Trump rips U.S. Space Command out of Colorado and dumps it in Alabama — not for strategy, not for readiness, but for votes and vengeance, a move so dumb even von Braun would choke on his schnapps.
A Letter to Wernher von Braun, from the Belly of Rocket City
Dear Herr Doktor,
If you can hear me from whatever corner of hell you’re tinkering in, I hope you’re enjoying the spectacle: your beloved Rocket City is about to inherit the crown jewel of American military space bureaucracy — U.S. Space Command.
Yes, they’re uprooting it from the mountains of Colorado Springs, where the air is thin, the satellites are tracked, and the generals already have their coffee mugs broken in — and dropping it in Alabama, where football is king, politics is bloodsport, and space is just another prop for campaign rallies.
Trump stood up, grinning like a used-car dealer with a trunk full of plutonium, and said he was “thrilled” to announce the move to Huntsville. Forever to be known as Rocket City! he bellowed, as if he were renaming the planet.
He even admitted politics played a role — a rare moment of honesty from a man who thinks honesty is for losers and tax auditors. “I only won Alabama by 47 points,” he bragged, like a bookie telling you the fix was in.
And Colorado? The problem, he said, was mail-in voting. That’s right, Herr Doktor, the gold standard of American democracy is now the reason we’re shuffling billion-dollar military installations around like whiskey glasses on a bar top.
Not readiness, not taxpayer dollars, not the fact that Space Command is already fully operational in Colorado Springs — no, it’s mail-in ballots. Trump says they’re crooked. He says Colorado can’t be trusted.
He might as well have said the mountains offended his hair.
Former Colorado Springs mayor John Suthers, a Republican mind you, called the move “disappointing.” Disappointing? Jesus wept. When a drunk driver takes your Cadillac and rams it into a ditch, you don’t call it “disappointing.”
You call it sabotage.
Suthers politely reminded the country that from a national defense standpoint, it makes no sense. That’s political code for this is insane. And he’s right — it’s lunacy with a parade permit.
Phil Weiser, the Colorado Attorney General, says he’s ready to fight it in court. He might win, but by then the bureaucrats will already be pricing barbecue joints for their farewell parties.
Meanwhile, the whole project stalls. Operational readiness gets disrupted. Taxpayers foot the bill. Soldiers and their families pack up their lives because one man wants to stick it to a state that wouldn’t lick his boots.
Herr Doktor, you’d recognize this madness. You came from a land where politics bent science into grotesque shapes, where rockets built for exploration became V-2s raining hell on London.
Now, in America, rockets are being moved across the map like poker chips because a president lost Colorado three times and won Alabama three times. You would have understood the logic, if not admired the stupidity.
The irony is sharp enough to cut steel: the command charged with defending America’s future in space is being grounded by the pettiest politics imaginable.
You can almost hear the laughter from Moscow and Beijing. Not at our rockets — those still fly — but at our leadership, which treats the heavens like a campaign stop.
So rest easy, Wernher. Your Rocket City is back in the headlines. But not because of Saturn V or moon landings. No — because we’ve managed to turn national defense into a traveling circus.
Yours in cosmic despair,
A Citizen of the Republic
