Dwain Northey (Gen X)

I wake up every morning now and check the news the way you check your bank account after letting a toddler hold your credit card—bracing for impact, but also weirdly unsurprised when it’s worse than expected.

Because apparently, in this upside-down masterclass of dealmaking, we’ve reached the part where the “greatest negotiator alive” has successfully negotiated… a situation where there is no deal. None. Zero. The diplomatic equivalent of proudly announcing you just closed on a house that doesn’t exist. 

But don’t worry—it’s going fantastically.

See, the narrative goes something like this: we applied overwhelming pressure, made bold moves, projected strength… and in return, Iran is still dictating terms around the Strait of Hormuz, restricting traffic, flirting with tolls, and generally acting like the bouncer of 20% of the world’s oil supply. 

Which, if you squint hard enough and maybe hit your head on the table first, is apparently what winning looks like now.

And I love the confidence. I really do. There’s something almost tender about the way we’re told negotiations were “going very well” right up until the moment they collapsed completely.  It’s like hearing someone insist their parachute deployment is proceeding beautifully as they continue falling at terminal velocity.

But wait—it gets better.

Because when the deal you didn’t make falls apart, the logical next step is obviously to escalate things… by announcing a blockade of the very waterway you just couldn’t negotiate open. 

That’s right. If you can’t make a deal, just declare louder that you made one spiritually.

It’s a fascinating strategy. Kind of like setting your own house on fire and then declaring victory over the smoke.

Meanwhile, Iran—allegedly on the ropes, begging for a deal depending on which version of reality we’re workshopping today—somehow still holds leverage over the strait, still has demands on the table, and still hasn’t signed anything resembling surrender. 

But sure. Totally crushed them.

And my favorite part—my absolute favorite—is the way this all gets packaged. Because if you point out the obvious contradiction, that we attacked, destabilized the situation, failed to secure an agreement, and now face a more complicated geopolitical mess… well, that’s just fake news.

Fake. News.

Reality itself has apparently been downgraded to an unreliable source.

So here I am, watching this grand “Art of the Deal” sequel unfold, where the art seems to involve loudly insisting you’ve won while the other side still controls the board, the pieces, and occasionally the table itself.

And I can’t help but feel a weird mix of sarcasm and something softer—because we’ve seen this before, haven’t we? That moment when someone refuses to admit things aren’t working, so they just double down, smile bigger, and tell you everything is perfect.

Even as the chair tilts back a little further.

Even as gravity patiently waits.

And we’re all just sitting here, holding our breath, watching the balance wobble—being told, with absolute certainty, that this is exactly how it’s supposed to feel when you’re winning.