Every January, the world’s most self-important parasites migrate to Davos, Switzerland, to engage in their annual ritual of performative concern. The World Economic Forum is a grotesque pageant where billionaires lecture the impoverished on carbon footprints while their private jets clog the local airspace like metallic locusts. Into this theater of the absurd, we expected the arrival of the ultimate disruptor, the real estate mogul who treats the map of the world like a foreclosure list. But the universe, in a rare moment of lucidity or perhaps just mechanical fatigue, intervened. Air Force One, the $660 million flying metaphor for American overextension, suffered a 'minor electrical issue.' The plane turned around. The circus was postponed, leaving the Davos elite to sniff their own fumes in peace while the rest of us are left to contemplate the sheer, unadulterated comedy of a superpower that wants to buy a sub-continent but can’t maintain a circuit breaker.

Before the sparks flew in the fuselage, the narrative was already established. Our protagonist had doubled down on his desire to purchase Greenland. To the performative Left, this is a colonialist nightmare, a regression into 19th-century expansionism that offends their delicate, modern sensibilities. They prefer their colonization to be corporate and quiet—slowly extracting resources through debt traps and 'sustainability' initiatives. To the moronic Right, the purchase of Greenland is a masterstroke of geopolitical strategy, a way to 'own' the Arctic and presumably build a gold-plated hotel on a melting glacier. In reality, it is the ultimate vanity project for a man who views the entire planet as a series of underdeveloped lots. He claims there is 'no going back' on the Greenland ambition, a statement of terrifying permanence that was immediately undermined by his plane literally going back to the point of origin because of a faulty wire.

There is something profoundly poetic about the 'minor electrical issue.' It is the perfect diagnostic for the current state of global leadership. On one side, you have the Davos crowd—the technocratic elite who believe they can 'reset' the world through sheer force of whitepapers and expensive catering. They are the high-voltage dreamers who ignore the fact that the grid is already fried. On the other side, you have the populist wrecking ball, a man who wants to add the world’s largest island to his portfolio while his own transport is failing. We are trapped between a collective of vampires who want to manage our decline and a singular ego that wants to buy the wreckage. Both sides are equally convinced of their own righteousness, and both are equally incapable of keeping the lights on.

Let’s analyze the Greenland obsession through the lens of Buck Valor’s signature exhaustion. Greenland is a vast, icy wasteland that is currently liquefying. For the Davos set, it is a tragic symbol of the climate apocalypse they pretend to fight between sips of champagne. For the American administration, it is a strategic asset, a giant unsinkable aircraft carrier that might also contain enough rare earth minerals to fuel our addiction to useless gadgets for another century. The absurdity lies in the transactional nature of the proposal. It assumes everything is for sale, which is the only honest thing about the entire situation. In a world where politicians sell their souls for a campaign contribution and their constituents’ futures for a soundbite, why wouldn't a country be on the market? The outrage from the Danish government is equally laughable—a performance of sovereignty from a nation that, like most of Europe, exists under the protective, albeit fraying, umbrella of the very empire they are currently scolding.

As Air Force One limped back to base, one has to wonder about the 'no going back' rhetoric. In the theater of modern politics, words have been divorced from reality for so long that they’ve forgotten they were ever married. 'No going back' is the battle cry of a man who is currently in a U-turn. It is the mantra of a political class that is hurtling toward a cliff while arguing about the upholstery of the car. The Davos visit was meant to be a victory lap, a chance to gloat over a 'strong' economy built on a foundation of debt and delusion. Instead, it became a lesson in hardware failure. The electrical issue isn't just in the plane; it’s in the collective brain of the species. We are governed by the greedy and the moronic, lectured by the hypocritical, and flown by pilots who can't be sure the wings won't fall off.

The Greenland saga will continue, of course. The ego involved does not permit a graceful exit. We will be treated to more talk of 'deals' and 'manifest destiny' while the ice continues to slide into the sea. Meanwhile, the 'leaders' at Davos will continue to plan a future they won't live to see, funded by money they didn't earn. The rest of us are just passengers on a plane with a flickering light in the cockpit, watching as the pilot announces we’re heading back to the start because the system can’t handle the load. There is no going back, they say, even as we are dragged backward by the sheer weight of our own stupidity.