicated geopolitical implications of my rash decisions, almost no one recognizes the real challenges of wielding such immense power—sending young Americans off to war while looking fresh-faced, like I just got a new round of Botox.
Take the last few weeks alone. I’ve used AI technology to identify potential targets, ordered drone strikes, and sent mixed messages on whether I’ll send naval forces to the Strait of Hormuz, all while ensuring my shoulders look sufficiently broad and that my suit jacket is tight enough to show my muscles—but not so fitted that I look like a sissy European.
Some might even say that the press is working on behalf of enemy nations—posting photos that reveal a receding hairline, hints of adult acne, and unhinged facial expressions. In the coming days, I’ll announce retaliatory measures against any member of the press who seeks to weaken America’s military strength by publishing photos of me struggling to complete a pull-up.
Our adversaries are watching closely. And if Iran sees a photo where my jawline disappears into my neck during a briefing, my hair is plastered to my forehead with sweat, or my eyes are half-closed, then the war is already over.