There is a specific kind of nausea reserved for the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. It is the vertigo one feels when realizing that the architects of our global misery have gathered in a ski resort to congratulate themselves on their philanthropy while their private jets melt the very snow they are standing on. It is a festival of self-importance, a burning man for people who think “disruption” is a moral virtue rather than a marketing buzzword. And into this cesspool of high-minded hypocrisy stomps Donald Trump, the bull in the china shop who doesn’t want to break the china so much as he wants to spray-paint his name on it and sell it as a souvenir.

The press is currently breathless with anticipation, wringing their hands over the question: “What sort of welcome will Trump get at Davos?” The summary suggests that his recent attempts to purchase Greenland—yes, the actual landmass, as if it were a distressed hotel property in Atlantic City—might make things awkward. This is the sort of analysis that makes me want to drink rubbing alcohol. The idea that the Davos crowd, a collection of vampires who would sell their own mothers for a fractional percentage point in tax relief, is somehow morally affronted by Trump’s transactional nature is laughable. They don’t hate him because he wanted to buy Greenland. They hate him because he said it out loud.

Let’s deconstruct the absurdity of the Greenland proposition, shall we? It is the purest distillation of the modern American psyche. To the Trumpian mind, sovereignty is a myth; everything is real estate. History, culture, indigenous populations—these are just zoning issues to be worked out by the lawyers. The sheer, unadulterated hubris of looking at an autonomous territory and asking, “How much for the big ice cube?” is objectively hilarious. It strips away the veneer of diplomacy and reveals the rotting capitalist core beneath. The United States has always treated the world as a shopping mall; Trump is just the first President crass enough to ask where the checkout counter is.

But let us not make the mistake of siding with the “Globalists” of the WEF simply because the Nationalist in Chief is a buffoon. The reception in Davos will be chilly, we are told. Why? Because Trump is a protectionist threat to their global supply chains? Because he disrupts the polite fiction of international cooperation? Please. The Davos elite are uncomfortable with Trump in the same way a mafia don is uncomfortable with a street thug who uses a chainsaw instead of a silencer. It’s bad for business. It draws attention. These masters of the universe prefer to loot the planet quietly, behind closed doors, using complex financial instruments and “public-private partnerships.” Trump loots with a bullhorn. It’s an aesthetic clash, not a moral one.

The media narrative suggests that Trump is walking into a lion’s den. Nonsense. He is walking into a room full of people who share his fundamental worldview: that the world exists to be exploited by the few. The friction arises only because Trump plays a zero-sum game—for America to win, someone else must lose—while the Davos crowd prefers the “win-win” lie, where the corporations win, the politicians win, and the public loses so slowly they don’t notice until the water is up to their chins. Trump’s presence forces them to confront the ugly reality of their own ideology stripped of its polite euphemisms.

So, will the welcome be friendly? Outwardly, perhaps not. There will be tut-tutting. There will be furrowed brows from European technocrats who pride themselves on their civilized management of decline. There will be uncomfortable silences when he brags about the economy using numbers that exist only in his own fever dreams. But let’s be real: money recognizes money. When the cameras are off, and the speeches about “sustainability” and “stakeholder capitalism” are finished, they will all go to the same cocktail parties. They will clink glasses filled with liquor that costs more than your car.

The tragedy isn't that Trump is out of place at Davos. The tragedy is that he fits in perfectly. He is the id to their ego. He is the grotesque reflection in the mirror that they refuse to look at. The Greenland purchase attempt wasn't a blunder; it was a statement of intent that resonates perfectly with the Davos ethos: Everything is for sale. The only difference is that the people in the audience are smart enough to lease the world rather than buy it outright. It’s cleaner that way. Less paperwork.