Peace Over a Piece of PieWhen loyalty replaces expertise, you don’t get diplomacy; you get a Miami-made surrender plan that shocks allies, delights Putin, and proves Trump’s team can’t negotiate their way out of a salad.Guest article by Michael Cohen. Remember to follow him on Substack for more by clicking here. Michael is also racing to 500K followers on YouTube! Subscribe today for free here
There’s a special kind of madness that happens when you let amateurs play diplomat. You know the type: guys who think a peace plan is just a real-estate term with extra syllables, who believe foreign policy begins and ends with a yacht, a donor dinner, and a half-baked AI PowerPoint put together between cocktails. And yet, in Trump’s America, this is exactly who’s sitting at the grown-ups’ table, carving up global stability like it’s a cheesecake at Prime 112. Let me put it plainly: this is what happens when you replace competence with cronies and let self-interested acolytes cosplay as statesmen. You don’t get diplomacy. You don’t get strategy. You don’t even get common sense. No, what you get is a surrender plan so lopsided, so humiliating, so cosmically stupid that even Zelenskyy—a man fighting for the literal survival of his country—had to politely pretend not to bang his head against the nearest wall. Because the first draft of Trump’s “peace plan”—and I swear to you, I could not make this shit up if I tried—wasn’t forged in a West Wing war room or the State Department’s secure suite. It was hashed out over dinners in Miami. Miami. As in: shorts, cigars, the faint smell of salt water and spray tan. The birthplace of America’s least-impressive geopolitical brainstorm. And who were the midwives of this diplomatic miracle? Steve Witkoff, real-estate mogul turned “special envoy,” and Jared Kushner, freshly back from brokering a “peace agreement” between Israel and Hamas after picking up another billion-dollar check from Mohammed Bin Salman. These two geniuses sat down with Kirill Dmitriev, one of Putin’s guys, for what The Wall Street Journal delicately called “three days of intensive discussions.” Translation: expensive dinners where a Kremlin insider told them exactly what Moscow wanted, and they—shock of shocks—nodded along helpfully like interns praying for a good Yelp review. The result? A 28-point “peace plan” that read less like American diplomacy and more like Putin’s Christmas wish list. Ukraine must give up territory? And what does Russia give up? Wait… here it comes. Russia gives up absolutely nothing. Not even the dignity of pretending to negotiate. You’d think the Secretary of State would have been involved, right? You’d assume Marco Rubio—America’s top diplomat, allegedly—would be briefed on the plan that could reshape Europe. You’d be wrong. Rubio only learned the “full scope” of the plan the day it leaked. Not from a briefing. Not from his staff. Not from the President. From the news. From Substack. From X. Imagine walking into the office on a Monday and discovering that two guys who shouldn’t be trusted to negotiate a brunch reservation just redrew the borders of Eastern Europe behind your back. And they did it while you were busy shaking hands with Saudi leadership. Rubio was reportedly handed a copy of the plan at the White House like it was a menu someone forgot to send earlier. “Here, Marco, take a look; don’t mind the ketchup stains, that’s just Jared.” This is the part where I pause and say: It is the same sloppy, ad-hoc, diner-napkin idiocy that fueled everything from Trump Tower Moscow to Sharpie-gate. But this time, instead of storm paths and real-estate facades, the stakes were life, death, sovereignty, and the future of Europe. But when you staff a government with loyalists instead of experts, this is the inevitable result: foreign policy by group text. Witkoff and Kushner even invited Zelenskyy’s national security adviser to Miami, because nothing says “serious diplomacy” like flying to Florida to be told that your country should surrender. Rustem Umerov didn’t mince words when he said, “the plan was better for Moscow than Kyiv.” No kidding. And here’s the dark punchline: Most of the provisions were drafted before Ukraine’s team even arrived. That’s not negotiation. Supporters of Ukraine in Congress were floored when the plan leaked. Shocked. Outraged. Some genuinely couldn’t tell if it was satire. Let me assure them: it’s not satire. It just looks like satire because the people running the process aren’t qualified for anything more complex than a ribbon-cutting at a strip mall. Since then, the “plan” has been revised to 19 points—trimmed, softened, spun, resold. The most offensive bits, like Ukraine giving up territory and abandoning NATO, were removed once Rubio realized he was expected to sell this flaming trash pile of stupidity to a world that still has functioning brain cells. Rubio now calls the document a “living, breathing” thing. Meanwhile, Putin says the original version “could form the basis” for a final settlement. Of course he does. The first draft might as well have been printed on Russian letterhead. Let me leave you with this: When incompetence becomes policy, when loyalty replaces expertise, when major geopolitical decisions are made in Miami dining rooms instead of briefing rooms, you don’t get peace. You get chaos wrapped in delusion, sold as strategy, and served with a side of pie. And Zelenskyy, rightfully, sent it back to the kitchen. Because Ukraine wants peace. But it deserves peace made by professionals, not a surrender plan drafted between appetizers. I’M COUNTING ON YOU!PLEASE SUPPORT INDEPENDENT JOURNALISTS…
Yeah, I know; you’re tired. This shit is exhausting. Guess what? Me too. But I’ve spent the last eight years throwing punches in the dark so truth could get a little daylight. And now I’m asking you to step into the ring with me. Because if you’re still reading this, you already get it: We are not passive observers of the downfall. We are the resistance. We call out the liars. We drag corruption by the collar into the sunlight. We say the quiet parts out loud; and we don’t flinch. But here’s the truth: I can’t do this solo. Not anymore. The storm is already here. We are standing in it. And it’s wearing stars and stripes like camouflage, preaching “freedom” while it sells fascism at retail. So let me ask you: Because this is not a scroll-and-forget read. This is a living, breathing, fire-breathing movement; and movements don’t move unless you do. We need to be louder than spin, tougher than propaganda, and impossible to gaslight. So if you believe truth matters—if you’re sick of the bullshit, if you’re ready to stop screaming into the algorithm and start pushing back with purpose—this is your next step. HERE’S HOW YOU PUT YOUR FOOT ON THE GAS:
And yeah, Founding Members? The first 240 of you will get a signed, numbered, limited-edition Substack version of Revenge. That’s not just a collector’s item. That’s receipts. Proof you didn’t sit this one out. But let’s be clear: This isn’t about a book. You want to make a difference? Then make it—right now. Because if we don’t fight for truth, no one will. They can’t drown us out. Let’s be so loud they wish we were just angry tweets. Let’s go!
|
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.