Putin can steal canned meat from Americans, and President Trump still treats him like a five-star chef instead of the international thug he is. Trump promised to 'Make America Great Again,' but all he’s done for Putin is make Russia’s pantry great—one stolen American company at a time.
When you let the fox guard the henhouse, don’t act surprised when the chickens start disappearing. Russia’s latest stunt—seizing an American-owned company to feed its starving troops—is a wake-up call that even a deaf man should hear. I hope President Trump is reading this: Russia is planning to feed its soldiers using a company stolen from an American citizen, Leonid Smirnov. I hope Trump is truly savoring what his “best friend” Vladimir Putin is doing to an American company. If President Trump refuses to take any punitive action against this clear act of aggression, then he owes the American people an honest explanation about where his heart and loyalty really lie: is it with Americans, or with Russians?
The facts are too loud to ignore. In October, the Kremlin stuck its greasy fingers into Glavprodukt, a major producer of canned meat and vegetables founded and owned by Leonid Smirnov, an American who fled the Soviet Union in the 1970s. Now under the sweaty grip of Kremlin-appointed management, Glavprodukt has one clear mission: produce food not for the hungry civilians of Russia, but for Putin’s military thugs and the National Guard, a militarized force that reports directly to Putin himself. Reuters broke the story wide open, revealing how Moscow’s desperation led them to confiscate the company’s assets in March, after Russian prosecutors accused Smirnov of allegedly moving billions of rubles out of Russia.
And what a coincidence—only after Putin’s cronies took over did the company suddenly switch to military production. Before that, not a single meat can went into the hands of the Russian army. This isn’t business; it’s piracy wearing a cheap suit.
The excuse for this daylight robbery? Russian authorities accused Mr. Smirnov of illegally moving 1.38 billion rubles—roughly $15 million—out of Russia between 2022 and 2024. Smirnov called the charges what they are: a “Russian-style corporate raid.” Anyone with half a brain and a memory of Cold War shenanigans knows this trick. Whether it was Stalin’s property seizures or Brezhnev’s forced nationalizations, the KGB playbook is as familiar as an old, smelly coat—and just as rotten.
Meanwhile, where is Trump? He’s acting like a cat got his tongue. While Senator Marco Rubio, now Secretary of State, mentioned in passing that the seizure might come up in talks with Russia, Trump himself is quieter than a graveyard on Christmas night. The man who can rage tweet about light bulbs and windmills suddenly can’t find 280 characters to defend an American citizen whose $200 million business is being gutted like a fish.
Leonid Smirnov is practically screaming for help, begging Trump to step in and save Glavprodukt. “Save my company, save all other American companies,” he cried out to the media. Yet Trump acts like he didn’t hear a thing. Maybe he’s too busy playing golf at Mar-a-Lago to notice that Putin is picking his friends’ pockets while smiling in his face.
This silence isn’t new. Trump’s record with Putin has always smelled fishier than a Moscow seafood market. At the infamous Helsinki summit in July 2018, Trump stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Putin and said he saw no reason to believe American intelligence reports about Russian election interference. This wasn’t leadership—it was kowtowing so low you’d need a shovel to find it.
There’s a proverb that says, “When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you.” But when the man inside the White House won’t even lift a finger to defend Americans from Russian thievery, you have to wonder if the enemy already set up camp inside the Oval Office.
The good news though is that Putin’s days are numbered. When a dictator has to seize a company just to scrape together enough food to feed his soldiers, it’s a sure sign that his empire is rotting from the inside out. Strong leaders build. Desperate ones steal canned peas and call it patriotism.
History’s junkyard is filled with the broken bones of rulers who could no longer provide for their armies. Louis XVI couldn’t supply bread to the French people; he lost his head. Nicholas II couldn’t feed his soldiers during World War I; he lost his throne and his life. Hitler’s armies starved when the Allies cut off supplies; he shot himself in a bunker. Now Putin is raiding food companies just to keep his tin soldiers from fainting on the battlefield. If that’s not a giant neon sign flashing "The End Is Near," then I don’t know what is.
If Trump thinks ignoring the Glavprodukt theft will make it go away, he’s fooling no one but himself. Every day he stays silent, the American people are left to wonder whether his idea of “America First” secretly means “America Last” whenever Putin comes knocking.
And when it comes to Trump’s refusal to even call a spade a spade, especially when it involves Putin, the picture becomes painfully clear. He can bark at NATO, snarl at Canada, and bite at Mexico, but when it’s Putin twisting an American's arm, Trump acts like a neutered puppy.
As for Putin, let him keep playing king of the canned meat aisle. Every jar he steals is another crack in the Kremlin’s walls. His country’s economy is shriveling like a raisin in the sun, his army is depending on looted lunch meat to keep marching, and his people are watching the circus with growing anger. Sooner or later, even a starving dog bites its master.
When Trump finally leaves the stage, history might just write that he was the first American president who mistook a robber for a "genius" and applauded while an American company was stripped clean to feed the thugs of a dying dictatorship. After all, when you dine with the devil, you better bring a long spoon—or else you’ll end up eating canned lies for dinner.
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