You are cruising East from Brussels, where you have your shiny new headquarters costing billions of taxpayer money, towards Beijing, humming along, taking one country after the other. What could go wrong? The most powerful alliance in history, at least in your own perception, and that of those who vetted you. There is a huge chunk of land with plenty of natural resources between you and Beijing, which you and yours call the ‘Gas-Station’ for obvious reasons.
The individual elected to rule over the people in that ‘Gas-Station’, pretending to be a country, is wary of your expedition, and intentions. He is a pesky little lawyer who impressed the peasants in that huge stretch of land that they actually own all the wealth in their country, and not the bankers in ‘Wallstreet’ and the ‘City-of-London’, or their figureheads in continental European countries and Israel, who sank the country in the early nineties, and bought the ‘rights’ dirt-cheap, exploiting the mineral wealth for their own benefit. Though that guy has tried and tried to get on your good side, and even asked if his country could join the company which dispatched you, it is obvious that he has to go. What on earth is he thinking? Why would the company even bother with those peasants in that part of the world which fail to understand who is boss?
After your latest move, adding more countries, this pretentious little prick shows up in Munich, where you and yours meet to discuss how to proceed towards Beijing, and he issues a warning. Imagine! He demands negotiations to avoid future misunderstandings, which could lead to an armed conflict. What is there to negotiate? Your company is omnipotent now, and to illustrate this the company announces further moves East, even ‘inviting’ a country which is dead set against selling out. But you have your ways, and six years later you remove the democratically elected leader in a ‘sophisticated’ regime change operation, empowering a bunch of neonazi’s and ultra-nationalists with a blind hatred towards the neighboring ‘Gas-Station’, and the gloves come off.
To your surprise, the ‘Gas-Station’ has a couple of smart-moves prepared, and you are left with a black-eye. Annoyed you sign some kind of an Accord without even reading what it says, but you need some extra time to pump-up the volume. Rearm and retrain your neonazi’s and ultra-nationalists, and find the right moment for a rematch. That naive lawyer seems to think he has a deal to avoid war, but you have different plans. You have a brilliant plan to ‘Overextend and Unbalance’ that ‘Gas-Station’, using your freshly acquired ‘proxy’, which will expose that ‘Gas-Station’ to economic sanctions, and stealing all its money parked on bankaccounts in Europe, the UK and the US, which is sure to break it apart in no time at all. Weeks. Maybe a couple of months, tops.
But to your horror, once the hostilities commence, your puppet in the ‘proxy-country’ seems to be considering a deal to avoid death and destruction, actually effectuating that Accord you previously took for granted, and turning that ‘proxy’ into a neutral entity blocking your progress East towards Beijing. Through a hastily and shoddy false flag operation you manage to save the day, and convince your puppet to stay in the race, after you’ve promised him support for ‘as long as it takes’. But after three years of senseless killing, and lots of destruction, you are out of everything to support that war. And the ‘Gas-Station’ is not merely still standing, but it is actually posting economic growth, while slowly, but steadily advancing towards bringing about a military solution, since you ruled out a negotiated settlement. You stopped humming some time ago.
In the past, whenever anyone questioned your authority, you produced a vicious grin, pointing towards the street muscle behind you, residing on the other side of the Atlantic, always ready to go to war with everybody, which you kept on a short leash. But after three years that ‘dog’ turned on you, and all of a sudden you feel very vulnerable. Breaking a sweat and in panic-mode you do whatever you can to calm the ‘dog’ and make him bark at that pesky little lawyer again, and not at you, while you shout at partners that they need to come up with a new plan. The geniuses among you suggest barking like a dog yourself, while finding a fat bone to give to the street muscle which turned on you, to get your ‘dog’ back.
Somehow that pesky little lawyer, and that Buddha residing in Beijing, outsmarted you and yours, since they could smell you from miles away. And putting all your eggs in one basket, while announcing your intention to rip their hearths out and trample on their corpses, feasting with money they managed to make for their people by providing you with affordable energy and cheap gadgets, wasn’t such a smart move. No time left to say you made a mistake and make amends, so get the Hell out of Dodge. And take your ‘dog’ with you!