Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter, anger, historical recognition, and sudden distrust of people who say “this is for your own good.” Not approved by wellness gurus, congressional committees, or anyone who believes discomfort equals virtue. Read or watch at your own risk.

Year one of His Imperial Kumquat’s second act was domestic thuggery: a slow, sticky, bureaucratic mugging of the Constitution in broad daylight, with Our Leadership standing around like mall cops arguing over whose radio battery died first. Year two? Now the swagger goes international. Why settle for bullying your own institutions when you can expand the brand and start shaking down the whole hemisphere?

And that’s the pitch now: Venezuela is in our “backyard,” and apparently, in Washington DC, “backyard” means you own it, like a dog that’s found a bone and is prepared to bite God Himself over possession rights. We didn’t like the guy in charge, so—poof—there goes the old postwar pretense that borders matter and war is something you do only when you’re attacked or authorized, not when you’re annoyed.

Here’s the part you’re supposed to swallow without gagging: if the United States can treat another country like a misbehaving rental property, then every other strongman on Earth gets a shiny new permission slip. You don’t have to love Putin to see the sales pitch: “If Washington gets to ‘stabilize’ its neighborhood with force, why can’t I stabilize mine?” Same for Xi. Same for Netanyahu. The whole planet becomes one big HOA run by men who settle disputes by lighting your house on fire and calling it “maintenance.”

Remember the post–World War II order? The one built—at least on paper—to stop exactly this kind of “might makes right” territorial bullying? It was supposed to be the great human compromise: no more empires carving up the map because they feel entitled, no more “spheres of influence” where the strong eat the weak and call it geography.

Well, that order is getting replaced with something older, uglier, and much more honest: the pre–World War II model where thugs draw circles on a globe and say, “Mine.” Not a rules-based system—more like a bar fight with flags.

For decades, Washington DC kept up a glossy moral cover story: democracy, alliances, freedom, humanitarian concern, soft power, that whole sermon. Sure, the sermon was frequently accompanied by coups, friendly dictators, and the occasional “misunderstanding” involving napalm, but the packaging mattered. It gave the empire a patina—thin, but shiny—enough to sell itself as a necessary force for order.

Now? The mask is falling off and landing face-first in the oil.

Because listen to the new gospel: “We’re going to have our very large United States oil companies go in, spend billions, fix the infrastructure, and start making money for the country.” That’s adorable. It’s the kind of sentence a pickpocket says while you’re still applauding his concern for your financial wellness. “Making money for the country” is the bedtime story. The grown-up translation is: they’ll make money for themselves, and the “country” is just the stage scenery.

And once you accept that logic—once you normalize “we can run your nation because we’ve got the hardware and you’ve got the resources”—you’ve officially entered the world where tyrants thrive. It’s not democracy versus authoritarianism anymore. It’s competing protection rackets, each with its own flag, its own propaganda, and its own list of “neighbors” who’d better behave.

That’s the nightmare on offer: three big blocs, three big bosses, three big excuses. One bloc under Putin’s boot, one under Xi’s, and one under Really stable genius—with assorted junior thugs playing regional assistant managers. In this model, being someone’s “neighbor” means you either comply with the neighbor’s wishes or you get “managed.” Sovereignty becomes a subscription plan: pay monthly in obedience, or enjoy the deluxe package of sanctions, destabilization, and helpful missiles.

And if this sounds new, it’s only because the marketing department refreshed the logo.

This is the Monroe Doctrine with a modern haircut. The original version, back in 1823, was a polite little throat-clear dressed up as moral principle: “Europe, keep your hands off the Americas.” It was charming, like a raccoon slapping a bear and declaring the forest a raccoon-only zone. James Monroe delivered it with the calm confidence of a man standing behind the British Navy and pretending it was his own muscle. Britain did the heavy lifting; America wrote the press release.

The pitch was noble. The subtext was territorial. The translation was: “We’re not strong enough to police this hemisphere yet, but we’re calling dibs.” Geopolitical puberty—awkward, loud, and convinced the future owes it something.

And then America grew up, found muscles, discovered gunboats, and learned that phrases like “regional stability” can lubricate almost anything. The doctrine stopped being a statement and became a hall pass. It didn’t stop empire so much as replace European empire with an American franchise: same extraction, new management, better pamphlets.

Then came the Roosevelt Corollary—the Monroe Doctrine on steroids, barging into the room without knocking. Suddenly intervention wasn’t a last resort; it was the default setting. “We’ll intervene proactively,” said the country inventing lynching and child labor, “because we’re the adult in the room.” Imperialism in khakis. Paternalism with a gun. Democracy delivered at bayonet point.

And the genius—if you can call it that—was the plausible innocence. Every intervention was framed as reluctant. Every occupation was temporary. Every catastrophe was unforeseen. And every time it blew up, the blame was assigned to the locals: corruption, culture, historical baggage. Washington DC just showed up with tanks and advice. Totally different.

By the Cold War, the doctrine became a hemispheric anxiety disorder. Any election that went left was a plot. Any reform that touched land or wealth was a threat. Coups bloomed like mold in a damp basement. Dictators got installed, funded, trained, and occasionally replaced when they stopped returning calls. And through all of it, America insisted it wasn’t an empire—because empires are European, and America is a guardian, a partner, a friend… who sometimes needs to slap you around for your own good.

Now the doctrine hasn’t died—it’s just updated its wardrobe. It learned to say “human rights” with a straight face. It hired consultants. It stopped calling invasions invasions and started calling them missions. Same racket, smoother fonts.

So that’s where you are tonight: watching a superpower revive its oldest habit—declare the neighborhood “ours,” treat other nations like misbehaving possessions, and act shocked when every other authoritarian on Earth takes notes.

Because the Kumquat World Order doesn’t make the world safe for democracy. It makes the world safe for tyrants—by turning tyranny into a bipartisan, multinational, market-tested operating system.

Now ask yourself: if this is the “backyard” logic in the open, what happens when Washington DC decides your street needs “stabilizing” too?

Which brings us to the domestic clown car: the opposition party—the one that keeps promising to save democracy—can’t even manage the radical act of appearing awake. Author and activist Norman Solomon has been saying the quiet part out loud: that Democratic leadership has grown so uninspiring, so disconnected, it’s like watching a fire department debate font choices while the building collapses. On Democracy Now! he argued we’ve been marched toward a “fascistic” politics because corporate Democrats keep failing to beat the GOP or offer policies that feel like they were designed for humans.

So, today, we’re doing something unfashionable: we’re going to treat this like it matters. Because once Washington DC gets comfortable abducting foreign leaders and talking like it’s running a petro-state, the “human toll” doesn’t stay overseas—it comes home in the language, the laws, the budgets, the policing, and the casual assumption that power is whatever the guy with the missiles says it is.

Norman Solomon is here with his latest book - The Blue Road to Trump Hell

His book scrutinizes how the behavior of many Democrats assisted Trump’s electoral triumphs. That scrutiny is important not only for clarity about the past. It also makes possible a focus on ways that such failures can be avoided in the future.”

Let’s talk about how the empire sells itself—abroad and at home.

Thanks to you, public media continues, even during defunding and the sudden obstacles of these times.

Thanks go to you, with a big smooch!

Get Norman Solomon’s Book for free here:

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Look for my complete book “A MAGA history of the United States” coming out in the next months. I perform chapters often on my LA public radio show, the Cary Harrison Files”, Fridays at 10 AM Pacific, KPFK 90.7 FM Los Angeles.

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