With President Trump reportedly casting acquisitive glances toward Canada and Greenland, the world has been reminded of a long-lost genre of geopolitics: the real estate brochure. Borders, it turns out, are just zoning suggestions, and sovereignty is merely a lease agreement waiting to be renegotiated by someone with enough confidence and a very large Sharpie.
If Canada and Greenland are on the mood board, it’s only prudent to ask: which other countries might catch the President’s eye? Not out of malice or strategy, of course, but for the pure, innocent joy of branding opportunities, cable-news dominance, and the undeniable thrill of saying, “We’re looking into it. Very strongly.”
Let us tour the possibilities.
Iceland: Greenland, But With Better Marketing
Iceland is an obvious next step. It’s basically Greenland after a successful PR campaign. Volcanoes! Glaciers! A name that’s already confusing! From a Trumpian perspective, Iceland offers geothermal energy (tremendous energy, very hot), a tiny population that could theoretically fit inside Mar-a-Lago’s ballroom, and a capital city that sounds like a rejected IKEA product.
Plus, annexing Iceland would finally resolve the age-old naming problem. Greenland is icy, Iceland is green(ish). A rebrand could fix this. Trump loves rebrands. “Trumpland North” practically markets itself.
Scotland: Golf, Sovereignty, and a Light Wind
Scotland has long been of interest, not as a nation per se, but as an accessory to golf. With multiple Trump-owned courses already dotting the coastline, full annexation would simply streamline operations. No more pesky planning permissions, no more environmental objections—just fairways as far as the misty eye can see.
The weather is terrible, yes, but terrible weather builds character. Also, nothing says “global statesmanship” like resolving centuries of Scottish constitutional debate by declaring, “We’re taking it. People are saying it’s mine anyway.”
Italy: Because Rome Wasn’t Built by Losers
Italy offers history, aesthetics, and an admirable disregard for bureaucratic efficiency. Trump has often praised “the old days,” and few places do old days better than Rome, where every construction project immediately uncovers something from 200 BC and shuts down for six years.
From a branding standpoint, Italy is a goldmine. Trump Colosseum. Trump Vatican (separate but adjacent). Trump Tower Pisa—famously leaning, but still very successful. The cuisine alone could justify intervention. “We’re going to fix pasta,” Trump might say. “It’s too soft. Needs strength.”
Monaco: Very Small, Very Rich, Very Gold-Friendly
Why conquer large countries when you can acquire tiny, wealthy ones? Monaco is essentially a luxury condo complex with a flag. Its population is smaller than most Trump rally crowds, and its GDP appears to be made entirely of yachts.
Monaco aligns perfectly with the Trump worldview: low taxes, high gloss, and a vague sense that normal rules don’t apply. Annexation could be completed over a long lunch, possibly between the main course and dessert.
Australia: Big, Loud, and Full of Things That Want to Kill You
Australia is enormous, English-speaking, and culturally compatible in its love of confident statements and large vehicles. Yes, it’s far away, but distance has never stopped ambition. If anything, it makes it more impressive.
Trump could frame Australia as “the Texas of the Pacific,” a place of rugged individuals, suspicious wildlife, and beaches that photograph beautifully from a helicopter. Also, kangaroos. Nobody knows what to do with kangaroos politically, which creates opportunity.
Japan: Tremendous Technology, Very Respectful
Japan offers high-speed trains, advanced robotics, and a cultural appreciation for hierarchy—always appealing. Trump has frequently praised Japan’s efficiency, which is code for “they do what they’re told, but in a classy way.”
From a deal-making perspective, Japan is irresistible. “They build things fast,” Trump might note. “Very fast. Our trains? Disaster. Their trains? Beautiful.” Annexation would, of course, require careful negotiation, but think of the hats. Think of the hats.
The United Kingdom: A Reunion Tour
Finally, there’s the UK—a country already experiencing a complicated relationship with the concept of leaving things. The “special relationship” could be upgraded to “exclusive.”
Britain brings accents (instantly classier), castles (excellent backdrops), and a political culture already comfortable with theatrical chaos. Also, it would deeply confuse everyone, which is often a policy goal in itself.
Conclusion: It’s Not Imperialism, It’s Branding
Of course, none of this is about conquest in the old-fashioned sense. There are no marching armies here—just memoranda, press conferences, and the phrase “people are saying.” In the Trumpian worldview, the globe is less a collection of nations and more a portfolio of underperforming assets waiting for strong leadership and better signage.
Canada. Greenland. Iceland. Monaco. Who’s to say where it ends? Su Casa es mi Casa seems to be the motto of the day. The important thing is to keep an open mind, a closed fact-check, and a map that’s always ready to be redrawn—preferably in gold.
The grumpy older man 