What If America Fucked Off and Ghosted WWII?

Alright, buckle up, you magnificent bastards, because the historical record (and a very weird dream I had after eating a questionable kebab) tells us this is 100% how it could've gone down. The year is 1941. Pearl Harbor happens, but instead of FDR getting all righteously pissed off, a new, shockingly popular isolationist president—let’s call him Charles "Don’t Bother Me" Lindbergh—gets on the radio and announces the national policy is now officially "You Do You." America, he declares, is taking a hard pass on this whole "World War" thing. We’re ghosting the group chat. Europe, you’re on your own. Good luck with that whole "Nazism" thing. Sorry for your loss, Britain, xoxo. And so, Britain, bless its stubborn, tea-soaked heart, fights to a bloody standstill. They can’t win, but they inflict so many goddamn paper cuts on the German war machine that Hitler, who by this point is fueled by a cocktail of amphetamines and sheer theatricality, gets bored. The invasion of Britain is a bust, the Eastern Front is a frozen hellscape of logistical nightmares, and he just… calls it. The "Peace of Mutual Exhaustion" is signed in 1944. Germany gets to keep pretty much all of continental Europe, minus a very grumpy Britain and an even grumpier Switzerland. The Third Reich doesn't fall; it just becomes a bloated, continent-spanning homeowners association from hell, run by the kind of guys who’d measure your lawn with a ruler. This ushers in the most awkward staring contest in human history: the "Tepid War." Not cold, just… unenthusiastic. On one side, you have the United States of Smug, fat and happy on its own continent, churning out Hollywood movies where the bad guy is always a vaguely European-sounding butler. On the other, the "Greater European Reich," a land of magnificent autobahns, terrible food, and a crushing, state-mandated sense of humorlessness. The espionage wasn’t suave, it was sad. Per the "Leaked Vatican Post-its," CIA agents sent to Berlin were routinely caught trying to pay for bratwurst with baseball cards, while German spies in America were immediately seduced by the twin evils of jazz music and comfortable trousers. Sure, there was a space race, but it was pathetic. The Germans launched the V-3 rocket, the "Vergeltungswaffe-DREI," which successfully put the first man into a low, wobbly, and deeply nauseating orbit for seven minutes before he had to come down to use the toilet. America responded by sending a Ford Thunderbird into space with a jukebox welded to the hood, blasting Bill Haley at the uncaring void. The culture war was even dumber. The Reich banned swing dancing as "degenerate hip-wiggling," so naturally, American planes started airdropping bootleg Elvis records over Paris. There was no Berlin Wall, but a "Politeness Fence" was erected on the French coast to keep the British out, or possibly just to have something to complain about. It was a pissing contest where both sides had stage fright.