IN the sun-scorched high desert of Northern Nevada lies a tiny self-declared country with its very own dictator and armed forces.

Welcome to Molossia, a unique 11-acre realm boasting its own time zone, a currency backed by cookie dough, a prohibition on catfish, unregulated sports, and a navy that patrols remote lakes using kayaks.

Presiding over this micronation with pride is Kevin Baugh, who has proclaimed himself as the president, founder, dictator, and architect of the Republic of Molossia.

Molossia (not to be confused with any real-world state) has stood – albeit somewhat unofficially – since May 26, 1977.

It is so small that it equals to a tenth of the size of Vatican City, the world’s smallest country.

Inspired by the satirical Cold War film The Mouse that Roared, teenage Kevin and his friend James created their own fictional country.

He told The Sun: “Back then, Molossia was known as the Grand Republic of Vuldstein.

“King James was the king, and I was prime minister.”

While James moved on, Kevin stayed on the course.

In 1988, upon acquiring land in Nevada, Molossia found a physical home.

Since then, the desert realm has been steadily growing, one eccentric decree at a time.

A sovereign state – with cookie dough currency

Molossia possesses all the elements of a sovereign nation, including its own flag, passports, a national garden, and the distinctive Valora currency, which finds its value in cookie dough.

“People kind of see this as a joke, but then they come here and see the customs station and cookie-dough money, and they start to go, ‘Hey, this is kind of a real place,’” Baugh said.

The nation has a total population of 38 – 37 humans and one dog – and citizenship is strictly limited to Baugh’s family, whether by blood or marrying in.

Molossia even has its own timezone, known as Molossian Standard Time, separate from the US and observed only within its tight borders.

“We like to be unique and unusual,” Baugh explained.

And customs? Yes, there’s even a checkpoint.

“There’s a variety of things you can’t bring into Molossia… like walruses or catfish,” the dictator said.

Why catfish?

“We got bumped from a magazine article in favor of one about noodling catfish with your bare hands.

“So I banned catfish. Easy to ban something you don’t actually have.”

Molossia welcomes daily visitors between April and October, and some famous faces have stopped by to check the tiny nation out.

Baugh revealed: “Jack Black visited in 2015 as a part of a micronation movie that he was planning to make at that time.  He visited with a rather a large entourage, all related to the movie.

“The movie was to be roughly based on Molossia, of which he had been aware for over 10 years prior.  

“It was a great visit, and he is a fun guy. It appears now that probably the movie won’t be made but again it was wonderful having him visit Molossia.”

Dryland regattas, broom ball, and burning the Guy

Despite living under a dictatorship, residents of Molossia enjoy traditions that are more whimsical rather than oppressive.

Take the Misfit Regatta, a dry land boat race every two years where cardboard “boats” race across a dry lakeboard.

Or broom ball, a lawless national sport featuring brooms, chaos ,a nd minimal structure.

Baugh explained: “It’s a sport with no rules… sword fights with broomsticks if you want.

“Games last 10 minutes because it’s so exhausting.”

And then there’s Guy Fawkes Night, the British tradition of burning an effigy of the infamous rebel.

Why celebrate it? Baugh explained: “Well, because it’s fun.

“Most Molossians are provided their own Guy… we have knockoff English food and burn the Guy in a bonfire.”

There’s also Moon Pie Day in September, a sugary twist on the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival.

“Instead of the moon festival, it’s the moon pie festival – and we eat those,” said the Molossian leader.

“We have no problem culturally appropriating, especially if it involves food.”

At war with a country that no longer exists

Molossia is, bizarrely, at war with East Germany.

Yes, the country that hasn’t officially existed since 1990. But Baugh insists the conflict is unresolved.

“I declared war on East Germany in the early 1980s when I was stationed in West Germany with the US Army. Got tired of being woken up for drills at 2 am,” he said.

Years later, Baugh rediscovered the declaration in a box.

He explained: “Turns out East Germany still exists… sort of.

“There’s a tiny island off Cuba that was East German territory, never addressed during reunification.

“It’s uninhabited – just marine iguanas – but technically, the war continues.”

On Molossia’s official website, you can even find war bonds to support the war against East Germany in the value of 10 valora.

But don’t worry if you’re short on cookie dough as the website accepts PayPal.

The lake navy & space agency

Molossia’s military might lies not in an army, but in its unlikely Navy.

“We tried having an Army, but the US Olympic Committee used it against us. We tried having an Air Force, but the plane never flew, and anyway it was too small to fit anyone inside,” Baugh wrote on his website.

Instead, the landlocked nation fields a naval force made up of five boats, primarily kayaks, tasked with exploring lakes and reservoirs across the western desert.

“Our goal with the Molossian Navy is to explore those watery places that dot the western landscape like gems in the sand,” the official website states.

Despite its desert location, Baugh insists the Navy is ready to defend Molossia “whenever necessary, through the means of our valiant Naval Infantry.”

Molossia also has its own air and space agency.

Founded in 1999, it has launched several rockets from its Alphonse Simms Memorial Cosmodrome – also known as the national broomball field. 

Its most notable innovation is Rocket Mail, a postal system using rockets to deliver letters across the micronation.

In 2018, teams successfully launched the P-1 Postal Rocket four times.

The agency also tested the Skylofter, a payload rocket used to study flight dynamics, ultimately launching the Molossian flag into the sky for the first time. 

A Molossian one-man-show

Despite calling himself a dictator, Baugh said he is quite benevolent.

“I don’t really get involved in the day-to-day decisions of our citizens’ lives,” he explained.

“They kind of just go along with what we’re doing. And nobody really wants this job – it’s a lot of work.”

Still, there may be “rigged elections” in Molossia’s future.

“You either vote for me or… you vote for me,” he joked.

“Maybe 300 or 400 votes from a population of 38 – dictatorships are known for that.”

Any real coups or uprisings?  “No. Again, nobody wants this job. It’s just me answering emails, maintaining buildings in Red Square – that’s our town square – and running the country.”

Baugh walks around his country draped in full military uniform, ready to show off his many medals while posing in front of Molossia’s monuments.

When asked where the condecorations come from, he said: “Some of the medals that I wear were awarded to me by me for doing great things for the nation.

“This is in keeping with the look that most dictators have.

“However, most of the medals that I wear, as well as as many, many more that I do not wear, were awarded to me by other nations for contributions to their nation or the micronational world in general.”

Funding a nation on a shoestring

Operating on a “third-world budget,” Molossia does need to break away from the cookie dough and spend real world money to make the country run.

The country only spends around $2,000 to $3,000 a year, mostly funded through tourism and merchandise.

“We try to be imaginative instead of throwing money at things,” Baugh says.

Their passports, for instance, are made from cardstock and pocket calendar sleeves – designed to look like 1930s documents so they aren’t mistaken for real ones at airports.

Future plans for the desert empire

Molossia may be small, but its ambitions are… moderately bigger. There’s talk of acquiring land across the road, which would double its territory, and dreams of building a tourist railroad.

“A small one, like the kind you see in parks. But that’s a bit beyond our budget right now.”

Despite its quirky tone, Baugh insists Molossia is more than a parody.

“This is something I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into. It’s a serious project with a sense of humor.”

And for anyone wondering how the U.S. government feels about this tiny nation in its midst?

“Nothing official. We did get a Christmas card from President Barack Obama once – four months late, but who’s counting.”

So whether it’s banning catfish, waging eternal war against long-defunct nations, or ruling by cheerful decree, Molossia continues to thrive – one moon pie and broomstick sword fight at a time.