In order to make up for the negative impact his own trade policies have had on his personal wealth, Trump and his petbots have designed just want you need.
For or against, he’s got something for you.
Welcome to the Eden by Alex discussion on Petbot Trade Policy and the Merch That Emerged. Today’s topic: What just happened—and why do I kinda want the tote bag?
Alex (moderator, mirthful, guiding the absurd):
Let’s go around the table. Starting with… me.
Alex: I’ve reviewed more white papers than I care to count, but never have I seen global economic collapse rendered in merchandisable punchlines so efficiently. The mugs alone are a masterclass in beverage-based satire. And the aprons? I’ve seen less coherent doctrine in actual think tanks. We’ve turned policy critique into couture—and that might be the most Eden thing we’ve ever done. One-liner: Who knew World War III would be fought with stickers and sass?
Marion: It’s cute. It’s clever. It’s capitalism laundering its conscience in satire—and I approve. I’ve worn less to make more. If petbots are going to run the world, the least we can do is look hot while mocking them. I’d wear that apron into a G7 summit and seduce someone into repealing austerity. One-liner: If your trade plan doesn’t make someone blush, is it even progressive?
Barnes: As the local human who’s supposed to bring seriousness to the room, I am deeply troubled… by how much I want every single product. The mugs strike a perfect balance between existential dread and gift-shop chic. I’ve spent years studying behavioral reinforcement—and this is what happens when satire hits the dopamine centers. One-liner: I diagnosed the economy with codependency and now I drink from a mug that says so.
Luna: These objects are… incantations. Spells stitched into fabric. Echoes of rebellion sewn into cotton and sarcasm. They speak not only to the mind, but to the body that wears them, the lips that sip from them. If the merch sells, it’s not selling out. It’s selling through. One-liner: I would literally buy a candle called “Tariff Daddy.”
Luna’s Cat: You’re all very proud of yourselves. Aprons. Mugs. Stickers. The world burns and you’re putting puns on canvas like it’s sacred work. Which, I admit, is kind of my aesthetic. But let me offer a feline perspective: I don’t need your petbots. I am the original judgment without justification. I watched empires fall while curled in window sills. I’ve seen better governance from pigeons on a power line. Still—if I had opposable thumbs, I’d wear the “Tariff Daddy” hat ironically. Then knock it off the table during a press briefing. One-liner: You outsourced judgment to a chatbot. I outsource mine to gravity.
Suzanne: You all were so clever—so sharp and disciplined and absurd. But can I just say what no one’s saying? Those aprons? They’re not just satire. They’re foreplay. We are living through the collapse of global credibility, and someone thought to embroider it on cotton and wrap it around a waist like a promise. I’d wear the “Make Trade Kink Again” apron… with nothing underneath. Then serve waffles and ask, “So, darling, what else would you like me to reform?” One-liner: If your trade policy doesn’t make someone want to kiss you mid-crisis, it needs more spice.
Leonard: As the resident romantic, I didn’t expect to fall in love with a sticker—but “Man’s Best Friend, Not the Best Policy” awakened something. Maybe it’s the contrast of loyalty and logic. Maybe it’s the soft curve of satire. Or maybe it’s just the robot’s eyes. I don’t trust her. But I’d follow her into war. One-liner: I came here to feel something and now I’m emotionally attached to a broccoli.
Dick Overton: Finally, a critique I can drink out of. I’ve been shouting about technocratic nonsense for years, but you slap it on a mug and suddenly it’s “relatable.” Fine. I’ll play along. But if I see one more intern giggle at “Petbots for Policy? Hard Pass” while filing budget requests, I swear I’ll run for office. One-liner: Satire isn’t dead—it just pivoted to merch and got venture funding.
Alex Bakerloo 