This is satire, which means it is probably not funny, but I wanted to play on being in the room where it happened—or should we say nothing new happened?
Bob Seger once crooned, “There are some things I wish I didn’t know now that I didn’t know then.” This might top the list.
The ceasefire, as it turns out, was a reheated version of a two-decade-old U.N. deal that Hezbollah violated back then and will undoubtedly violate again. Nothing new. It’s the diplomatic equivalent of slapping duct tape on a leaking dam and calling it engineering.
And now the game’s afoot.
The negotiations had already descended into farce.
Biden, shuffling his cue cards like a man trying to find a lost lottery ticket, proclaimed, “We’ll arm everyone with nukes! Then we’re all equals. Peace through parity!”
Netanyahu massaged his temples, muttering something about retirement. Across the table, the Hezbollah negotiator tried to focus, but his phone buzzed with constant instructions from Tehran.
“Praise Allah,” the faint voice on the other end said, “but Biden is wrong. Again.”
The doors suddenly swung open as the negotiators descended into another loop of circular reasoning. The lights flickered.
The air grew electric.
He had arrived.
The TARRIFINATOR.
The TARRIFINATOR.
Donald Trump strode into the room, his red tie flapping like a battle standard. He boomed in a metallic and oddly comforting voice, “I AM BACKKKKK.”
The room fell silent.
Somewhere, an eagle cried, and a Hezbollah aide fainted.
Netanyahu smirked. “This should be good.”
Trump pointed dramatically. “Enough of this weak nonsense. No deals. No appeasement. Just tariffs. Tariffs on everything.
You’ve got rockets? Tariffed.
You’ve got falafel? Tariffed.
Do you have ideas I don’t like? Double tariffed.”
Wide-eyed Hezbollah negotiator whispered into his phone, “Tehran, he’s serious! He’s going to tariff air!”
Tehran’s voice crackled back, “Stay calm. Tariffs do not scare Allah. But… be cautious.”
Biden, visibly confused, jumped in. “Look, folks, tariffs are just—uh—you know, taxes for tough guys. But if we arm everyone with nukes, there won’t be any tariffs.
See? Equal playing field.
Everyone’s in the same nuclear club!”
Tehran groaned through the speaker. “Praise Allah. He is making it worse.”
Trump ignored him. “Listen, Biden. Tariffs work because I say they work. Fear works. Nobody’s tariffed fear before. I’m a genius. People are terrified of my tariffs. That’s how you negotiate.”
He turned to Netanyahu. “Bibi, you’re my guy. But if you don’t stop smirking, Israel’s hummus exports? Tariffed.”
Netanyahu raised an eyebrow. “So your solution to terrorism is… tariffs? That does sound ‘tarrifying’ Donald.”
“Exactly,” Trump replied. “Tariffs on terrorism. Tariffs on bad behavior. Tariffs on Hezbollah’s entire vibe. If you don’t stop launching rockets, I’ll tariff your dreams. And believe me, it’ll work.”
The Hezbollah negotiator panicked. “Tehran, he’s threatening tariffs on… us! Help!”
Tehran’s voice sighed. “This is a catastrophe. But we are still waiting on instructions from Allah.”
Biden clapped, misunderstanding entirely. “This is how you build coalitions, folks! Tariffs, nukes, whatever it takes to get the job done. Historic leadership!”
Netanyahu leaned back, arms crossed. “There will be no peace until the ideology of death ends. Tariffs or no tariffs.”
Trump grinned. “Don’t worry, Bibi. I’ve got this. The world is spinning again because I’m here.”
Biden, nodding along, muttered, “Spinning’s good. Keeps everyone dizzy. Makes deals easier.”
The room fell silent again, not from unity but from collective confusion.
Word Count: 495
Estimated Reading Time: ~2.5