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Nothing says tough man quite like getting scooped up in your bedtime pajamas looking like you just went downstairs for a glass of warm milk and regret every life choice that led you there.For years this guy strutted around barking speeches, threatening the world, pretending he was untouchable. Turns out the final boss of socialism is allergic to daylight, authority, and elastic waistbands.Look at him. No crown. No podium. No dramatic music. Just jammies, a thousand yard stare, and the sudden realization that Twitter propaganda doesn’t stop handcuffs.This is what happens when your revolution runs out of excuses and meets a boarding party instead of a press conference.Reminder to all would be tyrants out thereRule in fear long enough and one night you’re not getting a midnight snackYou’re getting extradited in pajamasSleep tight, champ. You earned it.