Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Ah, Donald J. Trump — our self-proclaimed “peacetime president,” a man so devoted to global tranquility that he nearly started wars just to prove how peaceful he was. Ever the Nobel Priest Prize hopeful (he never did quite nail down the pronunciation, but who’s counting?), Trump spent the weekend heroically attempting to deploy troops to war-torn Portland — a city under siege by the unholy forces of craft beer, food trucks, and rainbow flags.

Yes, dear reader, while the rest of the world slept soundly under the oppressive rule of peace and lattes, Trump saw the warning signs. There were people in Portland… smiling. They were riding bikes that weren’t even motorcycles. There were coffee shops where baristas refused to salute the flag before serving a macchiato. The horror! It was time, Trump decided, to defend America from this terrifying hipster insurgency before avocado toast reached the Midwest.

Reports say he gathered his top generals — or at least those who hadn’t yet resigned — to brief them on Operation Hopocalypse Now. The mission: send federal troops to Portland to restore “law and order” by eradicating microbreweries, dismantling co-ops, and capturing the elusive warlord known as “Todd, the vegan DJ.” Sources close to the White House confirmed that Trump believed Antifa stood for “Antiques, Furniture, and Tattoos,” and that he was determined to liberate the city from the tyranny of artisanal living.

Of course, Trump’s humanitarian instincts were also on full display. “We must save Portland,” he declared, “from the radical leftists who want to paint everything rainbow. Not on my watch — we love rainbows, the best rainbows, but only when they lead to gold.” Rumor has it he even considered dropping care packages filled with MAGA hats, Chick-fil-A gift cards, and the occasional can of Bud Light (before he found out it had gone woke).

Meanwhile, Portland residents were seen bravely enduring the invasion by sipping hazy IPAs and watching live streams of the federal agents trying to navigate the city’s labyrinth of food carts. One particularly fierce skirmish broke out at a kombucha stand when troops mistook a group of yoga instructors for enemy combatants. The instructors responded with the deadliest weapon known to man — condescending calmness.

As Trump waited for his Nobel “Priest” Prize to arrive in the mail (he heard the committee was running it through Mar-a-Lago for “inspection”), he took to Truth Social to declare victory: “Portland liberated! Peace restored! Craft beer canceled! They said it couldn’t be done — but I’m a very stable genius, and I know more about peace than anyone, maybe ever.”

And so, history will forever remember this moment — when America’s bravest peacetime president saved us not from foreign threats or domestic crises, but from the existential menace of kale salads, gender-neutral pronouns, and IPA flights served in mason jars.

Some presidents end wars. Trump, in his infinite wisdom, started one with brunch culture — and for that, perhaps, he deserves his Nobel after all. Or at least a participation trophy from the Proud Boys.