FRIDAY FAIL

US policy concerning Ukraine is mystifying. It would be entertaining if it weren’t fraught with the possibility of a little thing like the end of all life on the planet. Antony Blinkered, over there at the State Department, has as much sense as Forrest Gump. Russia’s about to attack Ukraine! Get our people out of our embassy! Get our citizens out! Send some soldiers in there! Send in war machines; $500 million more for our weapons manufacturers courtesy of the US taxpayer!

“But wait,” say a few sane Europeans. “Where’s your evidence the Russians will attack?”

“Why it’s right there in the New York Times,” reply US foreign policy knobs. “Who could dispute their authority? Anyway calm down. We’re not sending our soldiers to Ukraine.”

“But you just said you were.”

“No, we meant just to get our civilians out and maybe to train the Ukrainians.”

“Why? The Russians say war with Ukraine is unthinkable.”

“And you believe them over us? Read the damn NYT! They have the facts; we gave them to them.”

“And what are the facts?”

“Russia’s about to attack.”

“Where’s your proof?”

“Read the Times!”

“The EU and even the Ukrainians are begging you to calm down. The Ukrainians and the Russians just agreed to uphold the ceasefire in the Donbas region.”

“Fuck the EU, and who cares what the Ukrainians think?”

“So your proof is the New York Times says so and the Times’s proof is you said so.

“Exactly.”

“If things go bad, which they will, Europe loses, not you. So piss off.”

“Well, if the cowardly Europeans won’t stand up for Ukraine that means the US has to, or else we’ll all be speaking Russian in 5 years . . . instead of Spanish. NATO’s (trap)door is always open.”

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Of course none of this makes sense, just like the rest of the foreign policy agenda. Join me, if you dare, inside Biden’s empty skull to see what we can learn.

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Where am I? Who am I? Why is there a mask on my face? What’s going on? Mommy, I’m hungry. . . My poll numbers are way down. How will I win in ’24 without mail-in cheating? It’s Trump’s fault. Or covid’s. Shitty omicron isn’t deadly enough! The people are catching on, and my bosses are shitting themselves. They want a war and told me I need a war to divert people’s attention. Prod the Russians to attack and get them bogged down in another Afghanistan, they told me. After all, a nation’s borders are sacrosanct; that’s what I stand for. . . Oops, I’m not allowed to stand for anything on my own. They told me not to think at all. . . I hope to be president some day. I know I’m up to the job. After all, I’ve been a train engineer, a coal miner, a professor, a civil rights activist. . . Uh oh, I think I just shit myself. Where’s the pope? I’m dirty now. Need a shower. Where’s Ashley? . . . What was I saying? Oh. War. If the Russkies take the bait we’ll blast them back to the Stone Age, when I was born. I was told I can’t accept Russian demands for pulling back our nukes and troops from their border. Who do the Russians think they are trying to frustrate our plans to encircle them then splinter their nation and take over their resources? How unreasonable can they be? I’ll kick those fuckers out of Swiffer. If we can lose to goat herders we can certainly lose to the Cossacks. . . I said win! Don’t question me, liar! C’mon, man. Want to sit down and compare IQs? I went to Yale law school on a full scholarship and came in first in my class and first in the next three classes, too. Just ask my wife, Morgan Fairchild. Plus I have three degrees from Oxford. Three degrees; that’s cold. Mommy, where’s my blankie?. . . Where was I? Ukraine. The Ukraine. Make up your mind already. I don’t think they should have a The. You have to be a special country to have the definite article in front of it. The United States! Ever hear anyone say ‘The Canada?’ The only thing they’ve given to the world is poutine, and it tastes like Hillary’s wrinkly ass covered in cheese; I know because I kiss it a lot. Just ask Corn Pop or, er, you know, uh, that Negro fellow . . . Nelson Mandela. I visited him in prison just last week. . . I should check my bank account to see if Zelensky made the latest payment. If not I’ll false flag his ass straight to hell and blame it on the Russkies, or maybe I’ll let the Russians invade a little. Might have to CIA that Croatian lying dog-faced pony soldier, what’s-his-name, who dared question me on this. . . Boy, do I want an ice cream cone . . . I did not plagiarize! I wrote that “Four score and, um, seventeen . . . you know the thing” speech. . . I need a little girl to snuggle. No, Kamala, you’re way too old! And dark. Get off your knees and bring me a little white girl . . .We have to get Crimea back to make America safe again and stop some pipeline or other—they told me, but I forgot—to make Europe safe for American natural gas. My constituents—the ones at Raytheon and Texaco and Davos—demand it! Ukraine should be in NATO now. Or maybe they already are. I forget. I should write things down. Where are my crayons? . . . What was I thinking? Let’s see . . . Morgan Fairchild . . . Poutine . . . Ice cream—I want some . . . Little girl—I want some . . . Oh yeah; war! Winning in Ukraine is worth World War III, and I’m sure all Americans would risk a fiery death for them. 15% of them agree with sending our troops there; that’s the best response to any of my policies since I wasn’t elected—oo, look! An entire troupe of tiny underpants gnomes. Aren’t they adorable? . . . Get out of my pants, you little bastards! . . . Where am I? . . . Hey, that bridge just collapsed. The Russians did it! Or Trump. Or covid. . . Every day and in every way I’m getting better and better. Someone change my diaper! I’m the vice-president, for God’s sake.

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Shit. Sorry. I got lost in the labyrinth of Brandon’s mind for a minute; I’ll be addled for the rest of the day. Friday Fail of the Week goes to the State Department and its cohorts at the Pentagon, and, of course, the premier malevolent organization on the planet, the CIA, for conducting the most incompetent, sinister, and dangerous foreign policy on earth.

Enjoy FF. And let’s all give a cheer for Canadian truckers. Drive right up Trudeau’s arse and shut down Ottawa! For good.