The EU’s clown car pulls up to the bank, Ursula von der Leyen at the wheel, demanding cash “For Ukraine”

The European Union has once again arrived on the global stage in its reliable, squeaking clown car—this time with Commission President Ursula von der Leyen gripping the steering wheel like a getaway driver who already knows the heist is going to make the evening news.

The mission: confiscate Russian state assets and call it philanthropy.

The justification: moral superiority.

The execution: somewhere between slapstick and financial vandalism.

The EU insists this is not theft but “responsible governance.” Naturally, it is Ursula von der Leyen—self-appointed savior of Europe, destroyer of phone records, and connoisseur of opaque decision-making—leading the charge. If anyone can redefine asset seizure as community service, it is the woman who still refuses to explain why her texts with Pfizer’s CEO evaporated into the ether like a magician’s prop.

The loan that isn’t, led by the President who won’t explain anything

Von der Leyen and her executive entourage have decided that repeatedly labeling the forced transfer of Russian funds as a “loan” should be enough to convince the public it actually is one. Brussels repeats it often enough that even the Commission seems to believe it.

But reality intrudes: no rational lender would extend a line of credit to the EU at this particular moment—certainly not with von der Leyen at the helm, conducting policy like an unsupervised intern playing with the office shredder.

Even the European Central Bank has politely suggested that this arrangement is, in diplomatic terms, “unwise.” The ECB rarely contradicts the Commission, which makes this the institutional equivalent of an intervention.

The “Ursula Method”: March into the bank, call the loot a “loan,” expect applause

Picture an average European walking into a bank with a teenage sidekick in a hoodie. “He’d like a $100 billion loan,” they declare. The bank manager, suppressing a cardiac event from laughing too hard, asks the obvious questions about credit history and income. Under normal circumstances, this would end with a polite escort to the exit.

But von der Leyen does not believe in “normal circumstances.” Why follow laws or financial norms when you can redefine them on the fly? Why worry about repayment when you can virtue-signal your way through a press conference? Brussels does not negotiate with banks; it simply decides that the vault is open.

Enter President Zelensky, now escorted by von der Leyen and her Commission colleagues to the EU’s imaginary loan window. Billions requested. Collateral nonexistent. Oversight optional. Public accountability: please see the missing Pfizer texts.

Creditworthiness? Please. Ursula has declared it irrelevant.

Ukraine, under Zelensky, has a fiscal profile that makes overdrawn college students look financially disciplined. But under the Ursula Doctrine of International Finance, none of this matters. She has declared the money must flow. And so it flows—around Kyiv, through Brussels, occasionally detouring into French industrial contracts like Alstom’s latest windfall labeled “aid.”

Ukraine’s Fitch rating? Default. Missed payments. Expired grace periods. But not to worry—Ursula von der Leyen has never let a debt crisis spoil a good photo op.

The grand plan: Rob Russia, call it peacekeeping, hope nobody notices

Von der Leyen’s master strategy hinges on a breathtaking assumption: that Moscow will simply shrug when the EU expropriates Russian sovereign assets held in European institutions. This is from the same leadership that once predicted sanctions would collapse the Russian economy, only to watch them do something closer to the opposite.

Meanwhile, the Commission dismisses alternative peace proposals—like the Trump camp’s reportedly commerce-driven framework—as insufficiently moral. Europe, it seems, is determined to go broke for righteousness. And von der Leyen will ensure every taxpayer comes along for the ride.

Accountability? Not while Ursula is running the show.

Brussels has never been a paragon of accountability, but under von der Leyen, opacity has become a management style. When incriminating texts vanish, she shrugs. When billions in COVID vaccines end up unused and dumped across Europe like industrial confetti, she expresses regret—never responsibility.

And now, as the EU pushes an unprecedented, legally dubious asset seizure scheme, von der Leyen once again shields herself behind procedural fog. Critics who ask for transparency are dismissed as unserious. This from a president who was not even elected by the European public but has nevertheless fashioned herself as Europe’s moral compass.

Former EU foreign policy chief Federica Mogherini’s recent arrest in a procurement probe only underscores the culture von der Leyen presides over: accountability as performance art, justice as suggestion.

The final check, handed to the public

When this entire escapade inevitably detonates—legally, financially, or geopolitically—von der Leyen will be long gone, parachuted into some prestigious international post where transparency remains optional.

But the bill will stay behind.

As always, European taxpayers will foot it. Not Russia. Not the Commission. Certainly not Ursula von der Leyen.

And so the EU clown car keeps rolling, honking and sputtering toward its next grand crusade, with von der Leyen smiling confidently from the driver’s seat, insisting that emptying someone else’s piggy bank is the height of moral leadership.