| 6:09 AM (3 hours ago) | |||
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Moral Courage In. Swag Bag Out.Trump's Nobel Fantasy and the Global Cost of American Incompetence
Good morning! Donald Trump finally got his hands on a Nobel Peace Prize, not by earning it, but by accepting the physical medal from Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado, who apparently decided the safest place for the symbol of her life's work was in the grasp of a man who has spent years openly begging for one. Trump, evoking images of an obese Gollum clutching the One Ring, immediately announced that Machado had presented him with her Nobel "for the work I have done," and you could practically hear it: My Precioussss. At that moment, even the Eye of Sauron rolled back in disgust. Somewhere deep in Mordor, the ground shuddered, or maybe that was just what's left of the East Wing reacting to the sheer density of the cringe. The Nobel Committee, playing the role of long-suffering Elrond, gently reminded the world that while a medal can change hands, the prize itself cannot be transferred. You can hold the gold, but you cannot absorb the meaning. Trump may now physically possess the object, but he will never be a Nobel laureate, no matter how lovingly he caresses it, no matter how many times he tells himself the story at night. And that's what makes the spectacle so embarrassing for anyone watching who still has a functioning nervous system. This is the President of the United States performing visible thirst for validation on the world stage. No dignity, just naked yearning, a grown man clinging to borrowed moral authority like it might finally complete him. The exchange itself is almost too perfect. Machado hands over the most powerful symbol she has, global recognition earned through personal risk and democratic struggle. Trump, in return, almost certainly sends her off with a White House swag bag. A tote, a commemorative folder, perhaps a handful of hurricane altering Sharpies. Moral courage in. Merch out. Trump doesn't trade in reciprocity; he collects symbols the way Gollum collected promises, obsessively, possessively, and without understanding what they're for. The medal will sit somewhere prominent, silently insisting on a truth Trump cannot bear: you can seize the object, but legitimacy does not come with a gift receipt. For the average citizen watching this unfold, for anyone who remembers when the presidency required at least a passing familiarity with shame, the dominant emotion isn't outrage, it's second-hand embarrassment. The kind that makes you wince, look away, and wonder how we ended up here, watching a man who commands the world's largest military whisper sweet nothings to a prize he did not win.
While Trump was busy hoarding borrowed legitimacy, his administration was doing something far more consequential: sending the FBI to search the home of a Washington Post reporter. Agents seized the devices of Hannah Natanson, whose real offense appears to be listening to terrified federal workers as Trump tries to gut the civil service and refashion the government into a personal enforcement arm. This kind of raid is vanishingly rare, even in genuine national security cases, and runs straight through decades of legal firebreaks meant to protect press freedom. Free speech experts are calling it what it is, a chilling escalation. Trump, meanwhile, casually bragged about catching "a very bad leaker," as if the First Amendment were a bug he's finally figured out how to squash. From there, the day's news widened outward, and the pattern only sharpened. Trump claimed he held off attacking Iran because Tehran personally reassured him it had stopped killing protesters, a story so generous it practically qualifies as fiction. In reality, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Turkey, and Oman all rushed to talk him down, warning that U.S. strikes could ignite a regional war. Saudi Arabia reportedly denied the U.S. use of its airspace. Qatar quietly watched Washington withdraw personnel from its massive regional base. Trump supplied the mythology; allies supplied the restraint. The U.S. military seized yet another Venezuelan oil tanker in a pre-dawn operation, the sixth such boarding in weeks. Blurry footage was released. The justification was "sanctions enforcement." The result was simpler: the United States taking physical possession of another country's oil while Trump posed as a champion of Venezuelan democracy hours later. He keeps the Nobel medal, takes the oil, and sidelines Machado anyway. Liberation, apparently, comes with a receipt. Allies elsewhere are adjusting accordingly, and I'll admit it: watching them govern with basic competence makes me deeply, irrationally envious. Canada's Mark Carney was in Beijing this week calmly building what he called a "strategic partnership" with China, not out of affection for Beijing, but out of necessity, because the United States under Trump has become a punitive, unreliable partner that treats allies like customers it's perpetually mad at. There was no bluster, no humiliation ritual, no fixation on personal glory. Just adults assessing risk and adapting to reality. France went further still. President Emmanuel Macron announced that France now provides the majority of intelligence to Ukraine after Washington repeatedly weaponized intelligence sharing to bully Kyiv into political submission. Intelligence, the most sensitive currency of trust, is now flowing around the United States rather than through it. Not because France suddenly became more powerful, but because America under Trump became less dependable. Watching other countries quietly compensate for our dysfunction is humiliating in a way satire can't fully soften. While Trump whispers My Precioussss to a medal he didn't earn, the rest of the world is doing the work we used to do, stabilizing alliances, managing crises, and planning beyond the next tantrum. It's not that leadership has vanished from the world. It's that, for now, it's happening everywhere but here. Then there's Greenland. Trump is openly threatening to seize sovereign territory belonging to Denmark, a NATO ally, prompting even Republicans to mutter that this might be, as one put it, "the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Mitch McConnell warned that such a move could incinerate NATO. Members of Congress are traveling to Copenhagen to reassure allies that the president doesn't speak for the country. Somewhere, a very old clip of Ted Cruz resurfaced, from back when Trump first ran for office, warning that Trump might one day start a war with Denmark. What once sounded like hyperbole now sounds like prophecy. The tiny pushback we're seeing hasn't gone unanswered. After five Republican senators voted to advance a war powers resolution limiting Trump's ability to launch new military actions, Trump reportedly called them, angrily, to threaten primary challenges. Within hours, at least one senator was already backpedaling. Even in this mess, there's a flicker of light, not from principle, but from polling. Trump's own team is reportedly worried that his immigration crackdown is losing support, especially among independents. The problem, aides say, isn't the policy. Trump still wants mass deportations, it's the optics. Masked agents, chaotic raids, and fatal encounters don't play well in Peoria. Even Joe Rogan is asking whether America is drifting toward "Are we really going to be the Gestapo?" When public disgust starts registering on the internal dashboards, recalibration suddenly becomes thinkable. Calls are also growing to impeach Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, architect of much of the ICE escalation, over obstruction, abuse of power, and civil liberties violations. Whether that goes anywhere is an open question, but the pressure is real, and it's building. Put it all together and the picture is unmistakable. What was once described as exaggeration has become the daily briefing. Warnings that were dismissed as hyperbole, that Trump would threaten allies, punish journalists, weaponize intelligence, govern by intimidation, and treat constitutional limits as optional have all arrived. The extraordinary has become procedural. The unthinkable now comes with a whip count. Trump can clutch a Nobel medal he didn't earn all he wants. The rest of the world is quietly adjusting to the reality that the United States no longer behaves like a country that knows what it's doing. |
| 6:09 AM (3 hours ago) | |||
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Moral Courage In. Swag Bag Out.Trump's Nobel Fantasy and the Global Cost of American Incompetence
Good morning! Donald Trump finally got his hands on a Nobel Peace Prize, not by earning it, but by accepting the physical medal from Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado, who apparently decided the safest place for the symbol of her life's work was in the grasp of a man who has spent years openly begging for one. Trump, evoking images of an obese Gollum clutching the One Ring, immediately announced that Machado had presented him with her Nobel "for the work I have done," and you could practically hear it: My Precioussss. At that moment, even the Eye of Sauron rolled back in disgust. Somewhere deep in Mordor, the ground shuddered, or maybe that was just what's left of the East Wing reacting to the sheer density of the cringe. The Nobel Committee, playing the role of long-suffering Elrond, gently reminded the world that while a medal can change hands, the prize itself cannot be transferred. You can hold the gold, but you cannot absorb the meaning. Trump may now physically possess the object, but he will never be a Nobel laureate, no matter how lovingly he caresses it, no matter how many times he tells himself the story at night. And that's what makes the spectacle so embarrassing for anyone watching who still has a functioning nervous system. This is the President of the United States performing visible thirst for validation on the world stage. No dignity, just naked yearning, a grown man clinging to borrowed moral authority like it might finally complete him. The exchange itself is almost too perfect. Machado hands over the most powerful symbol she has, global recognition earned through personal risk and democratic struggle. Trump, in return, almost certainly sends her off with a White House swag bag. A tote, a commemorative folder, perhaps a handful of hurricane altering Sharpies. Moral courage in. Merch out. Trump doesn't trade in reciprocity; he collects symbols the way Gollum collected promises, obsessively, possessively, and without understanding what they're for. The medal will sit somewhere prominent, silently insisting on a truth Trump cannot bear: you can seize the object, but legitimacy does not come with a gift receipt. For the average citizen watching this unfold, for anyone who remembers when the presidency required at least a passing familiarity with shame, the dominant emotion isn't outrage, it's second-hand embarrassment. The kind that makes you wince, look away, and wonder how we ended up here, watching a man who commands the world's largest military whisper sweet nothings to a prize he did not win.
While Trump was busy hoarding borrowed legitimacy, his administration was doing something far more consequential: sending the FBI to search the home of a Washington Post reporter. Agents seized the devices of Hannah Natanson, whose real offense appears to be listening to terrified federal workers as Trump tries to gut the civil service and refashion the government into a personal enforcement arm. This kind of raid is vanishingly rare, even in genuine national security cases, and runs straight through decades of legal firebreaks meant to protect press freedom. Free speech experts are calling it what it is, a chilling escalation. Trump, meanwhile, casually bragged about catching "a very bad leaker," as if the First Amendment were a bug he's finally figured out how to squash. From there, the day's news widened outward, and the pattern only sharpened. Trump claimed he held off attacking Iran because Tehran personally reassured him it had stopped killing protesters, a story so generous it practically qualifies as fiction. In reality, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Turkey, and Oman all rushed to talk him down, warning that U.S. strikes could ignite a regional war. Saudi Arabia reportedly denied the U.S. use of its airspace. Qatar quietly watched Washington withdraw personnel from its massive regional base. Trump supplied the mythology; allies supplied the restraint. The U.S. military seized yet another Venezuelan oil tanker in a pre-dawn operation, the sixth such boarding in weeks. Blurry footage was released. The justification was "sanctions enforcement." The result was simpler: the United States taking physical possession of another country's oil while Trump posed as a champion of Venezuelan democracy hours later. He keeps the Nobel medal, takes the oil, and sidelines Machado anyway. Liberation, apparently, comes with a receipt. Allies elsewhere are adjusting accordingly, and I'll admit it: watching them govern with basic competence makes me deeply, irrationally envious. Canada's Mark Carney was in Beijing this week calmly building what he called a "strategic partnership" with China, not out of affection for Beijing, but out of necessity, because the United States under Trump has become a punitive, unreliable partner that treats allies like customers it's perpetually mad at. There was no bluster, no humiliation ritual, no fixation on personal glory. Just adults assessing risk and adapting to reality. France went further still. President Emmanuel Macron announced that France now provides the majority of intelligence to Ukraine after Washington repeatedly weaponized intelligence sharing to bully Kyiv into political submission. Intelligence, the most sensitive currency of trust, is now flowing around the United States rather than through it. Not because France suddenly became more powerful, but because America under Trump became less dependable. Watching other countries quietly compensate for our dysfunction is humiliating in a way satire can't fully soften. While Trump whispers My Precioussss to a medal he didn't earn, the rest of the world is doing the work we used to do, stabilizing alliances, managing crises, and planning beyond the next tantrum. It's not that leadership has vanished from the world. It's that, for now, it's happening everywhere but here. Then there's Greenland. Trump is openly threatening to seize sovereign territory belonging to Denmark, a NATO ally, prompting even Republicans to mutter that this might be, as one put it, "the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Mitch McConnell warned that such a move could incinerate NATO. Members of Congress are traveling to Copenhagen to reassure allies that the president doesn't speak for the country. Somewhere, a very old clip of Ted Cruz resurfaced, from back when Trump first ran for office, warning that Trump might one day start a war with Denmark. What once sounded like hyperbole now sounds like prophecy. The tiny pushback we're seeing hasn't gone unanswered. After five Republican senators voted to advance a war powers resolution limiting Trump's ability to launch new military actions, Trump reportedly called them, angrily, to threaten primary challenges. Within hours, at least one senator was already backpedaling. Even in this mess, there's a flicker of light, not from principle, but from polling. Trump's own team is reportedly worried that his immigration crackdown is losing support, especially among independents. The problem, aides say, isn't the policy. Trump still wants mass deportations, it's the optics. Masked agents, chaotic raids, and fatal encounters don't play well in Peoria. Even Joe Rogan is asking whether America is drifting toward "Are we really going to be the Gestapo?" When public disgust starts registering on the internal dashboards, recalibration suddenly becomes thinkable. Calls are also growing to impeach Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, architect of much of the ICE escalation, over obstruction, abuse of power, and civil liberties violations. Whether that goes anywhere is an open question, but the pressure is real, and it's building. Put it all together and the picture is unmistakable. What was once described as exaggeration has become the daily briefing. Warnings that were dismissed as hyperbole, that Trump would threaten allies, punish journalists, weaponize intelligence, govern by intimidation, and treat constitutional limits as optional have all arrived. The extraordinary has become procedural. The unthinkable now comes with a whip count. Trump can clutch a Nobel medal he didn't earn all he wants. The rest of the world is quietly adjusting to the reality that the United States no longer behaves like a country that knows what it's doing. |
| 4:15 AM (10 hours ago) | |||
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WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In a counterproposal designed to ease tensions with the United States, on Thursday Greenland suggested that Donald J. Trump acquire Jeffrey Epstein's island instead. "President Trump has no roots on our island," Greenlandic government spokesman Hartvig Dorkelson said. "Epstein's island, on the other hand, must stir many happy memories for him." Acknowledging that Epstein's island "could benefit from rebranding," Dorkelson said, "More than the Kennedy Center, this is a place that should have Trump's name on it." Meanwhile, Trump ramped up his imperialist rhetoric, declaring that the US needed to own Lapland in order to corner the world market in laptops.
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| 3:22 PM (5 hours ago) | |||
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"Absolutely Not Necessary"How Denmark, Greenland, and NATO rejected Trump's demand to own the Arctic
For Denmark and Greenland, Wednesday's White House meeting was never going to be easy. But the fact that Denmark's foreign minister felt compelled to say, on the record, that it is "not easy to think innovatively about solutions when you wake up every morning to different threats" tells you just how far relations have deteriorated. The threats he was referring to were not coming from Russia or China. They were coming from the President of the United States. After weeks of escalating rhetoric in which Donald Trump declared that "anything less than" U.S. ownership of Greenland would be "unacceptable," Danish and Greenlandic officials finally sat down with Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio in Washington. Trump himself stayed out of the room, but not out of the pressure campaign. Even as the talks were underway, the White House continued to push aggressive messaging through social media, amplifying claims about Chinese and Russian activity that Danish officials would later publicly dispute. The meeting itself lasted under an hour. No breakthroughs were announced, but what followed was striking: a series of unusually candid statements from Denmark and Greenland that quietly dismantled Trump's argument while exposing the cost of his approach.
Denmark's foreign minister, Lars Løkke Rasmussen, acknowledged the reality Trump keeps invoking. Yes, there is a new security situation in the Arctic. Yes, the so-called "peace dividend" is over. Climate change, new shipping routes, and increased great-power competition have made the region more strategically important than it has been in decades. But Rasmussen drew a bright line between recognizing a problem and embracing Trump's solution. The idea that this new security environment requires U.S. ownership of Greenland, he said flatly, "is absolutely not necessary." More pointedly, Rasmussen reminded Washington, without rancor, but without ambiguity, that the current military posture in Greenland is the result of American choices. Over the years, the United States itself reduced its presence there from roughly 10,000 personnel to around 200. The implication was clear: you don't get to hollow out a security arrangement and then use that hollowing to justify a territorial grab. He also corrected Trump's claims directly. Despite repeated assertions from the White House about Chinese military encroachment, Rasmussen said there has not been a Chinese warship in Greenland for roughly a decade. That kind of factual rebuttal is rare in alliance diplomacy, and it signaled that Denmark and Greenland were no longer willing to let exaggerations pass unchallenged in the name of courtesy. Crucially, Rasmussen's position is not at odds with NATO's own military leadership. Just days earlier, NATO's Supreme Allied Commander Europe, Gen. Alexus Grynkewich, described the Arctic as a zone of increasing strategic competition, but emphasized that deterrence there is being strengthened through coordination, integration, and shared command structures, not territorial seizure. With seven of the eight Arctic nations already inside NATO, Grynkewich said, the alliance is positioned to "get this right." Asked directly whether Trump's recent rhetoric had changed NATO's priorities, the general declined to engage politically, noting instead that alliance discussions remain ongoing and constructive, a carefully worded signal of continuity, and a quiet effort to firewall military strategy from political volatility. In other words, the generals are acknowledging the same risks Trump cites, Russian and Chinese cooperation, hybrid threats, increased activity in the high north, while rejecting the premise that those risks require breaking alliance norms or undermining allied sovereignty. From NATO's perspective, the answer to Arctic competition is more cooperation, not coercion. Greenland's foreign minister, Vivian Motzfeldt, struck the same tone. There is room, she said, to strengthen cooperation with the United States. There is room to talk about security, investment, and defense. But none of that requires Greenland to be owned by the U.S. Sovereignty, she made clear, is not a bargaining chip. What came through most strongly, though, was exhaustion and something close to hurt. Rasmussen spoke emotionally about how Denmark and Greenland see themselves: as some of America's closest allies. He reminded U.S. officials of Denmark's sacrifices alongside the United States in Afghanistan. He stressed that Denmark wants to fulfill its commitments, wants to work closely with Washington, and understands that the future cannot be hostage to the past. Cooperation, he said plainly, has to be respectful. "It is of course very emotional for all of us," Rasmussen said, for Greenlanders, and for the Greenlandic community in Denmark. And then came the line that may end up defining this episode: it is not easy to innovate, not easy to think creatively about shared solutions, when each morning begins with new threats from your supposed ally. That comment reframed the entire crisis. The problem is no longer simply Trump's fixation on Greenland. It's the way his rhetoric has poisoned the diplomatic environment so thoroughly that even good-faith security discussions become almost impossible. The European response reflects that reality. France has announced it will open a consulate in Greenland, explicitly framing the move as a geostrategic decision. Germany has confirmed it will send a Bundeswehr reconnaissance team to Greenland to assess how it can support Denmark's security presence in the region, a quiet but unmistakable signal that Europe is closing ranks. NATO's own military leadership has emphasized that deterrence in the Arctic is already being strengthened through alliance cooperation, not unilateral control. As Trump insists that Greenland must be "in U.S. hands" to be secure, America's allies, and its generals, are saying the opposite: Greenland is already secure because it is embedded within NATO, protected by collective defense rather than domination. Rasmussen was careful to describe the meeting as constructive. He said it helped lower tensions and return the conversation to dialogue. And he went out of his way to say that Denmark and Greenland are willing to explore whether some U.S. concerns can be accommodated as long as that exploration respects the territorial integrity of the Danish Kingdom and the self-determination of the Greenlandic people. That condition is the line Europe is now holding. This is no longer just a dispute about Arctic strategy. It is a test of whether the United States still understands the difference between leadership and ownership, and whether alliances can survive when one partner treats sovereignty as a starting bid instead of a boundary. |
