Here we go again. The United States of America, the supposed land of the free and home of the brave, is acting like a spoiled child in a candy store. But this time, the candy is a massive, frozen island where almost nobody lives. I am talking about Greenland.

Apparently, the idea that Greenland is somehow "essential" to us has come back. It is back with a vengeance. We just cannot help ourselves. We see a big chunk of land on a map, and our first instinct is not to learn about the people there. It isn't to respect their history. No, our first instinct is to pull out our wallet and ask, "How much?"

It is pathetic. It is greedy. And quite frankly, it is incredibly stupid.

Let’s look at the history here. This is not just a Donald Trump thing, although he certainly made it loud and weird. But this obsession goes back way further. Did you know the Nazis wanted Greenland? Yeah, those guys. They wanted it for weather stations so they could better bomb Europe. Great company to be in, right? Then you had the Soviets during the Cold War. They were looking at the ice, licking their chops, thinking about how easy it would be to fly bombers over the top of the world.

And let’s not forget Harry Truman. In 1946, he actually offered $100 million in gold for Greenland. Gold! Like he was a pirate king making a trade. He treated a land of people and culture like it was a used car on a lot.

Now, in the modern era, the obsession is back. Why? Because we are scared. We are terrified that China might buy it first. That is how our brain works now. We don't want the ice cube because we love ice. We want it because we don't want the other guy to have it. It is the logic of a toddler in a sandbox. "That is my shovel!" No, it isn't, you moron. It belongs to the kid holding it. But in global politics, possession means nothing if you have a bigger gun and a bigger checkbook.

They say it is about "security." That is the word the suits in Washington use to justify everything. They say we need to control the Arctic. They say we need early warning systems. Translation: We need more places to put our weapons of mass destruction so we can sleep better at night.

And then there are the resources. Rare earth minerals. That is the fancy term for the shiny rocks we need to make our cell phones work. We need those rocks so we can doom-scroll on Twitter and argue with strangers about politics. Greenland has those rocks. And because the ice is melting—thanks to us ruining the planet—it is getting easier to dig those rocks up.

Think about the irony of that. We heat up the world, melt the glaciers, and then say, "Hey, look! New rocks! Let's buy the place!" It is sick. It is a level of greed that is hard to wrap your head around.

The people of Greenland have said they are not for sale. They have said this clearly. But do we listen? Of course not. We treat their refusal like a negotiating tactic. We think everyone has a price. That is the American way, isn't it? Everything is a transaction. Every relationship is a deal. Every handshake is just a way to check if the other guy has a watch you can steal.

Trump treated it like a real estate deal. He probably wanted to put a gold tower on an iceberg. But the Democrats aren't much better. They just use nicer words. They talk about "strategic partnerships" and "mutual interests." It means the same thing. It means: "We want your stuff."

Both sides of the aisle are guilty of this imperial arrogance. They look at a map and see pieces on a game board. They don't see human beings. They don't see a fragile ecosystem. They just see power and profit.

And honestly, what would we even do with Greenland if we "bought" it? We can barely take care of the roads in Ohio. We have bridges falling down and schools with no books. But sure, let’s spend billions of dollars to acquire a frozen wasteland three times the size of Texas. That makes total sense.

This fixation is a symptom of a dying empire. When you stop trying to build things and start trying to just grab things, you are in trouble. We are running out of ideas. We are running out of friends. So we look North, to the cold and the dark, and we think, "Maybe if I own that, I will feel big again."

It is sad. It is funny in a dark way. But mostly, it is just exhausting. The world is not a pie for us to slice up. But try telling that to the politicians. They are too busy sharpening their knives.