If you needed definitive proof that reality has snapped its tether and drifted aimlessly into the stratosphere of the absurd, look no further than the current diplomatic crisis engulfing the Western world. It isn’t about nuclear proliferation, climate catastrophe, or the collapse of the global banking system. No, the leaders of the free world are currently locked in a geopolitical cage match over who gets to own a very large, very cold island that frankly doesn’t want to be bought.

We are, once again, talking about Greenland. And because we are living in a timeline written by a stoned sitcom writer from the 1990s, the protagonist of this saga is Donald Trump, treating international borders like they are lines drawn in sharpie on a hurricane map. The former and future President has decided that the acquisition of Greenland is “imperative for national and world security,” a phrase usually reserved for securing uranium stockpiles or preventing pandemics, not purchasing 836,000 square miles of ice and indifference.

When asked how far he would go to seize the territory, Trump offered the terrifyingly vague teaser trailer line: “You’ll find out.” This is not the language of diplomacy; it is the language of a Batman villain threatening Gotham City’s water supply. It implies that there is a plan, though anyone who has watched this man operate for the last decade knows the plan is likely written on a cocktail napkin from Mar-a-Lago in crayon. The US delegation, bless their terrified hearts, had reportedly agreed with the Danish foreign minister to conduct talks behind closed doors. Naturally, Trump immediately took to social media to blow those doors off their hinges, proving yet again that the only thing leakier than the Titanic is this administration’s internal discipline.

But the pièce de résistance of this farce was Trump posting an AI-generated visual of himself planting a US flag on Greenland with the caption “US territory, est. 2026.” We have reached the stage of governance where foreign policy is being conducted via fan-fiction. We are no longer dealing with statecraft; we are dealing with a vision board for a megalomaniac. The image, devoid of soul or reality, perfectly encapsulates the modern era: it doesn’t matter if it’s true, it only matters if it gets engagement. He is manifesting destiny through an algorithm, declaring ownership of a sovereign people’s land because a computer program drew a picture of him doing it.

Europe, in its infinite fecklessness, is clutching its pearls. They condemn this “new colonialism,” which is rich coming from the continent that invented the original brand. The irony is suffocating. You have European leaders scrambling to condemn the commodification of nations, while Trump points at the UK’s decision to hand over sovereignty of the Chagos islands to Mauritius—calling it “shocking” and sarcastically labelling the UK a “brilliant” ally—as justification for his own shopping spree. In Trump’s zero-sum worldview, if the British are losing inventory, the Americans must acquire some to balance the ledger. It is the logic of a hoarder, not a statesman.

Then there is Emmanuel Macron, the French President who seems to believe he is playing chess while Trump is playing whac-a-mole with a sledgehammer. Macron’s attempt to organize a G7 meeting or a dinner at the Élysée Palace has been met with the diplomatic equivalent of a swirlie. Trump has threatened France with 200% tariffs on wine and champagne because Macron refused to join a Gaza “board of peace.” Let that sink in. The tariff schedule for fermented grapes is now being dictated by a refusal to participate in a vanity project board. Trump dismissed Macron entirely, noting that “nobody wants him because he’s going to be out of office very soon,” a projection so transparent you could use it as a windowpane.

And where will this circus culminate? Davos, of course. The World Economic Forum, that annual pilgrimage where the global elite gather to pretend they care about the poor while drinking scotch that costs more than your car. Trump has declared there will be a “meeting of the various parties” on Greenland there. It is the perfect setting. The billionaires can look out over the snow—while it lasts—and negotiate the sale of the planet’s surface area like they are trading baseball cards.

Trump claims “things are going to work out very well.” For whom? Certainly not for the concept of national sovereignty, or dignity, or sanity. But for the content creators, the outrage merchants, and the cynical observers watching the West cannibalize itself over a real estate deal? It’s going to be spectacular.