As President Xi heads back to China, one imagines him, like any other tourist returning home after a long trip, meeting with old friends who are sure to ask how his trip went — and to have him recount the highlights.
This is what I imagine Xi would say, translated into English, of course:
When we landed, they made me stand in the doorway of the plane for like forever while they unfurled a little red carpet. You know, here in China we can lay down a mile-long red carpet at lightning speed and watch a million soldiers walk on it in perfect formation in under a minute, but the Americans took forever smoothing it out. I think they spent so much time on it because Donald has trouble walking in a straight line on carpets.
Then Donald was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me, and I was like, “What?” It apparently was the first time in decades an American president had greeted a visiting leader planeside. I mean, I didn’t go to the airport to meet Donald when he came to China because, as a dictator, I’m too busy with crushing freedom. I just don’t have time for such trivial matters.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I said to Donald that he didn’t need to come all this way since I’ve been to D.C. before, and I knew the way to the White House.
The weather was pleasant enough, but Donald was bundled in a heavy coat and gloves, like there was a blizzard coming, but I think he was wearing those things to hide the bruises on his hands and the contraption he seems to carry around on his backside.
Within the first five minutes, he started with his incessant attempts to impress me, starting with a flyover of America’s bombers roaring overhead. Again, it looked puny. You know the way we do things in China, we have 200 planesroaring overhead during our National Day Military Parades in Tiananmen Square.
Now, let me show you a picture. As the planes were flying over, look at the expression on Donald’s face. I said to Peng Liyuan that Donald clearly has a very low threshold for pain or discomfort, and she reminded me that he didn’t serve in the military because he had a little bone spur in his foot. So the expression made sense.
While we were there, there was a big controversy going on because Donald banned three news outlets from the White House. And yes, Peng Liyuan and I had a good laugh about that too. I can’t remember the exact number, but I have imprisoned between 50 and 113 media professionals. I don’t just ban them. Donald is such a wimp.
When we pulled into the White House, the media was standing outside the gate like groupies at a TFBOYS concert.
Oh, and the altruistic rest of the media allowed on the premises decided not to send cameras to my White House welcome ceremony in solidarity with the three outlets that were banned. Boy oh boy, you should have seen how angry Donald was that there were no American news cameras there.
Of course, China was well represented. I mean, if they didn’t show up, or decided to support free press, you know very well what would have happened to them once we crossed into Chinese airspace on the way home.
Donald showed me this little helipad he put in the backyard of the White House. He kept bragging about how he liked granite and kept fussing over this silly little circle. I wanted to say that I have got 109 acres of granite at Tiananmen Square to land a plane on if I wanted, so you want me to be impressed with your little granite sandbox?
It was just another example of how this friendship is so one-sided. He has all these things that he boasts about, but does he realize who he’s talking to? Who I am? And all the infinite material possessions I possess as a result of my dictatorship?
For example, he took me for a walk along what’s called the West Wing colonnade, showing me how he put up all of his predecessors’ “portraits,” which are just little 8-by-10s in fake gold frames. I kept biting my tongue, trying not to laugh, because again, does he realize who he’s talking to?
I have an enormous hand-painted oil portrait of Chairman Mao over the Tiananmen Gate that measures 20 feet by 15 feet and weighs 1.5 metric tons.
But then, I just couldn’t hold my mirth anymore when he paused at Joe Biden’s photo and jokingly said, “This is the autopen — it’s Biden.” I broke out laughing, which is something I don’t normally do, and not because what he said was funny. It was because it all seemed so immature and childish. This man is the most powerful person in the world, and this is how he spends his time?
We are going to kick America’s a– once we declare war on them, economic or otherwise, because their leader has the mentality of an incorrigible six-year-old.
Then we had what’s called a State Dinner in the quaint dining room of the White House. It’s about the size of Peng Liyuan’s bathroom. Donald gave us this sculpture of a bird, an eagle, I think, although it looked like a prehistoric bird, and I’m not sure why he gave me something that represents freedom, since that’s the last thing in the world I care about.
Then there’s his silly ballroom. He talked about it all day, and then wanted us to go behind some magic curtain to see what he said was a “nice and clean and sparkling” construction site. What a disappointment.
Again, Donald is not my friend, because if he were, he’d know that our State Banquet Hall alone spans 75,000 square feet and easily seats 5,000 guests for dinner simultaneously, which makes his 22,000-square-foot ballroom look pathetic.
I mean, I could keep going, if you want, but I’d rather talk about my plans to have AI supremacy for China so that we can destroy humanity, or at the very least, do more to destroy China’s freedoms.
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