Waking up early most mornings, I tend to confront the initial reports on the U.S.-Iran war at their ripest and repetitive best. The United States is winning; no, wait, Iran has the edge; Israel is getting pounded and the plan for a greater Israel is shot-to-hell; Iran’s out of ordnance and America is out of ordnance, but each attacked the other overnight.
Then the news focuses in on the Straits of Hormuz. The straits are fully open; no, the U.S blockade is in place and an unnamed USN ship fired and halted a tanker trying to sneak through the straits, Tuesday morning, (30 June 2026), FOX news reported that tankers are getting through the straits by the hundreds.
What is going on in this war is anyone’s guess, but right now there is no reason to think that: (a) the U.S. is winning, (b) that Iran is on its last legs, (c) that Israel is a reliable or even capable American ally, (d) that Turkey and Egypt are not ready to help Iran wipe Israel off the face of the earth; or (e) that Israel is not busy warming up its nuclear weapons for bit of delightful Muslim-murdering-fun in Iran.
The whole business puts me in mind of the Marx Brothers’ performances in their movie Duck Soup. You’ll recall that somehow the brothers secure control of a country called “Fredonia” and then proceed – while Groucho (playing Rufus T. Firefly) and Margaret Dumont a conduct love affair of sorts — to get their newly stolen country into a war with neighboring Sylvania. Well the shooting, dancing, insulting, pantomiming, and popcorn selling runs wild until the film’s end arrives. The audience is delighted, even dazzled, with the fun, music, costumes, zaniness, and the operatic voice of Ms. Dumont, but are left in sort of a daze trying to understand what the whole thing was about.
Well on the last point, it seems to me that Duck Soup was dry run for the U.S.-Iran War. Both nations should be pissed off, and neither America nor Israel, if it survives, gets any royalties. As things are playing out, it seems that we have no one available – certainly not in Hollywood – that could play the Brothers’ parts, much less a female performer who could hold a candle to Ms. Dumont. Trump as Groucho? Nope, he talks as much as Groucho and is a good insulter and hustler, but he is neither funny nor commonsensical; Hegseth is hard to think seriously about for any reason, but at least his playing Harpo would ensure his silence; that leaves the role played by the always formidable Chico, the greatest, sweetest, and smartest conman ever, must go to the commander of the IRGC, who has put two absurdly overconfident and arrogant nations squarely into what might be described as a boiling but spoiled bucket of duck-soup made by the firm of Trump, Netanyahu, and Cruz, Experts at Ruination and Masters of Failing to use History as a Guide. Ltd.
But no, wait a minute, Trump and Netanyahu may be a good fit for playing the bit part of the movie’s popcorn salesman. This fellow has his own popcorn wagon and pushes it around the streets selling his buttery product. He ends up dealing with brilliant Chico, who outsmarts him nicely and even finds a way to burn up the pop-corner’s hat in his own machine. Trump and Netanyahu might well paly – if we silently add another player to the popcorn scenes so there is a two-man team running the business– with Trump being, the tough-talking popcorn-seller, while Netanyahu would play the man who keeps the burners hot for popping in the style of a fool – that ought to come naturally — bent on trying to deceive and ruin Trump, who is the only the factor in the equation, as in the the Iran War, that keeps him employed and alive.
