As was confirmed several hours ago, US President Donald Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong-un have pledged to work toward complete denuclearisation of the Korean peninsula while Washington committed to provide security guarantees for its old enemy.



It’s done. Good work, I suppose, but seriously… Are we really going to keep patting him on the back for these basic historical treaties that he is arranging with previously terrifying trigger-happy warlords? Like, the Kim Jong-un thing happened three hours ago. It’s been reported on. He’s done one good thing. Get over it.

I think he’s getting enough praise from those morons that voted for him right about now.

Sure, he’s basically stopped an entire subcontinent, that borders the world’s most important economic power, from being turned into a glass bowl – but his silence on gender neutral toys and dunnies is deafening.

In a world terrified of Nuclear war, it’s things like this that are overshadowed by the fears and agendas of pre-internet mouth-breathers in the United Nations, and the deplorables that voted for them.

Gender-neutral policy was one of the key differences between the Clinton and Trump campaign.

Trump never spoke about it. Not once, while Hillary, on the hand, spoke about it three times. Twice when she was visiting LA, and then once more in a rally in New York.

Trump may have had a moment today. He may have just negotiated a deal the denuclearise two nations that have been warring since my old AF grandpa was a kid, but he’s still got a long way to go before I can finally say #MyPresident.

About the writer: Jamie Hottake is a comfortable upper middle class Australian content writer who freelances between several online newspapers who are held afloat entirely by clicks that come from outrage-fuelled topics and listicles about Gaytime-themed novelty ice cream products.

He is not American so him saying #NotMyPresident doesn’t really much to anyone.

As a straight white male that’s never worn high-vis and has never been in a fist-fight, Jamie yearns for a sense of victimhood – but mostly has to settle as an ally for minorities, taking it upon himself to horribly articulate their concerns from his perspective. However, on a rare occasion, Jamie finds himself feeling like an outsider, and is very quick to pen 400 words about his uniqueness and vulnerabilities. He lives in a sharehouse with several musicians in Brisbane’s West End and lives in fear of people finding the photos of him attending a friends fancy dress-themed 18th birthday party in 2005, where he was dressed in blackface.


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