Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Here we are, standing proudly on the North American continent, gazing at our leadership trio like a geopolitical family portrait that accidentally hung itself in the Museum of Irony.

To the south, Mexico—long caricatured by American politicians who couldn’t find Oaxaca on a map—went ahead and elected a trained scientist, an administrator, a person who appears to believe in data, institutions, and the radical idea that government might actually do things. To the north, Canada continues its long tradition of electing prime ministers who at least pretend to read briefing books, speak in full sentences, and acknowledge that other countries exist without immediately threatening them with tariffs, walls, or caps-lock tweets.

And then there’s us. The United States. The self-declared “leader of the free world,” whose Oval Office is currently occupied by Dumb Donald—who, to be fair, is doing exactly what he promised. No bait-and-switch here. No surprise third act. No “who could have seen this coming?” twist. He told everyone who he was, loudly, repeatedly, and with merch.

By the standards set by our neighbors, the contrast is almost performance art. Mexico elects competence. Canada opts for stability with a side of manners. America says, “You know what we need right now? Vibes. Chaos. A guy who thinks governing is the same thing as winning a reality show challenge.” And then acts shocked when the prize turns out to be national whiplash.

It’s not that Dumb Donald failed to rise to the occasion. It’s that he mistook the occasion for a mirror. Every policy announcement feels less like governance and more like a loyalty test for gravity itself. Laws? Optional. Norms? Decorative. Expertise? Deep-state witchcraft. And yet, every time something breaks, we’re told this is actually strength, the way a toddler knocking over furniture is “asserting independence.”

Compared to Mexico’s technocratic seriousness and Canada’s polite, sweater-wearing pragmatism, the United States looks like the neighbor who insists fireworks are a form of diplomacy. We didn’t elect the best person—we elected the loudest promise that consequences were for other people. And now, shockingly, he’s keeping that promise too.

So yes, by the standard of who Mexico elected, who Canada trusts to run its government, and who currently sits behind the Resolute Desk, we absolutely have “the best people.” Best at disruption. Best at self-congratulation. Best at proving that when someone tells you exactly who they are and exactly what they plan to do—believe them.