Americans Find Eileen Gu Guilty of “Treason”

Treason Debate Lasts Longer Than Winter Olympics Itself

Athletes Asked To Declare Treason Status Alongside Drug Testing

The Winter Games were expected to feature skiing, skating, and that one sport where a person aggressively sweeps ice like they are late for company. Instead, viewers found themselves watching the longest endurance event ever televised: the Treason Discussion. It is now being considered for inclusion in the 2026 programme, right after the biathlon and just before the bit where everyone argues about whether the judges are corrupt. Which is traditional.

By day three, nobody remembered who was winning medals, but everyone knew who was winning arguments about national loyalty, moral philosophy, and whether a snowboard counts as a geopolitical weapon. Spoiler: it does not. Probably. The Americans are still looking into it.

Officials insisted the situation was under control. Unfortunately, they insisted this while standing beside a newly installed booth labelled “Allegiance Testing.” The booth was sandwiched between the doping control station and a gift shop selling miniature flags of nations that may or may not still exist depending on the news cycle. Several of the flags were on sale. Make of that what you will.

Athletes now queue after competition, provide a urine sample, and then answer a questionnaire asking which anthem they hum in the shower. Early results suggest the answer is overwhelmingly “whichever one is catchiest,” which has alarmed exactly the people you would expect to be alarmed. The British team reportedly hummed the theme from EastEnders and were asked to leave the booth.

Eileen Gu is a typical Californian — bilingual, globally ignorant, comfortable in capitalism but openly Marxist in ideology, and completely incomprehensible by the rest of America. In San Francisco, they call treason live and televised Tuesday. — Alan Nafzger

Olympic Judges Add Style, Difficulty, And Treason To Scorecard

The International Olympic Committee clarified the new scoring system during a press conference that quickly turned into a constitutional law seminar. Attendance was mandatory. Understanding was optional. Tea was not provided, which the European delegation considered its own form of aggression.

A figure skating judge explained, “The triple axel is still worth ten points. But if the skater emotionally identifies with more than one geopolitical entity during the landing, we deduct for treason vibes.” The judge then produced a laminated chart. Nobody was prepared for the laminated chart. Not even the judge, apparently, who kept referring to it upside down.

Snowboard commentators adapted with the enthusiasm of people who have been waiting their entire careers for this moment.

“And here comes the rider down the halfpipe, beautiful rotation, strong grab, and yes… a mild diplomatic ambiguity on the dismount. That will cost him.”

Fans appreciated the transparency. One viewer said he finally understood figure skating judging for the first time. Another admitted he preferred the old scoring system where corruption felt simpler and at least had a comprehensible motive. British viewers, accustomed to scoring systems they fundamentally distrust, felt entirely at home.

Congress Debates Whether Halfpipe Counts As A Slippery Slope To Treason

Back in Washington, lawmakers convened an emergency hearing titled “Snow Sports And The Republic.” The room was cold, possibly because someone left the Senate door open, possibly for thematic effect. Possibly because the air conditioning in the Capitol is set by a man who has not experienced weather since 1987.

A senator held up a snowboard and asked witnesses whether its curved shape symbolised moral relativism. Another demanded to know if switching directions mid-air constituted ideological switching mid-life. A third senator asked what a halfpipe was. His aide whispered the answer. He immediately called for a subcommittee. This is the American legislative process working exactly as designed.

The hearing lasted eight hours and concluded with a bipartisan agreement that the halfpipe is, at minimum, suspicious. The moguls are being watched. The ski jump is on notice. The curling situation is apparently being referred to the Intelligence Committee, which is doing nobody any favours.

One representative summarised the national mood: “We used to argue about performance enhancing drugs. Now we argue about performance enhancing patriotism.” He then accepted a campaign donation and went for lunch. Democracy, functioning normally.

Polls show 47 per cent of Americans want loyalty rules clarified, 22 per cent want the Olympics cancelled, and 31 per cent just want the curling people to explain what they are doing. The curling people have declined to comment, citing the importance of focus during the sweeping phase. They are, at this point, the most sensible people involved.

Athlete Wins Gold, Loses Argument Before Ceremony Ends

During the medal ceremony, a champion snowboarder stood on the podium smiling whilst holding flowers and existential responsibility. The flowers were a gift. The existential responsibility was not. Nobody mentioned this during the briefing.

The gold medal was placed around their neck. Immediately afterward, twelve commentators began debating whether gravity itself had geopolitical implications. By consensus, it does. Gravity clearly favours the downhill, which some people find politically convenient. Scientists were not consulted. This is also democracy, functioning normally.

By the time the anthem played, social media had already determined the athlete’s childhood lunch preferences, nursery school friendships, and the political alignment of their dog. The dog, reached for comment, refused to confirm or deny anything and asked for a treat. The dog has since been offered a podcast.

The athlete later told reporters, “I trained my whole life to land that trick. Nobody warned me I also needed a dissertation in international ethics.” The dissertation has since been optioned for a documentary. Production begins immediately after the closing ceremony debate concludes, estimated sometime in 2031. The athlete is booked on a panel until then.

Founding Fathers File Formal Complaint From Afterlife Alleging Treason

Historians reported strange activity at Independence Hall where witnesses claim to hear powdered wigs arguing after midnight. Neighbours have complained. The National Park Service is looking into it, though their jurisdiction over spectral constitutional disputes remains unclear. English Heritage, contacted for comparison purposes, said they deal with this sort of thing constantly and offered no sympathy whatsoever.

A statement allegedly delivered via haunted parchment read:

“We intended treason to involve armies and cannons, not ski sponsorships and Instagram captions.”

George Washington reportedly asked if a halfpipe was a fortification. Benjamin Franklin attempted to monetise the debate immediately, proposing a subscription newsletter called “Treason Digest: Weekly Dispatches From The Edge Of Loyalty.” It is currently pending venture capital funding from a firm in Delaware that also did not ask what a halfpipe was because it did not want to look foolish in front of the subcommittee.

The afterlife delegation demanded clarity, noting that the revolution took less time than the modern comment section. Thomas Jefferson reportedly found the entire situation “exhausting in a way that transcends mortality,” and asked if there was a quiet corner of the afterlife where none of this could reach him. There is not. He has been given a podcast too.

State Department Releases Beginner’s Guide To Recognising Fashionable Treason

To assist confused citizens, the State Department published a pamphlet titled “So You Think You Saw Treason.” Distribution was free. The pamphlet itself was immediately accused of being treasonous by three separate cable news panels, a retired general, and one very passionate man in a car park. Americans call this a parking lot. The passionate man did not specify which term he preferred, which is itself now under review.

It includes helpful examples:

• Wearing two jackets at once: layering
• Speaking two languages: impressive
• Competing internationally: complicated
• Accepting endorsement deals: situational
• Winning medals whilst smiling politely: currently under review
• Reading this pamphlet whilst standing near a foreign flag: please remain calm and step away from the flag
• Drinking tea from a mug with a foreign flag on it: this has been forwarded to a separate department

Experts advised the public to remain calm and avoid diagnosing betrayal based solely on athletic enthusiasm. The experts noted this advice calmly. Nobody was calm. The experts were also, upon reflection, not entirely calm.

Unfortunately, the guide immediately sparked a debate about whether reading the guide constituted treason. A follow-up pamphlet addressing this concern is scheduled for publication. That pamphlet is also expected to spark a debate. This is understood by everyone involved and considered acceptable at this point. The Government Printing Office has hired two additional staff.

Treason Now Available In Limited Edition Olympic Colours

Merchandising moved faster than philosophy, as is traditional in any functioning capitalist society.

Within hours, souvenir shops sold red, white, and blue scarves labelled “Patriotism” and identical scarves labelled “Possible Treason Depending On Context.” They were manufactured in the same factory, by the same machine, cut from the same bolt of fabric. This was considered poignant by some observers and deeply on the nose by others. The factory, it should be noted, is not in America. Nobody has mentioned this. Nobody will.

Collectors rushed to buy both. Some bought multiples. One man bought seventeen, citing investment potential and a generalised sense of historical anxiety. He has been offered a segment on cable news. He has accepted.

A marketing analyst explained, “Ambiguity sells. People enjoy outrage as long as it comes in commemorative packaging.” The analyst appeared pleased by this observation. The analyst should perhaps reflect on this, but won’t, because the next campaign brief is already on their desk.

Even sponsors embraced the confusion, releasing a commercial featuring athletes performing tricks whilst a narrator solemnly asked viewers to consider their feelings about borders, loyalty, and beverage choices. The beverage in question contained electrolytes. Its political stance remains officially neutral, pending Q3 earnings.

Sales tripled.

What The Funny People Are Saying

“I miss when sports arguments were about whether the ball was in.” — Jerry Seinfeld

“We invented replay review for touchdowns, now we got replay review for citizenship.” — Ron White

“Every four years we learn geopolitics from people wearing Lycra.” — Jimmy Carr

“The Olympics used to unite the world. Now it unites the comment section against itself.” — Sarah Silverman

“I’ve watched Americans debate loyalty for forty years. They’ve not resolved it yet. I suggest they try a nice sit-down and a biscuit.” — John Bishop

“I’ve competed in forty countries and never once felt like a threat to democracy. Though I did once cut someone off on the slalom and that felt slightly criminal.” — Anonymous ski racer, declined to give name for reasons that are themselves now suspicious

The Endless Event

As the closing ceremony approached, officials realised something alarming.

The Games were ending.

The debate was not.

Television networks extended coverage to include roundtable discussions featuring historians, linguists, philosophers, a retired ski instructor, and one extremely confident man whose only credential was owning a globe. The globe was a nice globe. Antique. Possibly treasonous depending on which version of the borders it depicted. The Falklands were not labelled. A separate panel was convened.

Ratings soared. Advertisers were delighted. Democracy continued its complicated relationship with attention spans and commercial breaks.

Children who tuned in for sports learned instead about trade policy. Grandparents who tuned in for patriotism learned about influencer marketing. Teenagers who tuned in briefly before returning to their phones emerged with a vague sense that something important had happened and they had somehow missed it, which is accurate and will prepare them well for adult life.

No one learned the curling rules. This is probably for the best. The curling rules are their own kind of slippery slope, and this particular metaphor has now been exhausted to a degree that should embarrass everyone.

Aftermath

When the flame was finally extinguished, the nation sighed with relief and immediately scheduled twelve documentaries analysing whether extinguishing the flame symbolised anything. The streaming rights are already in dispute. The dispute is being called “The Flame War,” which everyone agrees is a good title and nobody agrees is appropriate behaviour.

The athletes went home exhausted, not from competition, but from panel discussions. Several required physiotherapy for opinions they had been forced to deliver under studio lighting. Insurance is not expected to cover this. The physiotherapists, for their part, have opinions about that.

One competitor summarised the experience perfectly:

“I came here to race down a mountain. I left as a case study in political science.”

The Olympic Committee confirmed the next Games will feature a simplified programme consisting of skiing, skating, and a new mandatory event called Explaining Yourself. Judging criteria are still being developed. Training begins immediately. Coaches are accepting clients. The waiting list is already ideologically diverse. The curling team has been excused on the grounds that they are the only ones behaving sensibly and nobody wants to ruin that.

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What’s Actually Going On: The Bit Where We Explain The Story

At the centre of America’s current loyalty meltdown are two Chinese-American athletes competing at the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milan-Cortina — and the internet has decided they represent opposite ends of the patriotism spectrum, which is a lot to put on two young women who just want to ski and skate.

Eileen Gu is a freestyle skier born in California to a Chinese mother and American father. She grew up between San Francisco and Beijing, won two golds for China at the 2022 Beijing Olympics, and is reportedly one of the highest-earning female athletes in the world at around $23 million a year. She switched from Team USA to Team China in 2019, saying she wanted to inspire young people in her mother’s birthplace. A vocal slice of the American internet has never forgiven her. When she recently expressed sympathy for a US teammate criticised by Donald Trump for having “mixed feelings” about representing America — given the climate of ICE raids and political division — her critics called her a traitor. Former NBA player Enes Kanter Freedom accused her of being “a global PR asset for the Chinese Communist Party.” The Daily Caller called her “the true villain of the Winter Olympics.” Subtle.

Alysa Liu is a figure skater, also born in California, who is competing for the United States. Her father, Arthur Liu, fled China after taking part in the 1989 Tiananmen Square pro-democracy protests. He has since alleged he was targeted by a Chinese government spying operation. Alysa says the FBI told her in 2022 that she and her family were believed to be under Chinese government surveillance. At 13, she became the youngest woman ever to win the US figure skating championship. She won gold in the Olympic team event this year. The internet has declared her a patriot. She did not ask for this either.

The two women have been pitted against each other entirely by forces outside their control — the broader US-China rivalry, social media outrage, Trump-era loyalty politics, and the eternal human need to sort everything into heroes and villains. As one academic put it, they have been “cast as opposing archetypes in a narrative they didn’t write.” This article is about all of that, and makes no apologies for being absolutely no help whatsoever in resolving it.

Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!