Trump's Iran War Vs. The Desert of the Real
Lloyd examines how Trump's recent bombing of Iranian nuclear facilities fits into a 70-year pattern of American intervention. From Operation Ajax in 1953 to the destruction of the Iran Nuclear Deal, Lloyd reveals how every "defensive" American action creates the Iranian "threat" that justifies the next escalation. Plus: a direct challenge to Trump, insights from the Tao Te Ching on staying present during empire's collapse, and a call to hit the streets to stop this war before it becomes World War III.
episode guide
intro: 00:05
The Department of Defense is Hiring: 02:01
Welcome to the Desert of the Real 03:35
Operation Self-Fulfilling Prophecy 08:40
Open Letter To Donald Trump 17:00
The Tao of War and Peace: 21:20
Transcript
Welcome to The Tao of Lloyd, friends, fellow travelers, and sacred troublemakers.
I'm Lloyd Dobler. Yep, that Gen X icon now has a podcast spinning dharma-like mixtapes in a microwave of manifest destiny. If you need the whole back story, check out the first two episodes because today, we're diving deep into the Matrix of perpetual war, and you'll need some context for this red pill.
But first, this week's episode is sponsored by the Department of Defense.
I know I know I know, I famously said that I never want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. And I still don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed – but the truth is, I have bills, just like you, and if you are going to hold me accountable to everything I said as a teenager in love, then I have some questions about some life plans you made after you filled a shot glass with Amaretto, and then topped it with 151-proof rum, lit the thing on fire, dropped it in a beer and chugged it, before making some pretty bold promises. Remember, I was your designated driver back in high school.
Can we both just agree that we’ve gotten a little older and had to make a few compromises along the way? So listen to the ad, that’s how these podcasts work, right? Am I right or am I right?
And yeah, before you ask - my parents were career military. Which explains a lot about why I can't work for that corporation, why I ended up here talking about empire, and why I know exactly what I'm looking at when I see the Pentagon Pastor of Preemptive Strikes loading up his crusader tattoos for another holy war.
So let's begin.
Welcome to the Desert of the Real
[Audio clip: Donald Trump] Trump: "The U.S. military carried out massive precision strikes on the three key nuclear assemblies in the Iranian regime: Fordo, Natanz and Isfahan, everybody's heard those names for years"
Lloyd (VO): Really, have you heard those names for years? Because you sound like that rich kid who stumbled into geography class hungover, and the teacher made you read the Iran chapter out loud and you lost your speak and spell.
[Audio clip: Donald Trump] Trump: "The strikes were a spectacular military success. Iran's key nuclear enrichment facilities have been completely and totally obliterated. Iran the bully of the middle east must now make peace. If they do not, future attacks will be far greater and a lot easier."
Lloyd (VO): Dropping bombs while calling for peace is like lighting a match in a gas station bathroom while spraying Febreze and calling it meditation.
[Audio clip: The Matrix - Morpheus] Morpheus: "Welcome to the desert of the real. We have only bits and pieces of information..."
Lloyd (VO): Thanks Morpheus. But what we know for certain is that this is your brain on empire.
Last week, Operation Rising Lion looked like an Israeli solo act—Netanyahu's greatest hits album of precision strikes and nuclear scientist hunting. But Saturday night? Trump dropped Operation Midnight Hammer, fired up the B-2 bombers, and turned this into a full-blown imperial duet.
Can you imagine being a copy writer for the Defense Department? Midnight Hammer?
You see, the Matrix doesn't just control what you see. It controls what you think you're choosing.
The blue pill narrative went like this: "Trump tried diplomacy. Gave Iran 60 days to negotiate. Israel had no choice but to strike preemptively. America's not involved—we're just helping defend our ally."
But here's your red pill reality check: The war was planned eight months ago. Trump's "negotiations" were the diplomatic equivalent of a professional wrestling storyline—pure theater to make the predetermined outcome look spontaneous. Secretary of State Marco Rubio spent a week insisting America took "no part" in Israel's strikes. Then Saturday night, Trump ordered bunker-busters dropped on the one facility Israel couldn't reach.
Now we've got 40,000 American troops scattered across the region like human bait, waiting to see if Iran's going to take the revenge buffet or the all-you-can-bomb special.
But here's what's really got me—and we'll get into this deeper later—how do you hold spiritual center when empire is literally eating itself alive on live television? How do you breathe in compassion when your tax dollars are funding the incineration of other people's children? How do you practice sacred refusal when the machine keeps upgrading its capacity for violence?
We're gonna wrestle with that. But first, let me tell you a story about how we got here.
Operation Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
In 1953, the CIA, with the help of British MI6 launch Operation Ajax and successfully overthrow Iran's democratically elected Prime Minister for the crime of nationalizing Iranian oil. The U.S. framed it as a Cold War–era necessity to prevent Soviet influence, though the deeper motive was protecting oil profits.
This is where it all starts, friends. Not with Islamic revolution. With American intervention. And that intervention yields resentment that brews for decades— and this is the same view that we need to think of with Operation MC Midnight Hammer— and that resentment builds directly fueling resentment that led to the 1979 Islamic Revolution.
The Iranian people kick out our brutal dictator. In response, they take 52 Americans hostage for 444 days. Bad move? Absolutely. But let's not pretend this was unprovoked aggression—this was blowback from 26 years of supporting a regime that disappeared, tortured, and murdered its own citizens.
In 1979 I was, like 9 or 10 years old and I remember— not proud, but I remember singing "Bomb, Bomb, Bomb, Bomb Iran," to the tune of the Beach Boys song "Barbara Ann" on the school bus. Also on the school bus, another 9-year-old kid, an Iranian American kid. She cried. Every day. We did this for weeks. How does a 9-year-old learn to be so cruel? Who taught us that song? It was just in the air, for us to pick up. And what are the 9-year-olds today thinking? How bad will Islamophobia get now that we have launched a war with Iran?
Fast forward to 1987. During the Iran-Iraq War, the U.S. Navy began escorting Kuwaiti oil tankers flying the American flag—an indirect favor to Iraq. The Navy clashed with Iranian forces, attacked boats and oil rigs, and in 1988 and "accidentally" shot down an Iranian civilian airliner, killing 290 people. Oops! Our bad! Here's a medal for the ship captain.
The U.S. Navy claimed the airliner was mistaken for an attacking F-14 Tomcat. However, the plane was on a well-known commercial route, in Iranian airspace, and ascending, not descending, and in the fog of war, to quote the unfortunate bumper sticker from your beat-up Chevy Nova back in 1988, "Shit happens."
Maybe that is what Pete Hegseth's Department of Defense should call World War 3: Operation Shit Happens.
Fast forward to 2015–2018: The Deal That Worked Until It Didn't.
The Iran Nuclear Deal—wasn't just working, it was working working. Iran had inspectors up in its uranium business like Mr. Roper peeking through a cracked door at Jack Tripper's love life—uninvited, persistent, and always assuming the worst. And guess what? They were complying. No bombs. No sneak attacks. Just paperwork, oversight, and awkward diplomacy—exactly the kind of boring, grown-up stuff that prevents wars.
But then Trump came along in 2018 and pulled the U.S. out of the deal like a toddler flipping a Monopoly board. Why? Maybe because it had Obama's name on it. As Rebecca Solnit put it, scrapping Obama's legacy was basically Trump's love language.
So yeah. We had a functioning brake system—and Trump cut the lines to make sure the car would fly off the cliff in time for the midterms
Which brings us to the "The Nuclear Catch-22."
Here's the sick logic: As lawyer Max Kennerly noted, "When Trump withdrew from the Iran Nuclear Deal in May 2018, he made it the policy of the United States that every country should have an active nuclear weapons program. Today he made it clear they need to develop functional nuclear weapons as soon as possible. Nothing else can prevent a U.S. attack." In this rhetorical framing, it follows that we created the very threat we're now bombing them for.
Trump gives Iran 60 days to surrender their nuclear program. When they don't, he calls it failed diplomacy and starts dropping the most powerful non-nuclear bombs in our arsenal on their mountain hideouts.
But here's the thing Rebecca Solnit nailed in her Substack — "Unlike previous wars, "no case for today's attack has been made." No propaganda build-up. No congressional approval. No explanation of what our goals are. As one Washington insider told Solnit, "I am a relatively informed person who works in the national security space... I do not know what our goals are vis a vis Iran, nor how we expect to achieve them."
You see the pattern? Every American "defensive" action creates the Iranian "threat" that justifies the next American action. It's a geopolitical Ponzi scheme.
And throw a constitutional crisis into the mix: Only Congress can declare war. As Congressman Sean Casten put it, "No president has the authority to bomb another country that does not pose an imminent threat to the US without the approval of Congress. This is an unambiguous impeachable offense."
But here's the thing about empire—it's not just Republicans or Democrats. It's a machine that runs on bipartisan fuel. Obama's sanctions. Trump's assassinations. Biden's threats. Now Trump 2.0's bombing campaign. Different drivers, same destination: total spectrum dominance.
The machine doesn't care who's driving. It just needs to keep moving.
And right now? You handed the keys to the machine a guy who thinks foreign policy is a wrestling promo and war crimes are just "strong leadership."
Which brings us to this week's open letter.
An Open Letter to Donald Trump:
Dear Donald,
It's me, Lloyd. Yeah, the guy from the movie you probably tried to buy the rights to in the '90s but got outbid by a hedge fund vampire with better hair plugs.
I need to tell you something. And I'm going to use small words, so your attention span doesn't wander off to Truth Social, or whatever gold-plated toilet you're tweeting from today.
You just started World War III.
Not a "limited engagement." Not a "surgical strike." You kicked off a regional firestorm that's going to make Iraq look like a Fourth of July barbecue gone slightly wrong.
And let's be honest about why. Because your poll numbers are in freefall. You whined online that even Fox News is being mean to you. You're so desperate for relevance, you'd light the world on fire just to watch your name flicker in the glow.
One week, nobody comes to your birthday party. The next week, you're dropping bunker-busters on Iran.
You've gone rogue: Only Congress can declare war—but you skipped all that. No hearings. No votes. Not even a pretext. You bombed a sovereign nation that posed no imminent threat to the U.S.
As Congressman Sean Casten put it: "This is an unambiguous impeachable offense."
You're flying blind, Donald. Bombing first, thinking never.
You talk tough, but we see you. The guy who hides behind bone spurs. The guy who dodged the draft. The guy who called American soldiers "losers" and "suckers."
You think history won't remember that?
Wait until the first flag-draped coffin comes home from this war you just started. Wait until that mother in Ohio or that widow in El Paso hears what you said—that dying for your country makes you a sucker.
You'll have to explain that to a folded flag and a six-year-old who doesn't understand why daddy's never coming home.
You didn't just betray the Constitution. You betrayed the very people you sent into harm's way.
And for what? So Raytheon can pop champagne on the earnings call? So Netanyahu can cling to power? So you can pretend your manhood isn't made of spray tan and NDAs?
Here's the truth you'll never face: Real strength would've been restraint. Real courage would've been owning our past, lifting the sanctions, and meeting humanity with humanity.
But that would've required you to be something you've never been: a man. Instead, you're a scared little boy with billion-dollar toys, blowing holes in the world to feel something.
You didn't make America great again. You made empire terminal.
You lit the match and called it peace.
And when the blowback comes—because it will come—when the body bags start arriving and the headlines start hedging—when cable news says "tragic but necessary," and the generals mumble about "collateral damage"—don't be fooled. They'll try to wrap this in strategy, in patriotism, in solemn-faced ceremony.
But none of them will say what really happened: That a fragile narcissist started a war to feed his ego, and the system—media, military, and political alike—played along like it always does, pretending this was destiny instead of a choice.
They'll salute the casket. They'll fold the flag. And then they'll go back to fundraising and weapons contracts like nothing happened.
But we won't forget. And neither will the ghosts.
Sleep tight,
Lloyd
The Tao of War and Peace
While it felt good to get that off my chest—and I hope you share that open letter—let me share something that's been keeping me sane through all this madness.
Chapter 1 of the Tao Te Ching, in Stephen Mitchell's translation:
The Tao that can be told
is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.
The unnamable is the eternally real.
Naming is the origin
of all particular things.
Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations.
Yet mystery and manifestations
arise from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness within darkness.
The gateway to all understanding.
So I posted about Iran on social media this morning, and someone responded: "My morning focus has been whether to go get some really fun donuts or not. I'm most likely going."
And you know what? For a second, I wanted to rage-type back about how people are dying while you're contemplating glazed versus chocolate sprinkles. But then I stopped. Because maybe that person was practicing something I'm still learning.
Here's the spiritual wrestling I can't escape: the Tao teaches presence. Being fully here, fully now. Honoring what's actually in front of you. And what's in front of that person is a donut decision. What's in front of me is B-2 bombers dropping bunker-busters on Iranian nuclear facilities.
Both are real. Both are happening now. Both arise from the same source.
But here's where it gets complicated: Empire thrives on our fragmented attention. It needs you doomscrolling the drone strikes between videos of raccoons playing xylophones. It needs us choosing sprinkles while it chooses targets.
The "war on terror" that can be branded isn't security—it's marketing.
The "spreading democracy" that can be tweeted isn't freedom—it's PR in fatigues.
The "Iranian threat" that can be propagandized isn't the eternal reality.
These are just names. Labels designed to make the unthinkable feel inevitable.
Free from the desire for security through violence, we realize the mystery: We are all manifestations of the same source. Iranian mothers and American mothers. The person choosing donuts and the person choosing to write about war.
We arise from the same darkness. We return to the same light.
So maybe the path forward isn't choosing between donuts and democracy, between presence and politics. Maybe it's holding both.
Time to Hit the Streets
[Audio clip: The Matrix - Neo] Neo: "I know kung fu."
Lloyd (VO): Me too, Neo. Except mine looks more like holding a protest sign in the rain and skipping brunch to divest from Lockheed Martin.
You know kung fu too, listener. Now it's time to use it.
It's time to get loud. Time to get organized. Time to flood the streets like it's 2003 and we're trying to stop the Iraq War—except this time, we know what we're talking about.
Find the anti-war protests in your city. If there aren't any, start one. This weekend.
Bring everyone. This isn't about left versus right. This is about war versus peace. Invite your MAGA uncle who's tired of foreign wars. Invite your liberal friend who thinks bombs are bad regardless of who drops them. Invite your libertarian coworker who wants our troops to come home.
Get ready for pushback. Trump has already militarized ICE raids in American cities. You think he won't try the same tactics against anti-war protesters? Bring water. Bring medics. Bring legal observers. Bring each other.
Hit them where it hurts. Boycott war profiteers. Divest your retirement funds from defense contractors. Demand your city council, your state legislature, your university, your union pension fund—demand they stop investing in companies that profit from human misery.
This is going to be hard. Empire doesn't give up easy. The machine has antibodies—propaganda, police, patriots who think dissent equals treason.
But when enough people say "not in my name," the machine breaks down. When enough people say "bring our troops home," the politicians start sweating. When enough people say "stop bombing people in my name," the whole theater of justification starts to crumble.
The spoon is bending. And this time, it's not a trick.
We're the glitch in their system. We bend the spoon. We break the cycle.
Take the red pill, friends. See the Matrix for what it is. Then help us tear it down—one protest, one boycott, one act of resistance at a time.
From the edge of empire and the center of self—where the real revolution lives—this is The Tao of Lloyd.