It’s that time of the decade again—the time when the bloated corpse of American imperialism rolls over in its sleep, catches a glimpse of a map, and realizes there’s a giant, frozen triangle of rock it doesn’t technically own yet. Greenland, the world’s largest island and most successful long-con in real estate naming history, is back in the crosshairs of the D.C. gentry. Last year, Michael Waltz, the then-US National Security Advisor and professional herald of the obvious, declared with the subtle grace of a sledgehammer: “This is about critical minerals. This is about natural resources.” Because of course it is. It’s never about the scenery, is it?

We are currently witnessing the latest chapter in a saga of geopolitical thirst that borders on the pathological. The United States, a nation that can barely maintain its own interstate highways without a three-year legislative temper tantrum, has decided it simply must have the shiny rocks buried under miles of Greenland’s melting ice. The rhetoric is predictable, drenched in the foul-smelling musk of 'national security' and 'strategic autonomy.' It’s the same tired script used to justify every resource grab since the invention of the shovel, now rebranded for the 21st century with the frantic energy of a basement-dwelling crypto-hoarder.

The irony is so thick you could mine it and sell it to the Chinese for a profit. We are told these 'critical minerals'—at least 25 of them, according to the ledger of greed—are essential for the 'green transition.' Yes, we must strip-mine the last pristine wildernesses of the planet to save the planet. We must deploy massive, diesel-chugging machinery to gouge out neodymium and dysprosium so that wealthy suburbanites in Northern Virginia can feel virtuous while driving their three-ton electric tanks to the organic grocery store. It is a feedback loop of industrial stupidity that only a species as doomed as ours could devise.

But here is the punchline, the chef’s kiss of this entire farce: it probably won’t even be profitable. The experts, those rare creatures who still look at numbers instead of flag pins, are pointing out that Greenland’s vast resources might not actually yield a return on investment. The infrastructure doesn’t exist. The climate is, shockingly, quite cold. The logistics of moving mountains of ore from a place with no roads and a shrinking ice cap are a nightmare that would make even the most coke-fueled McKinsey consultant weep into his spreadsheet. Yet, the saber-rattling continues. Washington is willing to burn diplomatic bridges and posturing against Russia and China over a venture that makes the F-35 project look like a disciplined exercise in fiscal responsibility.

The Right, of course, views Greenland as a giant treasure chest waiting to be cracked open by the holy hand of 'deregulation.' To them, the island is nothing more than a strategic asset, a chess piece in a 'Great Game' played by men who haven't touched grass, let alone permafrost, in thirty years. They speak of 'energy independence' while salivating over the fossil fuel deposits, conveniently ignoring the fact that by the time they start pumping, the very sea levels they’re raising will be swallowing the coastal bases they claim to be protecting. It is greed so shortsighted it’s practically blind.

On the other side of the aisle, the Left will perform its customary dance of decorative outrage. They will weep for the indigenous populations and the polar bears, all while carefully ignoring the fact that their own 'green' agendas are the primary drivers of this sudden lust for Arctic minerals. They want the 'clean' energy but refuse to acknowledge the filthy, exploitative holes in the ground required to produce it. They want the moral high ground, provided it’s paved with rare-earth magnets mined from someone else’s backyard. They are hypocrites in Patagonia vests, wringing their hands while checking the battery percentage on their cobalt-laden smartphones.

Ultimately, the Greenland obsession is a microcosm of human futility. We are a species that has broken the climate so thoroughly that the melting of the world’s ice is now viewed not as a global catastrophe, but as a convenient 'opening of trade routes' and an 'opportunity for extraction.' We are the only animal that celebrates the destruction of its habitat because it makes it easier to reach the shiny pebbles at the bottom of the grave. Washington’s saber-rattling isn't a sign of strength; it’s the frantic scratching of a terminal patient trying to hoard gold coins under their pillow. Whether the 'huge profits' materialize or not is irrelevant to the bureaucrats and the grifters. The goal isn't wealth—it’s the illusion of control in a world that is rapidly spinning out of their grasp. So, let them rattle their sabers. Let them dream of their Arctic ATM. In the end, the ice will win, and the only thing 'critical' about these minerals will be the size of the debt we leave behind to pay for our own extinction.