Somewhere over the Middle East, a pair of caffeine-starved pilots locked in a flying Dorito declare “Mission Accomplished!” after obliterating what they swear was Iran’s nuclear program. And just like that—poof—decades of uranium dreams supposedly went up in smoke. But wait, cue the laugh track: no bomb camera footage, no body count, no glowing rubble selfies. Just a $2 billion batwing whispering sweet nothings to an American public so desensitized to seeing war on TV that they wouldn’t notice (or believe it) if Tehran lit up like a birthday cake.
To many non-believers, this isn’t warfare. This is performance art with bombs.
MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE PEANUT GALLERY…
Enter the mainstream media—portrayed here like they wandered out of a Starbucks job fair and into a Pentagon briefing. One wants a latte, another yawns like he’s watching C-SPAN on Ambien, and the rest dig for “evidence” like this was a traffic stop, not a stealth bombing run in the middle of the desert. Their skepticism is less Woodward and Bernstein, more TMZ lost on the tarmac. Asking a pilot for proof of nukes is like asking a shark for a receipt.
But make no mistake—Lang skewers both sides here. The bomber boys play GI Joe with a multi-billion-dollar toy, and the press responds like hungover interns at a debate club.
SATIRE STRIKES HARDER THAN A B-2
Today’s cartoon is more than a joke—it’s a flaming spear lobbed at the theater of modern war and its half-baked supporting cast.
You’ve got a bomber bragging about mileage like it’s a road trip to Burning Man, and a media chorus that wouldn’t know a nuclear centrifuge from a salad spinner.
It’s the perfect caricature of 2025: high-tech blitzkrieg meets clickbait apathy.
The bombs are smart, the questions are dumb, and somewhere in between lies whatever’s left of Iran’s uranium stash—assuming it wasn’t buried deeper than the Pentagon’s conscience.
Somewhere over the Middle East, a pair of caffeine-starved pilots locked in a flying Dorito declare “Mission Accomplished!” after obliterating what they swear was Iran’s nuclear program. And just like that—poof—decades of uranium dreams supposedly went up in smoke. But wait, cue the laugh track: no bomb camera footage, no body count, no glowing rubble selfies. Just a $2 billion batwing whispering sweet nothings to an American public so desensitized to seeing war on TV that they wouldn’t notice (or believe it) if Tehran lit up like a birthday cake.
To many non-believers, this isn’t warfare. This is performance art with bombs.
MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE PEANUT GALLERY…
Enter the mainstream media—portrayed here like they wandered out of a Starbucks job fair and into a Pentagon briefing. One wants a latte, another yawns like he’s watching C-SPAN on Ambien, and the rest dig for “evidence” like this was a traffic stop, not a stealth bombing run in the middle of the desert. Their skepticism is less Woodward and Bernstein, more TMZ lost on the tarmac. Asking a pilot for proof of nukes is like asking a shark for a receipt.
But make no mistake—Lang skewers both sides here. The bomber boys play GI Joe with a multi-billion-dollar toy, and the press responds like hungover interns at a debate club.
SATIRE STRIKES HARDER THAN A B-2
Today’s cartoon is more than a joke—it’s a flaming spear lobbed at the theater of modern war and its half-baked supporting cast.
You’ve got a bomber bragging about mileage like it’s a road trip to Burning Man, and a media chorus that wouldn’t know a nuclear centrifuge from a salad spinner.
It’s the perfect caricature of 2025: high-tech blitzkrieg meets clickbait apathy.
The bombs are smart, the questions are dumb, and somewhere in between lies whatever’s left of Iran’s uranium stash—assuming it wasn’t buried deeper than the Pentagon’s conscience.
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