55,000 People Give Trump The Middle Finger In Unison
Sorry, Donald, this is gonna go a lot like Trump Steaks, Trump Water, And, I Assume, Trump Crushed-Adderall?
TRUMP’S GREENLAND FIASCO: A Tale of Frosty Rejection By ALL 5 PARTIES IN ITS PARLIAMENT
Donald Trump, master of the art of the (all day) meal, won’t shut his cake-crack from cackling about another of his galaxy-brained ideas: Buying Greenland. Yes, the same man who once thought injecting bleach to be a cure-all for COVID is now setting his sights on acquiring the world’s largest island. What prompted this? Was it the pristine glaciers, rich natural resources, or just that Greenland sounds like a great name for a golf resort? Honestly, who knows with this fool.
Reports suggest Trump recently reached out to the Inatsisartut, Greenland's parliament, to make his pitch. And by "pitch," I mean a weird mix of vague promises, veiled threats, and swaying to every known version of Ava Maria for 14 hours. Yes, I’m sure Gravel Pit McGee, Kristi Noem, was again there to helping—as long as nobody flew the Bat Signal in Rapid City or Aberdeen that there was a poodle for her to put down.
The problem? Greenland isn’t for sale. Nor is it interested in being annexed by a felon.
In a rare display of political unity, the leaders of Greenland’s five major political parties—folks who don’t exactly agree on everything—banded together to tell Trump, in no uncertain terms, to take a hike. Their official statement, roughly translated, was the geopolitical equivalent of, “We’d rather sled down a hill of Legos than entertain the nonsense of this creepy man w piss-cotton-candy for hair.”
One Greenlandic politician reportedly joked, “Does he think we’re some kind of oversized condo complex? We’re a country, not Mar-a-Lago North.” And they’re not wrong to be skeptical. Let’s face it, Trump’s track record with real estate isn’t exactly flawless—just ask the folks who bought condos in Trump Tower Azerbaijan.
But Trump, undeterred, has continued to flail around aimlessly—you know, like when he and his owner Elon try to dance.
He claimed buying Greenland would be a “win-win,” insisting it’d boost the U.S. economy, secure strategic military advantages, and somehow, inexplicably, solve inflation. He even floated the idea of renaming Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, to something more “American.” Suggestions reportedly included "Trumplandia,” "Ice Vegas," and “Why Doesn’t Ivanka Call Me Anymore?”
The Greenlandic response? A frosty rejection followed by a subtweet-worthy dig: “Greenland is open for collaboration and cooperation, not for sale.” Translation: We’re happy to work with you if it’s in our national interest, numbnuts, but not on whatever the hell it is you’re trying to do. Meanwhile, Danish officials, who oversee Greenland’s foreign affairs, were left shaking their heads in disbelief, muttering something about “typical Trump.” Trust me, we get it, guys.
In the end, Trump’s Greenland gambit isn’t just another footnote in his long list of infant-falling-on-its-face-to-see-what-it-feels-like, special moments—a reminder of the jabroni’s uncanny ability to transform diplomacy into global hysterics. Meanwhile, Greenland gets to enjoy its newfound status as a symbol of resistance against patently absurdity, wannabe dictators and men who’s ties hang down below their d*ks.
And Trump? He’ll probably move on to his next big idea. Anyone wanna bet he’s googling how to buy Gondwanaland?