Every year, the world’s most self-important humans migrate to the thin, oxygen-deprived air of Davos, Switzerland, to engage in a ritual of performative concern and high-altitude back-patting. This year, the blond-wood sanctuary of the World Economic Forum is vibrating not with the usual low hum of corporate synergistic buzzwords, but with the tremors of a prehistoric arrival. The global elite—a collective of billionaires who think they’ve solved poverty because they occasionally buy a carbon offset—are currently wetting their bespoke trousers over the impending arrival of Donald Trump. It is a spectacle of the highest order: the vultures of the status quo meeting the T-Rex of the tabloid era, and the result is as intellectually stimulating as a bar fight in a museum.

Enter Gavin Newsom, the Democratic Governor of California and a man whose hair is held in place by sheer political ambition and industrial-grade lacquer. Newsom, ever the protagonist in his own unwritten biopic, offered the assembled masses some 'blunt advice' regarding the US President. He described Trump as a T-Rex, suggesting that one must either 'mate with him or he devours you.' It is a fascinatingly grotesque image, one that perfectly encapsulates the psychosexual power dynamics of modern politics. Newsom’s attempt at a gritty, world-weary metaphor only highlights the pathetic reality of the 'Resistance': they aren't trying to save the world; they’re just trying to figure out if they should wear a tuxedo or a harness to the end of the world. Newsom’s bravado is as thin as the mountain air, a performance for the cameras while he waits for his turn to be the one holding the leash.

The centerpiece of this Alpine circus is Trump’s latest whim: the annexation of Greenland. In a world plagued by systemic inequality and ecological collapse, the leader of the 'free world' has decided that what the United States really needs is a giant, melting ice cube. It is the ultimate real estate obsession, a late-night infomercial approach to geopolitics. Trump isn't looking at Greenland for its strategic value or its people; he’s looking at it as a trophy property, a giant white canvas onto which he can slap a gold-plated sign. And to get it, he’s doing what any sophisticated diplomat would do: he’s threatening to burn down the global trade system. If the EU and Canada don’t play ball with his Arctic land grab, he’s promising punitive tariffs that would make the Great Depression look like a temporary dip in the Dow.

The reaction from the 'civilized' leaders—the Macrons and the Trudeaus of the world—is a masterclass in spinelessness. They are 'staking out positions,' which is diplomatic-speak for hiding under the bed and hoping the monster goes away. These are the same leaders who preach about the 'rules-based international order' while overseeing systems that ensure the 'rules' only apply to the people who can’t afford to fly private to Switzerland. They are horrified by Trump not because he is a threat to democracy, but because he is a threat to the decorum of their exploitation. He’s doing the quiet part loud, and nothing upsets a Davos regular more than someone shouting about theft while they’re trying to commit it politely in a whisper.

There is a profound irony in watching these architects of global misery wring their hands over 'dinosaur diplomacy.' They act as though Trump is an aberration, a freak of nature that stumbled into their garden, rather than the inevitable result of the world they built. The Davos elite created the vacuum that a T-Rex was bound to fill. They spent decades gutting the middle class and elevating the market to the status of a god, and now they’re shocked—shocked!—that the god they created has teeth and an appetite for Danish territories. Their 'scrupulously polite' debates are nothing more than a funeral dirge for a world they already broke.

Ultimately, the choice Newsom presents—mate or be devoured—is a false one. In the long run, the result is the same. Whether you are swallowed whole by a spray-tanned carnivore or slowly digested by the polite, technocratic parasites of the WEF, the outcome for the rest of humanity remains unchanged. We are merely the scenery in their prehistoric drama, watching as a group of people who couldn’t find Greenland on a map argue over who gets to sell the ice as it melts. Davos is not the solution; it is the laboratory where the apocalypse is being refined, and this year, the specimen has finally escaped its cage. It’s T-Rex versus the Jellyfish, and frankly, I’m rooting for the meteor.