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How To Start Your Own Micronation

So, you’ve decided to start your own micronation. Congratulations! This is a big step in symbolically telling your country’s government to cram it with walnuts. Unless you’d like to actually tell your country’s government to cram it with walnuts. And you can do that, ‘cause you’re president of your own micronation now. See how that works? Now, founding your own country isn’t as easy as donning a “Dictator” sash and appointing your dog Prime Minister of Shitting in the Living Room (although, those are crucial pieces of the puzzle). Today, we’ll take you step-by-step on how to go from hungover and bored to tyrannical overlord.
 
 
Step 1: Design a Kickass Flag

Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia
 
“But wait! What about my new country’s ideals and principles! Don’t we need some kind of Constitution?” Easy there, Thomas Jefferson. You can’t just draw people into your wackadoo nonsense like it’s 1993 in Waco. This is 2013 - the world is about branding now. And if you want people to pledge allegiance, you’re going to need bold colors, an awesome logo, and some kind of awe-inspiring slogan. If you want a case study, check out the Aerican flag. The Aerican Empire - founded by a guy named Eric - has relied on its awesome banner to yield territorial claims all over the world, a population of over 400, and even a passport!
 
 
Step 2: Pick Out Your Title and Outfit

Photo by Chris Whitehead/Getty Images
 
Much like the executives of a startup app company, you are allowed to call yourself whatever you want. Try a few out, and see what jibes with your name. “Emperor.” “Grand Puba.”  “Dictator.” “Dreamboat.” “Professor Flex-Thrust”  “King.” KING! YOU COULD BE A KING! You could be a king. Isn’t that great!? Then, you’d need to dress the part. For instance, as a king, you would need a crown, of course, and a ruby-encrusted pinky ring for peasants to kiss, and maybe a - what are those things, cudgels? A scepter? Something for smiting. And you’d have to talk in a real lofty, flowery way and use the royal “we” all the time (as in, “we find this breakfast sandwich....pleasing”). That’s another thing - whenever giving your opinion, you’d have to pause for a real long time so the commoners would get nervous. And if you didn’t like something? You’d have to cut somebody’s head off.
 
...on second thought, let’s not be King. Especially since monarchs have a tendency to get all creepy. Kind of like Queen Patricia I of the Other World Kingdom, a micronation with (ahem) “strong BDSM and female dominance themes.” Their goal is (double ahem) “to get as many male creatures under the unlimited rule of Superior Women on as much territory as possible." Here’s where we’d crack a joke - if we weren’t thoroughly terrified of a severe whipping.
 
 
Step 3: Pick Out a Name
You might be wondering why choosing a name for your country is all the way down at step 3, but honestly, it’s the easiest step. Just take your name, or another word you like, and add an “-ia” or an “-onia” or an “-ossia” or something equally Latin-y sounding. For instance, if Stanley Kubrick started a micronation, he’d call it “Stankonia.” See? Just like that. But really, the sky's the limit here. Hell, you can just make up a gibberish word if you want. Take “Whangamomona,” a title that’s so good, it puts “whang” right next to “a mom.” (Incidentally, we love Whangamomona. They’ve had four presidents. Two have been human.)
 
 
Step 4: WAR!
This might seem like a hasty next step, but don’t forget, you’re the new country on the block, and nothing legitimizes a country so quickly as declaring a good ol’ fashioned scrum. Hey, if it was good enough for the US of A, it’s good enough for you, right? Wait, actually, no. The reason you’re leaving is because you’re done with those capitalist pigs. Ok, forget that.
 
Now, you might wonder how you can fight a war without soldiers, industry, commerce, and what have you. But don’t worry about that! After all, you can send your pets to do your fighting for you. They’re part of your land, and it’s time to conscript some new soldiers into the ranks. With regards to playing the numbers game, hey, you’re just the guy throwing a glass bottle across the bar. Once all hell breaks loose, you’ll be hiding away off in the corner. Meanwhile, everyone will remember you as our generation’s “guy who shot Franz Ferdinand” (not the band, the Archduke). Not sure who to battle? Consider what Kevin Baugh of Molossia did. He picked a well-known-yet-meaningless country - in this case, East Germany - and declared war. According to Baugh, the war has been going on continuously since 1983, and that was 30 years ago. When will this mindless bloodshed end??
 
 
Step 5: Indoctrination

Photo by iStockphoto

With your brave pets out sacrificing themselves in the Great War of Iceland, your country’s morale is plummeting. You need new soldiers! People who believe in the dreams of your country! Luckily, social media is robust and strong, and all you need is to hop on some internet message boards to recruit some fresh blood. After all, that’s what the Kingdom of Lovely did. They started their micronation via the internet, and they’ve got over 58,000 citizens! For your purposes, there are plenty of “Men for Men” and “Men for Women” sites out there. Just hop on, chat ‘em up, invite ‘em over, and give them some body armor for the pending battle. They may cost $9.95 an hour, and the horse rentals will require a $1,000 refundable deposit, but whatever, let the federal reserve worry about that. You need a proper invading force - to arms!
 
 
Step 6: Profit!

Photo by John Kieffer/Getty Images

By now, you’ve realized that other countries might not be taking you seriously. You’ve even received calls from the tourism bureau asking if you’d like to become a (shudder) tourist attraction. The nerve! Nobody can come into your country! Not without passports, anyway. But let’s face it, you can’t export any “oil” to the US, mostly because your drilling hasn’t yielded anything but more dog shit, which you can’t even get mad at because Scruffy died valiantly during the Siege at Reykjavik. The economy is tanking, and Standard & Poor’s has given you an FFFFF credit rating. (“You put the ‘Poor’ in ‘Standard and Poor’s, your highness,” deadpans your representative. He is summarily executed.)
 
And so, wearily...you accept. United States tourists can visit your land. They can take pictures and plant flowers at your dog’s grave. After all, you’re not the first micronation to field international guests like so. After all, L'Anse-Saint-Jean was founded entirely for tourism. And they’re proud, if a little French for our tastes. But the last laugh will be on them! With every international guest you welcome onto your fertile land, your coffers are being filled with comparatively strong American dollars (that is, compared to your “Party Pig Fun Bux”). And once your war machine is refilled, the next step is simple: Go back to step 4 and take down your enemies.
 
So that’s it! A quick and dirty guide for carving out your own niche on a world map. To prove that any idiot can do this, we figured we’d do it ourselves. So, we hereby declare our office the Oligarchy of New Maximia! Now, if anyone needs us, we’re going to be sending some nasty emails to Delaware. Oh, and please don’t tell our girlfriends we don’t live in the US anymore.

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