Dwain Northey (Gen X)

So let’s ask the question slowly, carefully, using small words, flashcards, and maybe a felt board—because apparently that’s where we are now:

How does Dumb Donald abduct the sitting president of Venezuela, drag him into the United States, plop him in front of a U.S. judge, and charge him with American drug crimes for acts that did not occur on U.S. soil… and somehow Congress just shrugs like this is a Tuesday?

Short answer: it doesn’t work. Long answer: it really doesn’t work—but we’ve replaced law with vibes, and Dear Leader vibes hard.

In the before-times, back when we pretended words like “sovereignty,” “jurisdiction,” and “international law” meant something, there were rules. Boring rules. Annoying rules. Rules that prevented presidents from playing Grand Theft Auto: Hemisphere Edition. You couldn’t just grab a foreign head of state and say, “Mine now,” like a toddler in a sandbox with nuclear codes.

But Dumb Donald has never been burdened by the weight of “how does this actually function?” His operating system has always been: If I want it, it must be legal. If it isn’t legal, scream ‘DRUGS!’ and Sharpie the rest.

And oh, what a magic word “drugs” has become. Drugs are the universal skeleton key. Drugs unlock war powers. Drugs unlock extrajudicial abductions. Drugs apparently unlock teleportation, because suddenly Venezuelan soil is U.S. soil if you squint hard enough and shout “cartel” three times into a mirror.

Let’s be clear: the alleged crimes did not happen in the United States. The accused was not arrested while committing a crime on U.S. soil. There was no extradition process honored, no international tribunal, no cooperation with legitimate global institutions. Just a raid, a snatch, and a press conference.

That’s not law enforcement. That’s piracy with better branding.

In any sane constitutional universe, this would trigger alarms. Big ones. Congressional hearings. Emergency sessions. Senators solemnly intoning phrases like “dangerous precedent” and “constitutional crisis.” Instead, Congress has adopted the role of a houseplant: decorative, quiet, and aggressively photosynthesizing nothing.

Because here’s the problem they’re avoiding: if the U.S. can kidnap their president and try him in our courts for their crimes, then congratulations—we have officially declared that borders are optional and power is the only jurisdiction that matters.

That’s not democracy. That’s empire cosplay.

And before anyone reaches for the tired defense—“Well, he’s a bad guy!”—congratulations, you’ve just vaporized the entire concept of law. Courts are not vibes-based morality contests. The law does not operate on “trust me, bro.” If it did, we wouldn’t need constitutions, judges, or Congress. We’d just elect a very loud man with a Sharpie and let him point at maps.

Which, notably, is exactly what we did.

So how does this work, legally? It doesn’t. The argument boils down to: We’re big. We’re angry. And we said so. That’s it. That’s the memo. That’s the doctrine. Manifest Destiny, now with cable news chyrons.

And Congress? Congress is letting him get away with it because stopping him would require courage, spine, and the terrifying act of telling their own voters that no, the president is not a king. That accountability still exists. That shouting “national security” doesn’t turn a kidnapping into a court case.

It’s easier to clap. Easier to tweet flags. Easier to pretend this is strength instead of the legal equivalent of flipping the Monopoly board and declaring yourself banker for life.

The truly impressive part is the precedent. Because if this is okay—if this is legal now—then every authoritarian with a grudge just got a how-to guide. Kidnap first. Prosecute later. Invent jurisdiction as needed. Call it justice.

And one day, when another country decides an American official committed crimes their way, on their terms, and drags them before a foreign court, we’ll suddenly rediscover the sacredness of sovereignty and scream about international norms.

Funny how that works.

This isn’t law. It’s theater. Expensive, dangerous theater performed by a man who thinks the Constitution is a suggestion and Congress is set dressing. And the scariest part isn’t that Dumb Donald did this.

It’s that so many people looked at a presidential abduction, shrugged, and said, “Yeah, that tracks.”

That’s not just nonsense.

That’s how republics end—one illegal act at a time, rubber-stamped by silence.