Tiny Vision, Big Stage

 The podium at the United Nations, once a sanctum for statesmanship and sober reckoning, groaned pitifully beneath the weight of a bloated comic carnival barker in a baggy suit, flapping like an elderly circus seal for over fifty minutes. What was once a crucible for global consensus had been hijacked by a deranged ringmaster who mistook belligerence for strength, applause for legitimacy. The scaffolding of international alliances—delicate, deliberate, hard-won—was treated like stage décor, minus the cheap, gaudy, and fake Home Depot gold, for a soliloquy of self-congratulation, absent the blueprints of shared humanity; replaced by the crude etchings of grievance and vanity. It was not diplomacy; it was demolition dressed down in patriot drag, debased into a ledger of petty vendettas and theatrical chest-thumping. The world did not lean in to listen—it sat stunned, bracing for the next verbal Molotov hurled from a pulpit now repurposed as a bully’s balcony. The orange-tinged face of America now staggered across the global stage like a drunk with a sledgehammer, mistaking destruction for deliberation. What remained was not a monument to vision, but a mausoleum of squandered credibility—its foundation cracked, its walls echoing with hollow boasts, claims, and lies reminiscent of a used car salesman hawking lemons destined to break down no sooner than the hapless buyer leaves the lot. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_9kY6sz_Uc