Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Donnie the Kleptocrat’s Grand Shopping Spree

No one should be shocked—shocked—to discover that Donnie the Kleptocrat has turned the Oval Office into the departure lounge for a never-ending world tour. Some presidents collect stamps or state gifts. Donnie collects countries, resources, and excuses, preferably in bulk and preferably with a Sharpie-signed receipt that reads “Mine.”

This is not foreign policy so much as it is retail therapy with aircraft carriers.

The itinerary is predictable. Venezuela, for instance, was always going to be on the list. A nation sitting atop oceans of oil is basically a flashing neon sign to Donnie, the geopolitical shoplifter, blinking CLEARANCE SALE. The justification, of course, is noble. It’s never about oil. It’s about drugs. Everything is about drugs. Drugs are the diplomatic duct tape that fixes every narrative problem. Oil under the ground? Coincidence. Sanctions, pressure, destabilization? Totally unrelated. This is a moral crusade, you see—one that just happens to smell faintly of gasoline.

And now, Nigeria.

Nigeria is rich in rare earth minerals—the kind of elements that make phones smarter, missiles faster, and billionaires happier. Naturally, Donnie’s interest has absolutely nothing to do with that. Absolutely nothing. Instead, we are told this latest excursion is about saving Christians. Because when history has taught us anything, it’s that nothing protects religious freedom quite like opportunistic intervention timed suspiciously well with supply-chain demand.

It’s a familiar script. First comes the sermon, then comes the spreadsheet. First comes the righteous concern, then the extraction plan. Donnie doesn’t invade countries; he audits them. He doesn’t destabilize regions; he unlocks value. And he doesn’t steal—he simply believes very strongly that if something exists and he wants it, ownership is implied.

The genius of Donnie the Kleptocrat is that he has managed to rebrand greed as patriotism. Wanting oil is framed as “energy independence.” Wanting minerals becomes “national security.” Wanting leverage is called “strength.” And if anyone questions the pattern, they are accused of hating freedom, Christianity, or America itself—sometimes all three before lunch.

Meanwhile, the Oval Office has become less a seat of government and more a pawn shop for global assets. Maps are no longer consulted for diplomacy but for inventory. Advisors whisper not about consequences but about market value. And the world watches as Donnie strides across continents like a man convinced the globe is just a poorly organized garage sale.

The most remarkable part isn’t the brazenness—it’s the predictability. Every stop on the tour comes with a costume: the Drug Warrior, the Savior of Christians, the Defender of Democracy. Different outfits, same pockets, all very deep. The kleptocrat never changes his destination; only his excuse.

So no, no one should be surprised. Not by Venezuela. Not by Nigeria. Not by whatever country comes next with lithium, cobalt, oil, or anything else that glitters beneath the soil. Donnie the Kleptocrat is not exploring the world—he’s browsing it. And as long as the world keeps insisting on having valuable things, he’ll keep insisting they were meant for him all along.