I am looking at a half-empty bottle of single malt, and then I am looking at the news, and frankly, the bottle makes more sense. We have reached the point in the simulation where the President of the United States operates with the emotional maturity of a toddler denied a participation trophy at a pee-wee soccer match.

Apparently, according to recent reports that I wish were hallucinations induced by bad shellfish, Donald Trump informed the Prime Minister of Norway via text message that he was done playing Mr. Nice Guy. Why? Because the Nobel Committee, in their infinite, sweater-wearing Scandinavian wisdom, failed to award him the Peace Prize. Consequently, the United States must now purchase the autonomous territory of Greenland.

Read that again. Let the sheer, unadulterated stupidity of that causal link wash over you like a wave of raw sewage.

"I no longer feel obliged to think purely of Peace," the text allegedly read. That is not a diplomatic communiqué; that is a line spoken by a Bond villain right before he drops the spy into a shark tank. But at least Bond villains have the decency to wear tailored suits and stroke white cats. We are stuck with a reality TV host who treats international relations like a distressed asset liquidation sale in Atlantic City.

Let’s unpack this dumpster fire, shall we? First, we have the assumption that "Peace" is not a moral imperative or a prerequisite for human survival, but a transactional performance. It’s a chore. It’s like doing the dishes. You do the dishes because you expect your allowance. If mommy and daddy (or in this case, the Norwegian Nobel Committee) don’t cough up the shiny gold coin, well, then to hell with the dishes. Smash the plates. Buy a massive, ice-covered island as a consolation prize.

And let’s talk about the target of this affection: Greenland. Why Greenland? Because it looks big on a Mercator projection map? Probably. It’s the ultimate trophy property. It’s huge, it’s white, and it’s cold—much like the President's base, though considerably less loud. The logic seems to be that if he can’t have the acclaim of the global intelligentsia, he will simply purchase a tectonic plate. It’s retail therapy on a planetary scale. "I’m sad, so I’m going to buy a continent." We’ve all been there, right?

But here is where my hatred branches out, hydra-like, to consume everyone involved. Let’s not pretend the Nobel Committee is some bastion of purity. This is the same group that gave a Peace Prize to Henry Kissinger, a man whose foreign policy had a body count higher than the bubonic plague. They gave one to Obama essentially for not being George W. Bush, a low bar that one could clear by simply remaining asleep. The Nobel Prize has long been a circle-jerk for the global elite, a way for Europeans to feel superior while the world burns. Trump wanting one is pathetic; the Prize existing in its current form is a joke. They deserve each other.

Furthermore, why is he texting the Prime Minister of Norway about Greenland? Greenland is a territory of Denmark. This is the geopolitical equivalent of yelling at the manager of a Burger King because your Big Mac was cold. It betrays a level of ignorance that would be funny if this man didn't possess the nuclear codes. To him, all those Nordic countries are the same—just a blur of blonde socialists and pickled fish. Who cares which one owns the ice? Just put it on the credit card.

The report suggests that Trump claimed the U.S. needed the island for "global security." Please. We all know what that means. He envisions 'Trump Tower Nuuk,' a gold-plated monstrosity rising from the permafrost, complete with a golf course where the hazards are melting glaciers and polar bears rummaging for food. He doesn't want security; he wants to be a landlord. He wants to evict the seals and gentrify the Arctic circle.

And the Democrats? Oh, spare me your feigned outrage. The Left is currently clutching its collective pearls, screaming about norms and decorum, as if American imperialism wasn't a bipartisan hobby for the last century. They aren't mad that he wants to buy a sovereign nation; they're mad he said the quiet part out loud. Previous presidents would have just installed a puppet government or staged a coup to get access to the Arctic shipping lanes. Trump just sends a text message asking "How much?" It’s the vulgarity that offends them, not the avarice.

So here we are. A world where "Peace" is a leverage chip to be discarded when the accolades don't roll in. A world where sovereign territory is eyed up like a foreclosure on Zillow. I have no hope for any of you. The Right thinks this is 4D chess; the Left thinks it’s the end of days; the Norwegians are probably just confused and eating lutevisk.

I’m going to finish this bottle now. If the President buys Greenland, wake me up. I want to see if he tries to make Mexico pay for the heating bill.