As tempers reignite with North Korea, we spoke to our resident White House snitch to hand over the nuclear-grade secrets.
This week Ivanka affords The Big Smoke readers the privilege of accessing the actual exchange between her and her dad during a formal Presidential Advisory Session.
“What the hell can I do about that crackpot Kim?” demanded Dad. “Kellyanne thinks he’s as big a menace as Odd Job and I should get James Bond to give him the 007 treatment.”
“Look Dad,” I said earnestly, “I’m about to give you a piece of advice that could not only save the world but your arse as well.”
“Okay,” responded Dad, “as long as you remember my arse is the higher priority.”
“You should appoint Kim Jong-un as your Secretary of State,” I announced triumphantly.
“That’s easily the most arse-threatening piece of advice I’ve ever heard,” shouted Dad, “with the possible exception of the moron who recommended I appoint the Mooch.”
“Just think though,” I persisted, “of the synergy between your policies and Kim’s. There’s a huge wall between him and South Korea, he doesn’t accept any refugees, and he maintains at least two global warming degrees of separation from the Paris Accord.”
“Come to think of it,” said Dad thoughtfully, “the only differences between Kim and the Mooch are the suit, the haircut, and the rocket science. Do you think Kim would fit in with the rest of my team?”
“Well it doesn’t really matter,” I asserted, “because they’re all about to leave or be fired.”
“Do you think Tillerson would mind if I push him out for Kim?” asked Dad.
“Not at all,” I assured him, “it would come as an enormous relief that he’s no longer in danger of suffering brain damage and he’ll be proud that he somehow managed to survive the mental torture longer than Reince, Sean, and Steve.”
“If Kim turns out to be a total toolbox,” reasoned Dad, “what the hell am I going to do with him?”
“You could either put him in charge of Gitmo,” I suggested, “get him a job in rocket development with NASA, or appoint him as the special counsel to investigate Robert Mueller.”
“And what about all those generals,” demanded Dad, “who stand around him all the time clapping and cheering. Won’t he feel lost without them?”
“Good point, Dad,” I opined, “I’ll line up a dozen or so for him either from the Pentagon or Hollywood.”
“And get a few extra for me,” ordered Dad, “I’m worried that Kim and I might not work well together.”
“That’s not worth worrying about,” I reminded him, “because you don’t work well with anyone.”
“Do you think Kim would work effectively with Congress?” asked Dad.
“Good heavens, no,” I said reassuringly, “not even Obama could manage that.”
“And what’s going to happen to North Korea when he’s no longer there?” asked Dad strategically.
“It will definitely go South,” I assured him.
“Surely,” commented Dad, “there will be some problems if I appoint him.”
“Everything will be fine,” I said convincingly, “so long as we don’t allow his finger anywhere near the nuclear button.”