The United States, a nation currently embroiled in a recursive loop of its own making, has decided once again that the world’s 'huddled masses' are actually a bit too much of a nuisance for the current administrative mood. In a move that surprises absolutely no one who has been paying attention to the slow-motion collapse of globalism, the U.S. has frozen the processing of permanent residency visas for 75 countries. Twenty-six of these are in Africa, which suggests that the 'Land of Opportunity' has finally updated its welcome mat to read 'Go Away, We’re Having a Mental Breakdown.'

This visa freeze is a masterful stroke of bureaucratic nihilism. By slamming the door on 75 nations, the U.S. State Department is essentially admitting that the American Dream is now a members-only club with a line that stretches into the next century. It is a peculiar form of isolationist theater performed by a country that still insists on sticking its nose into everyone else's business while simultaneously refusing to let anyone in to see the mess. The hypocrisy is, as always, the only consistent export left in the American portfolio. We are witnessing the geopolitical equivalent of a man setting his own living room on fire and then locking the front door so the neighbors can't come in to help or, God forbid, escape their own burning houses.

Speaking of burning houses, we turn our jaded gaze to Nigeria, where the police have recently discovered the concept of 'objective reality.' After a weekend spent vigorously denying that anything untoward had happened in northern Kaduna, the authorities have performed a rhetorical somersault that would make an Olympic gymnast weep with envy. They have finally 'confirmed'—weeks after the screams had likely faded into the dusty air—that dozens of worshippers were, in fact, kidnapped from three churches. It is a staggering display of institutional incompetence. In Nigeria, it seems, the official police strategy is to ignore a crime until it becomes statistically impossible to pretend it didn’t happen.

The Nigerian police force’s initial denial followed by a sheepish 'walk back' is the quintessential dance of the failing state. It is a performance designed to protect the fragile ego of the bureaucracy while the citizenry is hauled off into the bushes by the dozens. One must admire the sheer audacity of telling a grieving community that their missing relatives are merely a figment of their collective imagination, only to pivot later and say, 'Ah, yes, those people. We found them. Or rather, we found the fact that they are gone.' It is a grim comedy where the punchline is always a funeral or a ransom note, delivered by men in uniforms who can’t seem to find their own shoes without a bribe and a compass.

And then we have Kenya, where the media is desperately trying to sell us a 'feel-good' story to distract from the general rot of the planet. We are told of a 'team of trained female motorcycle riders and nurses' who are helping expectant mothers reach clinics. The press wants you to find this inspiring. I find it an indictment of a species that can launch billionaires into space but can't figure out how to pave a road or buy an ambulance. It is 'Mad Max: Midwife Edition.'

This isn't a story about empowerment; it’s a story about the total abdication of governmental responsibility. When the solution to maternal mortality is 'put the pregnant lady on the back of a dirt bike and hope for the best,' you aren't living in a burgeoning democracy—you’re living in a post-apocalyptic scavenger society that just happens to have 5G. These women are heroes, certainly, but they are heroes because the system they live in is a hollowed-out shell that views basic healthcare as a luxury rather than a prerequisite for being called a civilized nation.

So here we are. America is closing its borders because it’s too afraid of the ghosts it created abroad. Nigeria is losing its citizens to the void while the police play word games with the truth. And in Kenya, the future of the next generation depends on the suspension of a motorcycle. It is a triptych of human failure, painted in the colors of incompetence, cruelty, and desperate, low-tech survival. Humanity isn't just circling the drain; it's trying to charge admission for the view.