There is a peculiar, recurring delusion among the sentient dregs of the American electorate that their leaders possess anything resembling a 'strategy.' They desperately want to believe that the tectonic shifts of global power are being navigated by steady hands and brilliant minds, rather than the twitching impulses of ego-maniacal geriatrics. We are currently witnessing the second act of a tragicomedy where the 'Bully Pulpit' has been replaced by a padded cell with a high-speed internet connection. The transition from Theodore Roosevelt’s 'speak softly' philosophy to Donald Trump’s 'scream hysterically' methodology isn't just a shift in tone; it’s a full-body slide into the cultural abyss, and frankly, we all deserve the splat at the bottom.

Let us revisit the ghost of Teddy Roosevelt, a man whose primary contribution to history was dressing up like a colonialist safari guide and convincing the world that his 'Big Stick' was a tool for peace rather than a blunt instrument for American expansionism. Roosevelt managed to snag a Nobel Peace Prize in 1906 for arbitrating the end of the Russo-Japanese War. He was, by all accounts, a man who understood the value of the threat. The stick was visible, but the mouth was shut. It was the diplomacy of the predator—efficient, terrifying, and draped in the false dignity of a tuxedo. Fast forward over a century, and we have replaced the predator with a peacock that has been fed nothing but Adderall and grievances.

The current iteration of American foreign policy, as evidenced by the recent flurry of threats and performative rage, is a masterclass in the 'hysterical approach.' We are told that this is 'idiosyncratic statecraft,' a term invented by pundits who are too terrified to admit that the emperor isn’t just naked, but is currently live-streaming his own wardrobe malfunction. Trump’s approach to the world is that of a spoiled toddler in a china shop who has realized that if he screams loud enough about the price of the vases, people might forget he’s about to knock them over. It is a foreign policy dictated not by the State Department, but by the amygdala.

The Right, of course, laps this up. They see the hysteria as 'strength,' confusing a lack of impulse control with a bold rejection of globalist norms. They imagine the 'Big Stick' is being swung with purpose, oblivious to the fact that it’s mostly hitting them in the back of the head. Meanwhile, the Left clutches its collective pearls, weeping over the 'erosion of norms' as if those norms weren't just the polite, hushed whispers of previous administrations while they quietly bombed the same zip codes. The hypocrisy is a closed loop. The Left hates the noise; the Right loves the noise; nobody seems to care that the music has stopped playing entirely.

Then there is the matter of the Nobel Peace Prize—the ultimate participation trophy for the global elite. Trump’s obsession with this Swedish trinket is the one honest thing about him. He wants the validation of the very people he claims to despise. He craves the gold medal for 'Not Starting World War III (Yet),' an award Roosevelt received for stopping a war that had actually happened. We have reached a point in human history where we are expected to applaud a leader for merely threatening to destroy the global economy rather than actually doing it. It’s the diplomacy of the hostage-taker, and we are all currently in the trunk of the car, arguing about the quality of the upholstery.

This hysterical diplomacy is perfectly suited for an era where substance is a four-letter word. It doesn't matter if the threats are coherent or even possible to execute. In a world of twenty-four-hour news cycles and goldfish-level attention spans, the scream is the message. By the time the world realizes the 'Big Stick' is actually a spray-painted pool noodle, the news cycle has moved on to the next outrage. It is a perpetual motion machine of stupidity. We are witnessing the final stages of the American Century, and instead of a dignified sunset, we are getting a neon-lit rave in a graveyard.

Roosevelt’s 'Big Stick' era was a time of calculated imperialism; Trump’s 'Big Mouth' era is a time of accidental chaos. One was a threat of violence used to maintain order; the other is a threat of violence used to maintain ratings. In the end, the result is the same: the world remains a playground for narcissists with nuclear codes, and the rest of us are just the grass getting trampled. Don’t worry, though—I’m sure another tweet will fix it. Or a war. Whichever gets more engagement.