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 o...