If you thought Brussels had backbone, brother, let me sell you some bridges in Monaco. I haven’t seen this much capitulation since 1987—and I was working every phone on the floor when Black Monday turned blue. Europe, it seems, has finally rolled over and asked Uncle Sam to tickle its digital underbelly. The whole European tech policy brigade now looks like a pack of interns fighting for a single Nespresso pod: nervous, shuffling, and hoping not to be noticed by the actual rainmakers in Silicon Valley blazers. Look at these clowns with their AI Act, Digital Markets doodads, and Networks nonsense. They cooked up a regulatory soufflé with the bravado of a Parisian chef, only to watch it collapse flatter than Italian bonds whenever an American CEO sneezes. Mark Zuckerberg whispers GDPR three times and the EU starts negotiating against itself. Game recognize game, but this? This is a masterclass in regulatory self-destruction. Let’s talk artificial intelligence, shall we? Europe tried to lay down the law—"No AI shall pass, unless blessed by Merkel’s ghost herself!"—but the Americans just sent over a few lobbyists in suits sharper than Scorsese’s editing scissors. Now Brussels is giving tech companies another year to shape up, like a nervous substitute teacher pushing out the midterm week after week thinking Bobby Bezos will finally do his homework. And telecommunications? The only thing more jammed than these regulatory talks is the Eurostar at rush hour. Supposedly, they’re going to shut down copper wires by 2030. Germans just laughed, muttered something about "efficiency," and kept hogging the spectrum. BEREC, the regulator, is supposed to gain strength, but that’s like saying your chihuahua now runs security at the Monaco Grand Prix. Meanwhile, the Commission is so far behind that by the time they get around to passing anything, 5G will look as vintage as shoulder pads and cocaine. Let’s not forget the Digital Networks Act—projected, debated, then shipped off to a future where Europe’s telecoms definitely-don’t-pinky-promise to work together. See, every country wants to drive the regulatory Ferrari, but no one trusts Bulgaria to hold the wheel. Ah, Space Act—yes, the pièce de résistance of European fantasy. The Americans took one look at Brussels’ regulations, handed over a thirteen-page "Are you out of your mind?" memo, and threatened to stuff Jean-Claude Juncker in the overhead bin of a United flight. I’ve seen galas with less drama than these so-called "digital negotiations." By the way, apparently now the US is worried Europe will block its space cowboys from mining asteroids, as if Belgium’s ever put a baguette in orbit. Stateside, the tech barons are loving it: every morning’s a Bull Market brunch as they watch the Commission bicker over which e-mail goes out first. Apple, Google, Amazon—they all sent panicked love letters about the European Digital Markets Act, pleading, "Don’t make me share my toys, Brussels!" while simultaneously wiring another million to the lobby corps. It’s asset alpha, regulatory beta, and nobody trading gamma. Even the Wi-Fi industry’s got its signal crossed. The Americans want the best spectrum for VR, cloud gaming, and whatever gives children headaches these days. The Europeans, in a move so on-brand it hurts, split the difference 13-14. You want consensus? Go buy a Swiss chocolate. Look, I get it: Everybody wants a slice of the future. But right now, Europe’s trying to bring a bike to a Wall Street pit fight. The Yanks are running the game, the Europeans are writing up committee memos, and somewhere, a Parisian consultant is weeping softly into his regulation dossier. If you’re tired of watching the same punchline, don’t bet on Brussels—just buy tech stocks and order a double Scotch. Greed is good, and so is American bandwidth.