The Boss says another is: if you must ignore the first rule, at least don’t do it on live television while shouting about how easy it will be.
Three weeks ago, The Donald decided he was going to take a quick, clean bite out of the Persians. He thought he was dealing with another Venezuela — a frail little terrier that would offer its belly as soon as he growled.
He thought toppling Iran would be a quick walk in the park, no lead, no muzzle, straight to the off-leash area of history. The plan — if there was one — was to bark loudly, charge the much smaller, obviously terrified dog and watch it roll over.
On paper, he “won” a lot: Iran’s navy sunk, missile sites in pieces, leadership blown up like a squeaky toy that annoyed the wrong toddler. If this were the park, it’s the equivalent of knocking over the food bowl, peeing around the tree and strutting proudly.
Maximum swagger, minimum homework. Trouble is, Iran is not some nervous little yapper with a heart murmur. Iran is the feral cat backed up against the fence — it will take your nose off.
Because here’s the thing that an old dog understands. If the fight is existential for the other guy — if you’re trying to erase his smell from the whole park — he’s not going to give up after the first smack. He only has to survive and make you hurt enough that you don’t try it again.
Iran, it turns out, doesn’t need to win a beauty contest of battleships. The Persians just need to sit on the Strait of Hormuz like a very stubborn dog on a very important hose, and refuse to move. They’ve got cheap drones and mines and mobile missile launchers that disappear under bridges and into tunnels. They can pick off oil tankers and upend the global economy for as long as they like.
Meanwhile, The Donald is prowling around looking for “an off-ramp”.
The trouble is, plenty of others have a dog in the fight. Israel wants to keep going. Iran has nothing to lose, and a weak animal with nothing to lose is not a less dangerous animal. It is a more dangerous animal.
So we have arrived at the part where The Donald wants to stop, declare that everything went according to plan, and go home. But the strait is still closed. He’s now squealing at other countries — the ones he has insulted and never consulted with — because they refuse to help clean up the mess he created.
That’s the thing with picking a fight with something you can’t truly break: the exit is not yours to choose.
It’s the unhappy dog park. All that barking, all that lunging, a few nasty bites and then everyone goes home more injured, more suspicious and more determined to get a bigger dog next time. Iran’s regime survives, angrier and keener to get a nuclear chew toy so nobody tries this again.
The Donald thought he was the only one who could bark loudly — and now Iran is the one deciding when he gets his dinner. Woof!
