Agree to execute each other's hair stylists In a historic moment last weekend, a US President walked into North Korea and, unlike any other US citizen attempting that feat, was not immediately machine-gunned. Sure, his press secretary was roughed up by North Korean thugs, but she was definitely not executed by anti-aircraft guns.
Critics of the mission pointed out that it served no real purpose, but you can say that about almost anything done by this Administration, and if Trump wanted to say, “Hey, as long as I’m in Asia, l want to drop in on one of my despot bros,” anyone working underneath him who might have said, “Before you do, we might need to prep this out a little,” has already been fired. You feeling me, Rex Tillerson?
Anyone who might have said, "What are you going to do, exchange tips on diet and exercise?" was never hired in the first place.
No, Trump just charged off. North Korea was caught flat-footed by this drop-by diplomacy, and didn’t even have any nuclear concessions or American citizens in comas to give Trump in return for him walking across the DMZ. They couldn’t even rustle up a golf cart for him to ride in, because in North Korea, golf carts are as scarce as food and fat people.
Kim Jong Un just had to do what he does best, kiss Trump’s ass like a little husky Asian Hannity, and he walked away with what he wanted—street cred on the Boulevard of Despicable Tyrants. Next time he wants to grind Putin’s gears, all he has to do is say, “Hey, I don’t have any pee tapes and I never lent him a dime and I still own him.” Or he can tell China, “The reason you got trade war with US is you got stuff to trade—I’m too smart for that.”
Then he’ll just keep on doing what he’s doing, having a couple of nuclear weapons and working on a way to launch them to Los Angeles, treating his citizens to a nice, noteworthy famine every couple of years, killing any CIA assets he happens to run across, even if he’s closely related to them, and being the only guy in North Korea familiar with the taste of nachos.
Meanwhile, Trump didn’t get anything, except a vague promise of further stonewalling at the negotiating table. He certainly didn’t get what he was hoping to find amid the land mines and ground sensors of the DMZ—a fresh, new Nobel Peace Prize. A certain black guy has one of them, and even though he got it just by being elected President of a country that used to keep people of his color as slaves, it looms large in Trump’s mind, where that black guy has been known to camp out.
And if that black guy wanted to, he could slip Trump a note that reads, “I might have got my NPP easy-peasy, but then, I never tried to close my borders to desperate refugees, dog. You can hold hands with all the chubby mass-murderers you want, but those caged kids could count against you in Oslo.”
Then he could attach a picture of himself wearing his. By the pool.
Critics of the mission pointed out that it served no real purpose, but you can say that about almost anything done by this Administration, and if Trump wanted to say, “Hey, as long as I’m in Asia, l want to drop in on one of my despot bros,” anyone working underneath him who might have said, “Before you do, we might need to prep this out a little,” has already been fired. You feeling me, Rex Tillerson?
Anyone who might have said, "What are you going to do, exchange tips on diet and exercise?" was never hired in the first place.
No, Trump just charged off. North Korea was caught flat-footed by this drop-by diplomacy, and didn’t even have any nuclear concessions or American citizens in comas to give Trump in return for him walking across the DMZ. They couldn’t even rustle up a golf cart for him to ride in, because in North Korea, golf carts are as scarce as food and fat people.
Kim Jong Un just had to do what he does best, kiss Trump’s ass like a little husky Asian Hannity, and he walked away with what he wanted—street cred on the Boulevard of Despicable Tyrants. Next time he wants to grind Putin’s gears, all he has to do is say, “Hey, I don’t have any pee tapes and I never lent him a dime and I still own him.” Or he can tell China, “The reason you got trade war with US is you got stuff to trade—I’m too smart for that.”
Then he’ll just keep on doing what he’s doing, having a couple of nuclear weapons and working on a way to launch them to Los Angeles, treating his citizens to a nice, noteworthy famine every couple of years, killing any CIA assets he happens to run across, even if he’s closely related to them, and being the only guy in North Korea familiar with the taste of nachos.
Meanwhile, Trump didn’t get anything, except a vague promise of further stonewalling at the negotiating table. He certainly didn’t get what he was hoping to find amid the land mines and ground sensors of the DMZ—a fresh, new Nobel Peace Prize. A certain black guy has one of them, and even though he got it just by being elected President of a country that used to keep people of his color as slaves, it looms large in Trump’s mind, where that black guy has been known to camp out.
And if that black guy wanted to, he could slip Trump a note that reads, “I might have got my NPP easy-peasy, but then, I never tried to close my borders to desperate refugees, dog. You can hold hands with all the chubby mass-murderers you want, but those caged kids could count against you in Oslo.”
Then he could attach a picture of himself wearing his. By the pool.
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