So Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un are to meet in the all-time World Series Super Bowl Champions League final. What have the two deadly opponents got in common, and what on Earth is going to qualify as neutral ground? Our man in the commentary box Johnny Slog offers yet another of his insouciantly percipient predictions.
They have more in common than you’d imagine: Donald likes locker room dirty-talk, while Jong was a star basketball player at his Swiss private school. That particular commonality extends to the fact that Trump is keen on pussy-grabbing, while Kim is into bondage porn and has his own personal pleasure-troupe of pretty girls. (On the other hand, that means Kim likes being tied down on a bed, but you’d be hard-pushed to tie Trump down on any policy now he’s in the White House).
In turn, they both inherited power based on money, and gained ultimate power on silly criteria – the North Korean leader won succession because Daddy thought his brother too effeminate, whereas the Potus got elected on the promise of building big walls and draining swamps.
They are both very obviously puppets of the unelected Alt State. They both enjoy lifestyles almost entirely removed from those of their compatriots. And last but not least, they both have improbable hairstyles.
But the divergence is rather more marked beyond those starters for ten. Kim speaks three more languages than Trump, and is young enough to be his son. In that context (perhaps) he is also eight inches smaller than his American counterpart. Furthermore, while Donald runs mass-market hotels, Jung is the sole user of a chain of personal bordellos.
Now, most dating sites would happily put these two together – because most dating sites would match an elephant to a scorpion if that was what it took to earn a fee – but it’s not really the burning question of the hour at this hour on the hour.
Oooooohn no: It seems that the MSM is largely fascinated by where they’re going to meet. And I don’t mean whether it’s the Manoir de Quatres Saisons or Dunkin Doughnuts…we’re talking continents, not eateries.
The idea is that the two faux Führers need to meet somewhere genuinely neutral.
Now neutrality in English normally means Switzerland or Sweden – but in this case, that won’t work: Kim is very pro Swiss schooling, but Trump is very anti-Swedish immigration policy. Equally, Russia is out because allegedy Putin now controls all American elections, but Russia has joined U.N. sanctions against the government of North Korean supreme leader. Sorting that one out would require all the diplomats involved to be fired into space on a circular journey of at least 300 light years.
Taking all things into consideration in search of consensual sex, neutered consummation, women’s rights, human rights, left rights, turn right at the next left and things not being left as a right cock-up, it seems to me that the only solution is to hold the
bout love-in fest in the Eden Patera region of Mars. This has the triple benefits of being owned by no Earthling at all, having no breathable atmosphere, and giving the participants an equally slim chance of return.