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In a daringly audacious move that screams “We’re all in this together!”—except for your wallets—the U.S. and its troupe of Western pals decided to send Ukraine a cool $50 billion package, all glittering with the charm of frozen Russian assets. That’s right, folks! Putin‘s piggy bank is being cracked open for a Ukraine bailout, with Uncle Sam generously nudging $20 billion their way. Because, let’s face it, nothing says “support” like financing a war with money you can’t touch.

“Our dear president, Joe Biden, stood before the press like a loan shark who forgot his sunglasses, announcing that Ukraine can have what it needs, all without burdening taxpayers!” he bellowed with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever in a park. “They can receive the assistance now, before asking your wallet to cough up anything! Isn’t that delightful?”

With Christmas creeping up, and winter bearing down like a freight train full of expenses, Biden reassured us that lending $20 billion while promising that “tyrants will be held accountable” was the moral equivalent of lending your TV to a friend you know is going to sell it.

Meanwhile, somewhere in D.C., Deputy National Security Advisor Daleep Singh must have been playing Monopoly because he stated, “We’ll just split the cash: half for economic help and half to buy Ukraine some shiny new military toys.” But, of course, that’s only if Congress grows a backbone and hands over the check for the military bits—because who doesn’t love a good political game of ‘Let’s see if they’ll let us.’

And speaking of checks, if Congress says ‘no,’ the plan is to just turn the whole $20 billion into economic aid. “A win-win,” Singh quipped, probably while polishing his crystal ball for future economic forecasts.

On a cheerful note, our G7 friends—who apparently still remember how to cooperate when sweets are involved—are throwing in another $30 billion, while they ignore the glaring irony of “assistance” during a time when political trust is about as stable as a unicycle on a tightrope.

As our eyes roll in perfect synchronization, it’s comforting to know that if everything goes to hell, there’s a contingency plan: the Russians keep their frozen assets locked away, collecting interest like that boring savings account no one visits, or—drumroll, please—the Russians will pay for their mess. Either way, it’s like they say: one way or another, we all pay, we just prefer to keep it on the down-low.

In ending, let’s give a round of applause to the Western leaders for cleverly figuring out how to use frozen funds while hoping nobody notices the jiggle in their own coffers as we slide gracefully into another political skirmish—two weeks away from a presidential election where the biggest question remains: can we have a reality show star back in the White House? Spoiler: probably!

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