The Surrender Summit

Trump cozies up to Putin, bullies Zelenskyy, and builds a deportation army with $50K signing bonuses and Dean Cain in a badge.

Good morning! Donald Trump begins his week the way only Trump can: by preparing to sit across from Volodymyr Zelenskyy and explain, in that garbled Queens patter he mistakes for statecraft, why Ukraine should give up Crimea, abandon NATO, and accept whatever crumbs Vladimir Putin flicks their way. After rolling out the red carpet in Alaska for Putin like he was a visiting monarch instead of a war criminal, Trump is now casting himself as the dealmaker who can end “Europe’s deadliest war in eighty years.” The trick? Blame Zelenskyy for not surrendering fast enough. In Trump’s telling, Ukraine could “end the war almost immediately, if it wants to,” as though capitulation were just another reality show finale twist.

But Zelenskyy isn’t playing along. He remembers what happened the last time Ukraine “gave up land for peace”, it bought them exactly eight years before tanks rolled across the border again. He remembers 1994, when the Budapest Memorandum promised that if Ukraine handed over its nuclear arsenal, the West would guarantee its sovereignty. Spoiler: they didn’t. What Trump is offering now is Budapest 2.0, only with fewer vowels and more Truth Social rants. And the kicker? Trump and Putin have been spit balling “land swaps” like a couple of hedge fund managers trading beachfront property, except the beachfront happens to be Ukrainian homes still full of Ukrainian families.

Kyiv’s view is blunt: there is no peace offer, only an illusory ceasefire designed to freeze Russia’s gains and prep the next invasion. Eighty percent of Ukrainians oppose territorial concessions, and their constitution requires a referendum before a single border is redrawn. Any “deal” Trump pressures Zelenskyy into would be political suicide at home, maybe even spark a new Maidan uprising. Ukrainians know Putin doesn’t want peace, he wants their country erased, and every concession only feeds the appetite.

Europe, smelling disaster, has staged what can only be called an intervention. Seven leaders are boarding planes to Washington, hoping to form a protective scrum around Zelenskyy so Trump doesn’t blindside him into signing away half the Donbas before dessert. Macron, Scholz, Starmer, Meloni, Rutte, von der Leyen, and Finland’s six-foot-two Alexander Stubb, the whole traveling circus, are converging on the White House, less for diplomacy than damage control. European press isn’t even hiding it: this isn’t a summit, it’s a rescue mission. They’re not just shielding Zelenskyy; they’re shielding themselves. Finally, Europe has internalized the obvious: if Ukraine gets steamrolled, they’re next.

And then there’s the optics. Zelenskyy arriving tieless, in olive drab, standing shoulder to shoulder with European leaders who may yet follow his lead in ditching the suits. Call it sartorial trolling. If they do, it would be a symbolic rebuke to Trump’s red-tie cosplay, an unmistakable statement that they’re not auditioning for The Apprentice: Geopolitics Edition. They’re here because Russia’s war is existential, and Trump is treating it like a real estate negotiation.

Meanwhile, the bombs are still falling. Russia hit Kharkiv overnight, killing families in their homes, including two children. While Ukrainians dig through rubble, Trump shrugs from the safety of the Oval Office and says Zelenskyy can end the war “if he wants to.” It’s like telling a mugging victim they can “end it immediately” by handing over the wallet, the watch, and maybe a kidney for good measure.

And if you thought this administration’s authoritarian cosplay ended with Putin’s coronation in Alaska, think again. Back home, Trump’s Department of Homeland Security has launched a recruitment drive for Immigration and Customs Enforcement that makes World War I propaganda look subtle. The ads feature Uncle Sam, Instagram posts with Superman actor Dean Cain, and language inviting recruits to “deport illegals with your absolute boys.” Yes, that’s real. ICE is now the frat house of federal enforcement, offering $50,000 signing bonuses, $60,000 in student loan forgiveness, and no age caps. Got a dad bod and a midlife crisis? Congratulations, you too can join Trump’s deportation army.

The recruitment campaign is pitched like a mash-up between Call of Duty and Miami Vice: “the enforcers,” “the protectors,” and “the closers.” One applicant told the Wall Street Journal he was ready to trade in moving mulch bags at Lowe’s for the chance to chase migrants out of the country with a gun. The pay is better, the perks are unbeatable, and the violence is guaranteed. DHS Secretary Kristi Noem brags that over 110,000 people have applied, though how many of them are qualified is anyone’s guess. Local sheriffs are already grumbling about ICE raiding their officer inboxes with recruitment emails, but when there’s $150 billion in new Trump immigration spending to play with, subtlety is for suckers.

So while Europe braces for Trump’s next foreign policy belly flop and Zelenskyy braces for another Oval Office scolding, the United States government is throwing taxpayer money at building the largest deportation force in history. Abroad, Trump is dismantling NATO one press conference at a time. At home, he’s turning deportation into a six-figure career path complete with celebrity endorsements.

The world may be on fire, but at least Dean Cain is getting a cameo.

Marz and I are going to meander along the beach this morning. We both need a little break and we are so grateful for all the good wishes sent his way.