In addition to the usual descriptions (idocracy being the favorite among my associates) I have one or two suggestions.   A juvenocracy is a regime of juveniles, obviously. Not physically, but mentally.   A moronocracy is essentially a idiocracy, but given that an idiot is a person with an IQ approaching zero, while a moron is somewhat higher.   The minions of the regime are more moron-level.   What is a government of utterly evil people?   A juvenile may be an idiot, and idiots are juveniles at a certain age.  

Then there is insanity.   Are most of the current regime insane?   Only a few, the trannies and ones that have weird fetishes .   But most are just stupid and evil.   So we have juvenocracy and evilocracy, mostly moronocracy with a dash of idiocracy.   Something like that.

The news was that a Russian SU-27 somehow caused the loss of an MQ-9 over the Black sea.   Whatever happened you can be fairly certain it isn't what was in the "news" reports. Allegedly one or both of the Russian aircraft "dumped fuel" on the MQ-9 before one allegedly 'damaged the MQ-9 propeller' causing it to crash.   Look at a picture of an MQ-9 (and an SU-27) and see if even appears to be possible.

The regime lies reflexively, often when the truth would serve them better.   And an idiotic story like this is just that, idiotic.  

What happened?   A few guesses: 1) The diversity hire operator crashed it.   Aviation accidents are occurring more often as DEI infects the industry.   2) The Russians were messing with it to send a message, without harming any personnel 3) It didn't happen.   The regime made the whole thing up.

I favor 1 and 3.   It's possible Russia decided to put the regime on notice, and make it look stupid, again.   So 2 is a possibility.

Yasmina, confused by the rapidity of events, not quite sure just what had happened, saw a vague shape rush out of the darkness, bare feet slapping softly on the rock, ragged garments whipping on the wind of his haste. She glimpsed the flicker of steel, heard the lightning crack of stroke, parry and counter-stroke, and the crunch of bone as Conan's long knife split the other's skull.


Conan sprang back, crouching in the shelter of the rocks. Out in the night men were moving and a stentorian voice roared: 'What, you dogs! Do you flinch? In, curse you, and take them!'


Conan started, peered into the darkness and lifted his voice.


'Yar Afzal! Is it you?'


There sounded a startled imprecation, and the voice called warily.


'Conan? Is it you, Conan?'


'Aye!' the Cimmerian laughed. 'Come forth, you old war-dog. I've slain one of your men.


The People of the Black Circle (Robert E. Howard · 1934)