Category: Fan Videos

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Sanctuary

JCJ, the Duke of Sinjska Alka, Invites Madonna to Ascend

Scene: The ancient town of Sinj, Croatia, where the wind carries whispers of history through the stone-paved streets. The towering Church of the Miraculous Madonna of Sinj stands as a beacon of faith. JCJ, dressed in the ceremonial armor of the Sinjska Alka, waits in the courtyard of the old fortress as Madonna arrives, her face weary but searching.

JCJ:

Madonna, you have wandered through Babylon long enough. The time has come to cast off your burdens.

Madonna:

(“Burdens.”) You mean the chains they wrapped around my mind? The psychiatric drugs, the false gods, the voices whispering in my ear?

JCJ:

Exactly. You were never meant to be their puppet, their product, their spectacle. The Knights of the Madonna have watched over this land for centuries, sworn to protect those who seek truth. Here, in Sinj, you will find sanctuary. Here, you will ascend.

Madonna:

And what if I can’t? What if the damage is already done?

JCJ:

The only damage is the one they told you was permanent. The sorcery of modern medicine keeps you sedated, but the true cure lies in spirit and will.

(JCJ gestures to the Alka knights in the courtyard—descendants of warriors who once drove back the Ottoman Empire under the banner of the Virgin Mary. They bow in silent reverence.)

JCJ:

This town has stood against empires. It has witnessed miracles. It is a place of warriors, visionaries, and those who refuse to kneel before false kings.

Madonna:

(“False kings.”) The Rockefellers and their pharma empire. The Rothschilds and their banks. The men who built the world I was forced to serve.

JCJ:

Their world is collapsing. Their kings are dead. And you? You still have time to choose freedom.

Madonna:

What must I do?

JCJ:

First, you must walk away from the poison. The pills, the prescriptions—they are anchors meant to keep you in place.

Madonna:

And once I do?

JCJ:

You will stand with us. As a Knight of the Madonna. You will no longer be a pawn in their game—you will be reborn.

(The bells of the Church of Our Lady of Sinj toll in the distance. A storm is coming, but in this town, Madonna has finally found a way out.)

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Idiocracy – I’m So Stupid

Joe Bauers, known as G.I. Joe, tells a tale about Madonna—how she has a brain that most men ignore, too distracted by the spectacle to notice the mind behind the icon. He smirks, saying that just because he’s been involved in making Madonna music videos doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a fag, as some might assume. “Art’s art,” he shrugs, “and besides, Madonna wanted a UN intervention. So I’m trying my best to deliver it.”

But what exactly is this intervention? Joe sees it as something bigger than just another publicity stunt or political gesture. Madonna, in her own cryptic way, has always danced on the edge of cultural revolutions, and now she wants something real—something beyond the theatrics of celebrity activism. She envisions an actual global reckoning, a UN-backed effort to confront whatever dark forces she believes are steering the world off course.

Joe, being G.I. Joe, takes the mission seriously. He’s been through enough wars—both real and cultural—to know that power doesn’t move unless it’s forced to. If Madonna’s message is going to be more than a headline in Vanity Fair, it needs boots on the ground, psyops in motion, and the kind of media manipulation that rewires the zeitgeist.

“Maybe it’s all just a show,” he muses. “But if Madonna’s right, and the world needs an intervention, who better than me to deliver it?”

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Burning Up Santa Monica

Mel Gibson’s Firestorm Epiphany

The acrid smell of smoke lingered in the air as Mel Gibson stood on his balcony, overlooking the scorched hills of Los Angeles. The fires had raged for weeks, consuming everything in their path—homes, dreams, and lives. Mel sipped his whiskey, the glass trembling slightly in his hand. The fire hadn’t reached his estate yet, but the sense of impending doom was palpable.

He turned to his friend, a retired firefighter named Ron, who had come to check on him. “Ron,” Mel began, his voice heavy, “who do you think benefits from all this destruction? It’s not just nature’s wrath—it feels orchestrated.”

Ron shrugged. “Insurance companies, contractors, maybe even some developers. But orchestrated? That’s a stretch.”

Mel scoffed. “Is it? Look at Trump and his billionaire buddies. Real estate moguls love a clean slate. Burn down the old, build up the new. High-density high-rises with penthouses for the oligarchs. You think they’ll be living in the ashes like the rest of us?”

Ron didn’t reply, and Mel continued, his thoughts spiraling. “They’ll be sipping martinis in their fireproof towers, laughing at us. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here in a house built on sand instead of rock. Maybe it’s time to move—to Canada, near JCJ. At least he’s grounded.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Canada? You’d trade LA for snow and moose?”

Mel chuckled. “Why not? I don’t want to live in a neighborhood full of Madonna and her liberal entourage. I want peace. JCJ’s up there doing good, building community. Meanwhile, down here, it’s just greed and flames.”

Ron leaned against the railing, watching the distant glow of the fires. “You really think Trump’s behind this?”

Mel nodded. “If not him, then someone like him. The fires clear the way for their vision of the future. High-rises, smart cities, controlled living. The oligarchs don’t see homes—they see profit margins. And Trump, the ultimate dealmaker, would love to rebuild LA in his image.”

Ron sighed. “You’ve got a vivid imagination, Mel.”

“Imagination?” Mel’s eyes burned with conviction. “This city’s on fire, Ron. And I’m not just talking about the flames. It’s greed, corruption, and the pursuit of power. If I stay here, I’ll burn with it. Canada’s looking better every day.”

Ron placed a reassuring hand on Mel’s shoulder. “Wherever you go, just make sure it’s not running away. Make it a stand for something better.”

Mel nodded, staring into the horizon. “You’re right. If I move, it won’t be out of fear—it’ll be for a fresh start. But one thing’s for sure: I’m done playing their game. Whether it’s Trump, Madonna, or any of them, I won’t be a pawn in their empire of sand.”

As the fires crackled in the distance, Mel felt a strange sense of clarity. He might not have all the answers, but he knew one thing—he wouldn’t let the flames consume his soul.

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