Bon appétit, Mike Johnson!

 

October 11, 2024. Punchbowl news.

Speaker of the US House of Representatives Mike Johnson recently declared, “I don’t have an appetite for further Ukraine funding, and I hope it’s not necessary. If President Trump wins, I believe that he actually can bring that conflict to a close. I really do. I think he’ll call [Russian President Vladimir] Putin and tell him that this is enough. And I think everybody around the world is worried about this, and they want it to be resolved. So whatever the terms are, I’m not sure, but I think if Kamala Harris is president, I don’t think it ends, and that’s a desperate and dangerous scenario.”

Ah, Mike, our gourmet of political discourse! Leaving aside the cognitive dissonance wrapped in his remarks, one must ponder whether this is truly the eloquence expected from a Speaker of the US House of Representatives or the musings of a retired housewife blissfully unaware of world affairs. Perhaps Mike’s casual, almost farcical style is meant to charm his base—assuming they enjoy a side of ignorance with their political banquet. If only he could whip up an appetite for knowledge to accompany his statement. 

Let’s feast upon a few gems from this buffet of confessions:

First, Mike has no appetite. How poetic, yet profoundly disturbing! In Kyiv, as two Russian MIG-31s soar ominously towards our skies, preparing to unleash their deadly Kinzhal missiles, the thought that our military aid hangs on Mike’s whims is a recipe for indigestion. The knowledge that the fate of Ukraine rests in the hands of a man whose palate is untested by the weight of global responsibility is enough to leave anyone queasy.

Next, the gem of a prediction: “If President Trump wins, I think he’ll call Putin and tell him that this is enough.” Ah, the delightful nostalgia of Trump’s past encounters with Putin dances in our minds. From these hallowed halls of diplomacy, we remember Trump’s previous meetings where he emerged looking like a man who had just been handed a participation trophy in a game he didn’t even know he was playing. Surely, Putin will tire of his brutal conquest and declare, “I’m done! I’ve achieved… well, not much, but let’s wrap this up.” How comforting it must be for Mike to rely on such fanciful scenarios while we count the costs of this ongoing war.

And then, this charming phrase: “So whatever the terms are, I’m not sure.” How reassuring! One can almost envision a future where unappetizing Mike, alongside Trump, negotiates away Ukraine’s sovereignty over a cup of lukewarm coffee and half-hearted sentiments. Perhaps they will share a laugh as they flip through the pages of a peace treaty, oblivious to the lives hanging in the balance.

As we consume this gibberish, one must wonder how such individuals—whose grasp on reality appears as thin as a paper napkin—ascend to the lofty heights of political Olympus. Once inhabited by giants, the pedestal is now occupied by dwarfs, cheerfully devoid of appetite and insight.

In this dark comedy of political life, we can only raise a glass to our fight. 

Glory to Ukraine!