Regime Change

First of all, that’s just not something you say out loud.

That’s the kind of thing traditionally whispered in smoke-filled rooms, behind thick curtains, or under the cone of silence. It gets kicked around in backchannels and plotted out in three-letter agencies—not announced at press briefings or screamed into the void on some unhinged social media platform. It’s the kind of conversation that ends with everyone swearing it never happened.

You don’t say—publicly, into a microphone—that you think it might be a good idea if a foreign leader were taken out. You don’t casually float the suggestion that maybe a world leader should be dead. And you especially don’t brag about how another head of state came to you, asked for the green light to kill someone, and you said no—but now, on second thought, maybe that wasn’t the right call.

And you have the unmitigated gall to say it like it’s no big deal—like you just ordered DoorDash and now regret not double-dashing for a pint of Cherry Garcia.

And how irresponsible is that? Another head of state shares with you a classified plan of action, and you tattle on him publicly to save face, because you didn’t know everything that was going on? Can you seriously expect that country—or any allied country—to ever share sensitive intelligence with you again? You’ve made yourself the last person in the room anyone will trust with a whisper.

You’ve basically become the Groucho Marx of détente—anyone who trusts you, by definition, probably shouldn’t be trusted.

And just when you think it can’t get more reckless, you open up your Dollar Store knockoff Twitter for right-wing lunatics—Truth Social—and post about it like it’s some bold new idea. Not just thinking out loud, but broadcasting the thought: “Maybe we should’ve killed him.”

That’s not strength.
That’s not strategy.
That’s not savvy, and it’s certainly not what passes for sane international leadership.

That’s unhinged impulse, inflated ego, and childish banter wrapped in idiocy. It’s the foreign policy equivalent of Ginni Thomas drunk-dialing Anita Hill at 3 a.m.—except this time, the fallout isn’t just awkward, it could be catastrophic.

At this point, if the 86-year-old Ayatollah Khamenei dies in his sleep of natural causes, or if he falls down a flight of palace stairs, or chokes on a pistachio at a state dinner, the world’s not mourning—it’s checking fingerprints.

And how fucking arrogant is that, anyway? Sovereign countries choose leaders they believe will serve their interests, based on their values, their politics, and their history.

Who the hell are we to say, “Nah, you got it wrong. We’re going to go ahead and ‘disappear’ your current leader and leave you with Marco Rubio as a consolation prize”?

Are you serious?

That’s not global strategy—that’s a toddler with a globe and a Sharpie.

Oh, and by the way—for all of you right-wing, fundamentalist Christian Trump supporters foaming at the mouth about this—let’s not forget: we’re talking about a right-wing fundamentalist religious leader.

This isn’t some secular Marxist strongman. This is your ideological twin on foreign soil. So, which part exactly offends you—the religion or the regime?

This isn’t a Netflix thriller. It’s not 24. It’s not House of Cards.

This is real life, with real stakes.

There are diplomats working overtime to keep things from spiraling. There are soldiers who’ll have to clean up the mess if you tip the first domino. There are allies who now have to pretend they didn’t hear what you just said—or worse, pretend it doesn’t matter.

There’s a reason grown-ups don’t say these things out loud. Even if they think them. Because once it’s out there, it’s out there. Once you float regime change, assassination, or whatever label you slap on it, every adversary gets nervous, every ally gets quiet, and the whole world starts recalibrating because of your recklessness.

It’s not policy.
It’s not leadership.
It’s not even bravado.

It’s just dangerous.

And in the hands of someone who thinks diplomacy is “making a deal,” it’s a loaded weapon with the safety off.

...I'm just saying.