I have often hypothesized that the end of the world wouldn't be a bang or a whimper, but a grotesque reality television spin-off where the producers have run out of ideas and are just throwing darts at a map. And here we are. I sit here, massaging a migraine that has persisted since approximately 2016, reading the latest dispatches from the asylum we call Earth, and I am forced to conclude that satire is dead. Reality has skinned it, worn its face, and is now dancing a jig on the grave of logic.

Let us examine the two primary archetypes of our impending doom, shall we? On one side, we have the unrestrained, id-driven madness of the American executive branch. On the other, the feckless, pearl-clutching impotence of the global technocracy. It is a choice between being eaten by a shark or bored to death by a substitute teacher.

The news cycle informs me that President Trump is continuing his quest to purchase Greenland. Read that again. He wants to buy a semi-autonomous territory of the Kingdom of Denmark as if it were a distressed golf course in Doral. This is the intellectual apex of the modern Right: everything is a transaction. Sovereignty? Culture? History? Irrelevant. Can we put a gold-plated hotel on a melting glacier? If yes, cut the check. It is 19th-century imperialism filtered through the brain of a man who thinks geopolitical strategy is just a bigger version of Monopoly.

The sheer stupidity of treating a landmass populated by actual human beings as a line item on a real estate acquisition form is breathtaking. It is the ultimate expression of the American ethos: if you can't bomb it or democratize it, just finance it. The Right cheers this on as "bold leadership," proving once again that their definition of leadership is indistinguishable from the behavior of a drunken toddler grabbing toys in a sandbox. They don't want a statesman; they want a landlord.

But before the Left and the Centrist elites begin hyperventilating into their ethically sourced paper bags, let’s look at the "solution" offered by the so-called adults in the room. Enter Prime Minister Mark Carney, speaking from the World Economic Forum—that annual pilgrimage where the people who broke the world gather to drink champagne and explain why we need to recycle more.

Carney, looking every bit the smooth-talking avatar of neoliberal failure, has warned of a "global breakdown." Oh, thank you, Mark. I hadn't noticed. Between the burning forests, the rising tides, and the reality TV host trying to buy the Arctic, I thought things were going swimmingly. But his diagnosis isn't the funny part; his prescription is.

Carney’s big idea? He is urging "medium-size countries" to band together. This is his grand strategy to counter the unrestrained, feral power of the great superpowers. He wants to form the Geopolitical Avengers, but composed entirely of accountants and middle managers. What exactly is a coalition of medium-sized countries going to do against a nuclear-armed United States or a rising China? Write a sternly worded letter? Impose a tariff on maple syrup and tulips?

It is the ultimate expression of the liberal delusion: the belief that if enough polite, reasonable people stand in a circle and hold hands, the bullies will stop stealing their lunch money. It is pathetic. It is the geopolitical equivalent of bringing a binder full of regulations to a knife fight. Carney represents the establishment class that paved the road to this hellscape with their "free markets" and "global integration," and now that the road is on fire, they are standing on the sidelines shouting, "Please, let’s be reasonable!"

There is no reason left, Mark. That ship sailed, hit an iceberg, and was purchased by Trump for scrap metal.

So, this is our reality. On one hand, we have the Great Powers, unmoored from any sense of morality or restraint, treating the globe like a Risk board where the pieces are expendable. Trump wants Greenland today; tomorrow, perhaps he’ll make an offer for the moon or try to trademark the concept of oxygen. It is the triumph of greed over governance.

On the other hand, we have the Coalition of the Mediocre, led by figures like Carney, who think that institutional norms and multilateral cooperation still matter in a world that has clearly decided to embrace chaos. They are trying to use the rules of cricket to referee a cage match. They offer us nothing but managed decline and bureaucratic whimpering.

I despise them both. The greedy morons tearing the world apart for profit, and the pompous hypocrites who think a keynote speech at Davos counts as resistance. We are trapped in a pincer movement of stupidity. The global breakdown isn't a warning, Mr. Carney. It is the current programming. And frankly, looking at the options on the table—being sold to a developer or lectured by a technocrat—I’m starting to root for the breakdown.