It’s Sunday, June 22, 2025. While half the country is at church pretending they didn’t black out at Applebee’s karaoke last night, I’m sitting here sipping my third Diet Dr. Pepper of the morning and trying to emotionally process the fact that the Strait of Hormuz will be closed and we’re apparently doing Iran War, the Iraq Redeux. I don’t even like driving across town, let alone tiptoeing into a global conflict that could crash the economy and jack gas prices higher than my blood pressure.
But here we are.
In case your news feed is still arguing about whether or not pants belong on cartoon frogs, let me break it down: Iran’s parliament voted to shut the Strait of Hormuz—the narrow shipping artery responsible for funneling 20% of the world’s oil like a high-stakes game of marine Jenga. This move, of course, comes in direct response to Donald Trump deciding, “You know what this election cycle needs? A tactical airstrike.” So he bombed three Iranian nuclear sites with all the grace and foresight of a possum on meth.
The results were predictable. Iran didn’t thank us for the fireworks show. They didn’t issue a strongly worded op-ed. They said, “Cool. Blocked,” and effectively told the entire global oil market to go play in traffic. Now oil futures are spiraling, gas prices are expected to spike like a Disney Channel star’s post-puberty fame, and the phrase “fill ‘er up” is starting to sound more like a mortgage application than a pit stop.
Meanwhile, Trump is back at the microphone, orange as ever and declaring the mission “a complete success.” Sir, this isn’t a round of golf. This isn’t even The Apprentice. This is you kicking the hornet’s nest, getting stung, and then declaring victory while your face swells shut. And his cabinet? Don’t worry—they’re totally prepared. After all, nothing instills confidence like Pete Hegseth (a former FOX host turned Secretary of Defense) holding strategy meetings in between takes of Fox & Friends Weekend.
Marco Rubio, now Secretary of State and still America’s most animated thumb, is on every Sunday show insisting this is “a masterstroke of deterrence.” Sure, Marco. Just like leaving your stove on is a masterstroke of home heating. Lindsey Graham is somewhere in the corner humming The Star-Spangled Banner while Googling “can a country sue for oil?”
And then there’s Homeland Security, headed up by Kristi Noem, who couldn’t even secure her own political career without stabbing a puppy in the press. She’s now in charge of keeping American cities safe as every major metro braces for retaliation. Because nothing says “safe” like arming ourselves with taxidermy, slogans, and vibes.
Let’s not forget the sheer absurdity of how we got here. We are being led into a potential global war by a man whose top qualifications are “once hosted a game show” and “somehow avoided jail five times.” This is a man who probably thinks the Strait of Hormuz is a new flavor of vape juice. And the American people—at least the loudest among them—are cheering it on like it’s the halftime show of a monster truck rally.
And of course, I’m watching all of this from my living room, nursing a now lukewarm Diet Dr. Pepper, wondering how many miles I can get if I siphon gas from my lawnmower to my car. Spoiler alert: not enough. By next week, we may all be back on horseback, riding side saddle into an economic meltdown while Trump hosts a rally at the Exxon station with Kid Rock and the ghost of Ronald Reagan.
Let’s talk consequences. Oil prices don’t just mean pricier gas. They mean rising costs for food, transportation, manufacturing—everything. And we’re not just talking domestic strain. Europe is already panicking, China is pretending to mediate while quietly stockpiling oil like it’s toilet paper in 2020, and Russia is watching with popcorn and vodka.
And while Iran’s final approval for the closure still rests with their National Security Council, you can bet your bottom dollar—or what’s left of it—that this isn’t just a bluff. They’re pissed. And when a theocracy gets pissed, they don’t tweet—they mobilize.
What’s even more baffling is the sheer gall of Trump’s administration pretending they didn’t know this would happen. These are people who have less foreign policy knowledge than your average Jeopardy! contestant. They think diplomacy is just shouting louder than the other person while pointing to a map of countries they can’t pronounce.
And here we are—back at the brink. We’ve done this dance before. The boots, the flags, the chest-puffing. But this time, we’re not walking into war with generals and statesmen. We’re doing it with a President who gets his intel from Newsmax and a cabinet built like a LinkedIn fever dream. The Secretary of Energy thinks fossil fuels are the apex of human innovation. The Secretary of Education used to run the WWE. The Secretary of Treasury made his billions by betting against global stability—and now he’s got a front-row seat to the chaos he helped engineer.
Meanwhile, the average American is just trying to figure out if they can afford eggs and get to work in the same week.
So no, I don’t feel calm. I don’t feel reassured. And I certainly don’t feel like this is the “very stable genius” leadership we were promised. What I feel is a lot like indigestion—but that might just be the fifth Diet Dr. Pepper kicking in.
Here’s the bottom line: we’re careening toward crisis with a driver who thinks turning off the GPS is a flex. And as oil prices skyrocket, global markets panic, and America stares down the barrel of another forever war, just remember this all started because one man can’t resist the urge to make everything about him—even international conflict.
So buckle up. Or don’t. With gas prices where they’re headed, nobody’s going anywhere fast.