Dusty Gulch Gazette Special Dispatch

“The Art of the Iceworm Deal: From Venezuela to Orangeland”

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble - Rodent Correspondent-at-Large
January 7, 2026

Ah, dear readers - it’s me, Roderick “Whiskers” McNibble, scurrying back from the cheese cellar with the latest scoop on this icy saga. My whiskers have been twitching overtime, and not just because the Dusty Dingo Pub hasn’t cleaned behind the fireplace since 1994.

Yesterday -  mark it down -  the Big Orange Cheese himself doubled down harder than a walrus on thin ice.

Fresh from that Venezuelan escapade -  where U.S. forces swooped in like a bald eagle on a " defenseless "  fish and nabbed Maduro -  President Trump leapt aboard Air Force One and declared:

“We need Greenland from the standpoint of national security!”

He even grumbled that Denmark isn’t pulling its weight, adding only “one more dog sled” to Arctic defense.

Europe Goes Frostbitten

The Danes? Not amused.

Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen said -  in diplomat-speak but with fangs:

“Stop the threats -  Greenland is not for sale!”

Greenland’s own Jens-Frederik Nielsen followed up with:

“Enough! No more fantasies of annexation.”

He labelled any comparison to Venezuela “disrespectful,” which is polite Danish for “Cut it out, Donald, but you still scare the shit out of me.”

Meanwhile, Europe’s in shiver mode, whispering about NATO cracking like thin ice if tensions build.

Orangeland Is Born

But MAGA world?  We’re already redecorating the map.

Once a joke -  “Orangeland” -  it’s now a catchphrase:

• Icebergs with an orange tint

• Nuuk rebranded “New Mar-a-Lago North”

• Polar bears issued golf carts

One superfan even posted a mock-travel poster:
“Visit Orangeland -  We’ll Thaw You Out.”

My whiskers may never recover.

Back in Dusty Gulch

Which brings us to our own desert think tank -  the Dusty Dingo Pub, where the carpet moves on its own (don’t ask) and gossip travels faster than a dust storm burying three fence lines and a Toyota Hi Lux heading to town to pick up a slab of beer.

Last night, local dicator and custodian of Trevor the Wallaby's kneecaps ( more on that in a later article )  Prentis Penjani slammed his glass on the sticky bar and declared:

“If America can buy Greenland, we’re buying Queensland!”

Old mate Tuckett the toothless , retired ringer and one time shearing champion, briefly woke up, muttered something about convicts, and went back to sleep.

Why Greenland? A Rodent Explains

Penjani -  and recently arrived head honcho Honlander Ahmate Ulla Dulla -  missed the message: I explained it in classic Dusty Gulch logic:

• Greenland has ice, minerals, and room for things the neighbours shouldn’t see

• The media goes bananas

• And Trump gets to watch journalists chase their tails

Dusty Gulch nodded knowingly. That’s how Penjani always starts: and then introduces local bylaws:

• Rename the sewerage ponds after our Crime Minister " The Albo Sleazy Ponds " 

• While quietly building a fourth shed on town land and sending bills to all residents for non mowing compliance. Toom Beah or Not Toombeah? That is a question. 

Iceworms: Nature’s Weirdest Asset

Now, here’s where whiskers quiver:

Forget glaciers, puffins and codfish. The real prize is whispered over three rounds of moonshine over-proof emu brew:

The Iceworms.

Legend holds they:

• Are the colour of cold regret from when a certain colt got away

• Chew through ice faster than a bureaucrat reverses policy

• And might someday power:

  • Refrigeration

  • Mining

  • And, briefly, kebabs (until screaming halted trials as locals reminded Ahmate Ulla Dulla that Dusty Gulch had a no kebab rule in a burger and steak sandwich zone )

Project Iceworm — The Secret History

This isn’t fantasy.

In the swinging ’60s, the U.S. Army actually tried it.

They built Camp Century -  21 tunnels, 3 km long, under the ice:

• Barracks

• A church

• A barber shop

• And a portable nuclear reactor humming away

Officially? A happy Arctic research lab.

Secretly? A plan to hide 600 mobile nuclear missiles in shifting tunnels, closer to Moscow.

Mother Nature had the last squeak:

• Ice moves

• Tunnels collapsed

• Engineers gave up

• Project canceled

• Waste buried

• Denmark kept in the dark

Today Camp Century sleeps deeper under the ice like a frozen time capsule -  NASA pinged it with radar in 2024 -  still sealed, still slowly sinking.

Modern revival? Ha! You’d have better luck teaching a platypus to yodel.

The Real Strategy: Guest House Diplomacy

And here’s the truth beneath the orange snowdrifts:

Trump doesn’t need to buy Greenland.

Just like that Venezuelan ranch where the U.S. didn’t seize the farmhouse -  just negotiated access to the guest house, the shed, and the driveway -  America can get what it needs without taking the deed.

All Washington wants is:

• A legal key to the property

• Storage space

• And an Arctic landing strip no one argues about

Owning is messy. Access is power.

Greenland becomes:

• NATO’s chilliest Airbnb

• A strategic lookout between Russia, Europe and Santa

• The perfect fridge for nuclear ambitions -  literal or metaphorical

And whether you love him, hate him, or consider him the world’s most chaotic stand-up comedian - Trump plays the media like a banjo dipped in kerosene. Or low grade Venezealan oil. 

Meanwhile in Dusty Gulch

Penjani has already written to the White House offering:

• A shared custodial arrangement

• Unlimited Dusty Gulch iceworm intellectual property (pending existence)

• President Trump's knees returned ( stolen by AI when making an image but rumoured to be somewhere in a jar in the dusty Dingo ) - more on that later

• And naming rights to the World’s Largest Meat Pie Festival

So far, silence.

But the locals know one thing:

Sometimes you don’t need the mansion. Just the spare room with a key, a working fridge, and a place to hide your bags.

And as the iceworms say -  or would, if they weren’t frozen stiff:

“Location. Location. Location.”

Until the next cold scoop,
Roderick “Whiskers” McNibble
Sand-in-my-fur Correspondent, Dusty Gulch Gazette
back to the burrow before someone mistakes me for an iceworm and tries to put me in a kebab