Behold the latest chapter in the collective descent of the human species into a permanent state of terminal idiocy. The geopolitical landscape, which already possessed the structural integrity of a wet napkin in a hurricane, has once again been upended by the sudden realization that the world is run by men with the impulse control of toddlers in a candy store. Donald Trump, a man whose understanding of geography is presumably limited to the placement of sand traps on his own golf courses, has reignited the prospect of a trade war with the European Union over—of all things—Greenland. It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetically predictable. We are witnessing the global economy twitching like a decapitated chicken because a real estate developer turned accidental autocrat decided he wanted to buy a giant, melting ice cube.

Naturally, the markets reacted with their customary level of dignified restraint, which is to say they plummeted into a lightless abyss of panic. The global financial system, that grand, shimmering facade of rational actors and complex algorithms, revealed itself once again to be nothing more than a nervous breakdown in a suit. Investors, those supposedly shrewd titans of industry, began dumping stocks as if they were radioactive waste the moment the word ‘Greenland’ hit the ticker. It is a testament to the fragility of our modern existence that the entire world’s wealth can be threatened because one man views a sovereign territory as a fixer-upper with potential for a hotel-casino. The Dow, the S&P 500, and every other acronym of imaginary value took a dive, proving that the ‘invisible hand’ of the market is actually just a sweaty palm clutching a panic button.

The European Union, for its part, has responded with its signature blend of performative outrage and bureaucratic tsk-tsking. They act as if they are the bastions of enlightened sovereignty, clutching their pearls at the sheer audacity of the American offer. Please. The EU is a collection of nations that spent the last five centuries carving up the rest of the planet like a Thanksgiving turkey, and now they want to play the role of the virtuous protector of Arctic integrity. Their indignation is as hollow as a chocolate bunny. They aren't worried about the people of Greenland; they are worried about their own leverage in the upcoming trade skirmishes. They view the world through a lens of tariffs and regulations, a soul-crushing tapestry of red tape that they believe makes them morally superior to the blunt-force stupidity of the American administration. It’s a battle between a sledgehammer and a thousand paper cuts, and frankly, both sides deserve to lose.

Let’s deconstruct the ‘strategy’ here, if we can use such a generous term for what is essentially a geopolitical temper tantrum. A trade war with the EU—America’s largest trading partner—is the economic equivalent of shooting yourself in the foot to prove to your neighbor that you own the gun. It is a race to the bottom where the prize is a heap of ash. Trump’s obsession with Greenland isn't about mineral rights or shipping lanes in any intellectual sense; it’s about the primal urge of a man who has spent his life putting his name on things that don't belong to him. He sees a map and sees a void he hasn't yet filled with a tacky gold-plated logo. And because he cannot have his toy, he decides to break everyone else’s toys by threatening tariffs on cars, wine, and cheese. It is Manifest Destiny reimagined as a petulant Yelp review.

Meanwhile, the actual inhabitants of Greenland are treated as mere set dressing in this farce. In the eyes of Washington and Brussels, they aren't a people with a culture; they are a strategic asset, a collection of rare earth minerals currently trapped under ice that is conveniently disappearing thanks to the very industrial machine currently arguing over who gets to mine it. The irony is so thick you could carve it into blocks and sell it at a boutique gift shop. We are watching the architects of climate collapse bickering over the spoils of the destruction they’ve wrought, while the markets weep because the price of German luxury sedans might go up by five percent.

We live in an age where the distinction between a high-stakes diplomatic crisis and a reality TV plotline has entirely evaporated. The global economy is a hostage to the whims of a man who thinks trade is a zero-sum game played on a Monopoly board, and the ‘rational’ world is responding by setting its own money on fire. There are no adults in the room. There are only grifters, bureaucrats, and the terrified masses of middle-class investors who still believe that the system is built on something more substantial than ego and spite. It isn't. It’s all a joke, but nobody is laughing because we’re the punchline. So, let the markets plunge. Let the trade wars escalate. Let the ice melt. At the rate we’re going, we’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of Greenland—or the global economy—to fight over by next Tuesday. It is a magnificent, slow-motion train wreck, and the only thing more depressing than the event itself is the fact that we’re all forced to watch it while pretending any of this matters in the grand, indifferent scope of the universe.