Apocalypse Warm-Up Tour

In the sweaty corridors of Washington, there’s a palpable unease. The clock ticks louder in the Situation Room, and the tension feels thicker than a barroom floor after a two-for-one night. The problem, you see, is not just the impending doom of World War III—but where it starts. Ukraine’s got the spotlight for now, but there’s a gnawing concern that Israel, the original headliner, might feel snubbed. This is a diplomatic disaster for the ages.

The State Department, that grand cathedral of American self-delusion, has been in overdrive, assuring Netanyahu that Israel’s role in the apocalypse is safe. “Don’t worry, Bibi,” you can almost hear them muttering through clenched jaws, “Ukraine is just the warm-up act. Your turn for the main event will come soon enough.” It’s like they’re negotiating the lineup for an end-of-the-world music festival—headliner, opening act, surprise encore. Everyone wants top billing for the apocalypse.

The absurdity would be hilarious if it weren’t so deadly. Ukraine, for all its heroics and its very real suffering, is playing the role of the tragic understudy, fighting valiantly while Washington’s evangelical wing squabbles about the proper venue for Armageddon. “The end of the world starts in Israel!” they cry. “It’s practically written into the script.” Never mind the facts on the ground. Never mind the trillion-dollar machinery grinding its gears in Europe.

There’s a certain comedy in it, dark as a politician’s soul. Imagine a State Department official sweating through their blazer, on the phone with Netanyahu: “Listen, we know Ukraine’s stealing the show right now, but trust us, the main event—the real start of World War III—will be yours. We just needed a warm-up act to work out the kinks.”

Of course, some will say this is all nonsense, that America isn’t starting World War III—it’s merely responding to crises, valiantly defending freedom, yada yada yada. But let’s not kid ourselves. Responding to crises? America’s been “responding” to crises with the subtlety of a sledgehammer at a porcelain auction since Truman dropped the big one. If this is a reaction, it’s the kind of reaction you have after chugging a bottle of cheap tequila and deciding to punch the guy who looked at you funny.

And yet, the propaganda machine rolls on. The idea that Ukraine is just a sideshow is absurd to anyone paying attention. The U.S. isn’t responding to events—it’s orchestrating them, pushing the pieces around like a drunken chess master who thinks every move is genius. Russia’s in the crosshairs, China’s waiting in the wings, and the world watches as the stage is set for something big, something biblical.

But here’s the kicker: The same people who swear by the Bible’s prophecies are now caught in this bizarre balancing act. To them, World War III isn’t just geopolitics—it’s destiny. The Second Coming, the end of days, the grand finale. And Israel? Israel is the Holy Land, the stage where Act Three of the apocalypse is supposed to play out. Ukraine is just an inconvenient subplot, the warm-up band you have to sit through to get to the good stuff.

It’s all so perfectly absurd. The State Department, that bastion of incompetence and hubris, now has the impossible task of juggling these delusions while simultaneously keeping the world from spiraling into chaos. “Don’t worry, Mr. Netanyahu,” you can almost hear them say, “The headline spot for Armageddon is still yours. Just let us handle the appetizers in Eastern Europe first.”

So here we are, careening toward catastrophe with all the grace of a drunk driver on black ice, while Washington reassures itself that it’s all part of the plan. And maybe it is. Maybe this is exactly what they want. After all, nothing says “global superpower” like making sure you control the opening act and the finale of the apocalypse.

But for now, Ukraine fights, Israel waits, and the world holds its breath. Because if there’s one thing we’ve learned from the long, bloody saga of American foreign policy, it’s this: The show must go on. And God help us all when the headliner finally takes the stage.

What’s the Cosmos Punchline You Are Waiting For?

I keep waiting for the punchline. A cosmic punchline, to be specific. Maybe a booming voice from the heavens to drop the gag and clear the smoke, because it sure as hell can’t be real. What kind of sick joke have we wandered into this time? The war in Ukraine—stalemated and bloody, grinding on like a meat grinder with no off switch—set to the dull roar of geopolitics played by armchair generals with more hair dye than brains. Then there’s Palestine, where “genocide” is the polite word we use to describe the meticulous erasure of a people. And all while the U.S. political machinery—once marketed as the Last Bastion of Freedom™—has choked on its own gridlock, content to sip cocktails with the very capital that’s designed the mess. All of it. Every bit of it.

Is this the great cosmic joke? The punchline so dry, so dark, you can barely hear it over the drone strikes and CNBC stock tickers?

Let’s start with Ukraine. It’s 2024, and yet here we are—watching Cold War reruns but in high-def. Russia stumbles into a war it thought would last weeks, but now the landscape is littered with bodies and rusted tanks as far as the eye can see. And what’s on the other side? The West, doling out arms with the subtlety of a blackjack dealer at a casino, waiting to see how many chips they can lose before the house explodes. Everyone’s playing the long game, except for the Ukrainians who don’t have the luxury of games—they’re playing survival. But hey, war is great for business. The defense contractors are licking their chops like they just found out Santa Claus is real and his sack is full of billion-dollar contracts. Cha-ching.

Then we glance toward Palestine. What’s there to say that hasn’t been whitewashed already? Words like “war crimes” and “ethnic cleansing” float around like balloons at a child’s party—except the party’s been over for 75 years, and there’s blood on the floor. The bodies pile up, but somehow it’s never the right time to talk about it. “Complex situation,” they say. It’s about as “complex” as a brick wall hitting you in the face. Israel’s playing chess with bulldozers, while Palestine gets checkers with rocks. And the world watches with a kind of selective amnesia—Oh, is that still happening? Yes, Karen. It’s still happening, and it’s going to keep happening until someone remembers that human rights aren’t an item on a “to-do” list.

And while we’re distracted by the explosions, we’ve got the good ol’ USA trying to be the referee in a game where it lost the whistle years ago. I mean, gridlock politics has always been a joke—two parties, equally corrupt, with the collective foresight of a goldfish on meth. But now it’s a full-on parody. You can’t even get these jokers to agree on funding their own government, let alone tackle climate change or fix healthcare. The elephant and the donkey are so deep into their wrestling match, they don’t even realize they’re both choking on the same chain—the one tied to Wall Street and Silicon Valley, keeping them nice and tame. Don’t worry, folks, democracy’s just taking a nap. For the next 50 years.

But hey, at least the capital’s doing fine, right? Cozy up to it. Pour it a drink. Capital doesn’t care if you’re Republican, Democrat, or a libertarian freak who thinks Bitcoin is the second coming of Jesus. It just wants to be stroked and fed, like a fat, lazy cat that can still somehow land on its feet every time. Hell, it’s already one step ahead. While we’re all doom-scrolling and arguing over whose fault it is that the world’s on fire, capital is already planning its next vacation to Mars. Elon Musk is building rockets while the world burns, and I swear he’s doing it just to rub our faces in it.

The cosmos has to have a punchline for this. There has to be something coming at the end—some grand, twisted laugh from the universe itself. Otherwise, what are we even doing here? Watching atrocities on YouTube while eating takeout. Arguing online in a digital Tower of Babel where everyone’s shouting into the void and no one’s listening. Maybe the joke’s on us.

Or maybe the joke is us.

Cosmic absurdity would be a mercy at this point. A giggle from the gods, some divine laughter rolling down the heavens to let us know it’s all been one big cosmic farce. But we aren’t so lucky. There’s no laugh track. No curtain call. Just the blood-soaked ground and the drone of machines, churning on and on.

What’s the punchline you’re waiting for?

Shared Values

In the labyrinthine corridors of modern politics and ideology, the concept of “shared values” emerges as a monolithic beacon, guiding disparate factions towards a semblance of unity. Yet, this beacon is an elaborate illusion, masking the gory underbelly of historical sins and geopolitical machinations. To dissect this paradox, we must traverse the grimy streets of history and politics, with a gaze sharp enough to cut through the fog of propaganda and deception. Enter the grotesque dance of Nazi scientists, Ukrainian Bandera, and Israeli apartheid—a sordid ménage à trois that reveals the shocking and often sinister dynamics of shared values.

In the post-World War II world, the integration of former Nazi scientists into the corridors of American and Soviet scientific establishments was not merely a strategic move but a harbinger of ideological compromise. These men, tainted by their participation in the barbarities of the Third Reich, were absorbed into Western scientific ventures under the aegis of “shared values”—or more precisely, shared strategic interests. The value in question was not one of ethical consistency or moral purity but a cynical calculation of utility. The promises of technological advancement and military superiority were deemed more critical than the ideological baggage these scientists carried.

Thus, the concept of shared values here is not an ethical stance but a transactional agreement—a perverse form of camaraderie built on mutual benefit rather than mutual respect. The U.S. and its allies, hungry for the spoils of Nazi scientific prowess, extended an olive branch to those who had once danced to the tune of fascism. The values in question were not about human dignity or democratic ideals but about leveraging the horrific legacies of the past to secure a more dominant position in the future.

Turn your gaze to Ukraine, where the figure of Stepan Bandera stands as a symbol of nationalist fervor and ethnic purity. Bandera’s collaboration with the Nazis during World War II complicates his legacy—a fact often glossed over in contemporary nationalist rhetoric. His vision of Ukrainian independence, which entailed violent purges and collaboration with the very forces that sought to annihilate millions, clashes with the supposed values of democracy and human rights that his modern admirers claim to uphold. The manipulation of Bandera’s legacy to bolster a sense of national pride while obscuring the violent and exclusionary aspects of his ideology reveals another facet of the shared values fallacy.

In the Israeli context, the term apartheid emerges as a haunting echo of South Africa’s racial segregation, reconfigured to describe the political and social realities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The Israeli state, born from the ashes of the Holocaust and positioned as a haven for Jews worldwide, has become embroiled in an ongoing struggle that involves not only questions of territorial sovereignty but also the moral imperatives of human rights. The shared values here are once again exposed as a duplicitous construct—one that aligns itself with the historical suffering of Jews while perpetuating its own forms of exclusion and control over another population.

The irony is as stark as it is troubling: the moral currency of shared values, which was once a means to unite disparate factions under the guise of higher principles, has been debased into a tool for justifying the perpetuation of historical grievances and geopolitical exploitation. The grotesque ballet of Nazi scientists, Bandera’s legacy, and Israeli apartheid is a testament to how shared values can be reconfigured, twisted, and manipulated to serve ends far removed from their purported ethical origins.

The shared values paradigm is less a beacon of moral clarity and more a sprawling circus of political and ideological expediency. It reveals how historical sins, nationalist fervor, and geopolitical strategies converge in a macabre dance that perpetuates the cycles of violence and oppression. In this hall of mirrors, the values shared are not those of universal human dignity but of strategic advantage, ideological convenience, and historical amnesia.

Thus, the paradox of shared values—revealed through the machinations of Nazi scientists, Bandera’s legacy, and Israeli apartheid—is a stark reminder of the dissonance between professed principles and the grim realities of their application. The shared values of our time are less about enlightenment and more about the preservation and perpetuation of power through the sleight of hand of historical revisionism and political expediency.