The Art of Walking Away

“If this was victory, I’d hate to see what failure looks like,” writes Susan B. Glasser in The New Yorker. “‘Unconditional surrender’ this was not,” she writes in her Iran war scorecard Glasser begins by quoting the hyperventilations of victory by Secretary of WAR! Pete Hegseth. “Operation Epic Fury, he exulted, ‘achieved every single objective, on plan, on schedule, exactly as laid out from Day One.’”
Hegseth sounds like he closely studied the tape of Sean Spicer berating Press Room reporters for not highlighting the collossal size of his malignant narcissist boss’ smallish first inaugural crowd. Well done, Padawan.
Glasser is not one for vulgar slang in print, but in her review of Trump’s humiliation in a war he started for reasons the remain unclear, it pops up:
How awful, then, to have to admit what we Americans have seen for a decade now—this is not a new Trump but a very old one. Defeat will not temper his mania. There is no strategic setback so big as to embarrass him. Unchastened by failure, Trump, on Thursday morning, was shit-posting on social media about his plans for the U.S. military’s “next Conquest.”
To Trump, the inability to achieve the goals he himself articulated in a war of his choosing against Iran is just one more screwup. He has, after all, made a lifetime of catastrophic mistakes and still ended up as President—twice. He’ll handle this like all the rest by moving on and getting over it even before the cleanup crews have finished in Tel Aviv and Tehran.
Trump’s capital-V victory is in all the cleanup jobs he’s created. I immediately thought of the little guy who cleans up after Mr. Peabody’s imperial parade. He’d never make Trump’s Mar-a-Lago guest list.









