The Armed Republic of Blonige is a massive, orderly nation, remarkable for its closed borders, avowedly heterosexual populace, and suspicion of poets. The hard-nosed, cynical, humorless, devout population of 1.262 billion Blonigeans are ruled without fear or favor by a psychotic dictator, who outlaws just about everything and refers to the populace as "my little playthings."

The medium-sized, corrupt, moralistic, well-organized government juggles the competing demands of Defense, Law & Order, and Administration. The average income tax rate is 59.4%, and even higher for the wealthy.

The all-consuming Blonigean economy, worth 216 trillion Leads a year, is driven entirely by a combination of government and state-owned industry, with private enterprise illegal. However, for those in the know, there is an enormous, deeply entrenched, broadly diversified black market in Arms Manufacturing, Uranium Mining, Retail, and Woodchip Exports. The private sector mostly consists of enterprising ten-year-olds selling lemonade on the sidewalk, but the government is looking at stamping this out. Average income is an impressive 171,562 Leads, and evenly distributed, with the richest citizens earning only 2.4 times as much as the poorest.

Squatters are reclaiming abandoned igloos, achieving blood purity involves a surprising amount of bloodshed, military instructors tire of being asked for another bedtime story by seven-year-old conscripts, and funerals are often rudely interrupted by juggling clowns shouting for volunteers from the audience. Crime, especially youth-related, is totally unknown, thanks to a very well-funded police force. Blonige's national animal is the Razorback, which teeters on the brink of extinction due to widespread deforestation.

Blonige is ranked 2,662^nd in the world and 8^th in Carcassonne for Fattest Citizens, with 39.92 Obesity Rate.