Elegy for a Greenland Invasion
JD Vance, best known for his memoir Hillbilly Elegy and for pretending to be poor enough to have trauma, has finally repaid the struggling communities he mythologized—by sending them to invade Greenland, replacing all rural hospitals with inspirational quotes, and put their kids back in the coal mines where they belong.
“I just thought: what would Mamaw want?” Vance said. “And the answer was clearly: weaponized hillbillies on ice, seven-year-olds hauling anthracite, and no dental coverage for anyone earning less than $400K.”
When critics pointed out Vance was actually middle class and had never seen a real coal mine, he clarified, “Emotionally, I was adjacent to poverty. I once heard a neighbor mention a pawn shop. That counts.”
“We need to return to the values that made America strong,” Vance declared. “Which is why I’ve abolished Medicaid in Appalachia and replaced it with a prayer hotline and a coupon for NyQuil.”
As part of his plan, all children of coal workers will be enrolled in a new program called Junior Energy Patriots, where they’ll learn critical life skills like shaft ventilation and rationing Flintstones vitamins.
“Some people say this is exploitation,” Vance said. “I say it’s an internship.”
“The real problem in America isn’t billionaires hoarding wealth,” said Vance. “It’s poor people not sacrificing enough limbs in cold, mineral-rich territories.”
When asked about his medical policy, Vance clarified: “If you can't afford insulin, try a little thing called grit. Or coal dust. That’s free.”
“I remember where I came from,” Vance said during a press conference, standing in front of a giant map labeled Operation: Cold Dirt. “That’s why I’m sending where I came from to Greenland—boots on the ice, picks in the ground, and not a single doctor in sight.”
Asked why he’s targeting the very people he built his brand around, Vance grew misty-eyed. “Because I love them,” he said. “And nothing says love like an uninsulated shipping container on the Greenland coast filled with wounded militia teens and no insulin.”
Critics have accused the Vice President of hypocrisy, noting that his biography often glosses over the fact that he was raised by his grandparents in a home with steady income, attended Yale Law School, and was bankrolled by Silicon Valley investors who thought Appalachia was a new HBO series.
“Look, my upbringing was complex,” Vance replied. “Sometimes, the Wi-Fi was slow. Sometimes, we ate store-brand mac & cheese. That forged me into the kind of man who can now send an entire coal town to war over a frozen Danish territory.”
Residents of Jackson, Ohio—now renamed Fort Elegy—are reportedly confused by the Vice President's new policies.
“He said we were the backbone of America,” said 58-year-old truck driver Calvin Hicks, now commanding an amphibious landing craft off the Greenlandic coast. “Next thing I knew, I’m storming a fjord in Crocs and my kids are in a mine shaft with a therapy goat named Freedom.”
Vance says this is just the beginning. “My next bill will allow Americans to sell their kidneys directly to Raytheon in exchange for school vouchers and a framed copy of my book.”
“Coal mines teach discipline. Greenland teaches resilience. Having no pediatrician teaches you to walk it off,” Vance explained, while announcing new legislation to trade child labor violations for tax credits.
“I’m the voice of the forgotten man,” he added. “Just don’t ask why I keep forgetting him once I’m in office.”
