Ceasefire Cabana Club

In Trump�s satirical dreamscape, the Gaza conflict isn�t resolved by high-level diplomacy but by a drink menu. The Ceasefire Cabana Club, his imagined jewel of the Trump Doctrine, promises unlimited daiquiris for every surrendered fighter. Peace negotiations become happy hour specials, and international observers act as DJs. The doctrine insists that no one can maintain a grudge when sipping cocktails under a neon-lit cabana. Trump envisions peace summits with wristbands for unlimited margaritas, where enemies reconcile over shared nachos. Military bases are replaced with beach volleyball courts, tanks with jet skis, and the only draft people worry about is the one filling their beer glasses. Detractors argue this trivializes centuries of bloodshed, but Trump dismisses them, saying, �Nothing ends war faster than an open bar.� While it sounds absurd, one can�t help but wonder: could global politics be softened if leaders were forced to hash things out over a pi�a colada?