Donald Trump’s letter this past Thursday to North Korean Supreme Leader Kim Jong-Un was an odd mixture of stern, practical, and wistful. Bordering on bromantic at times, Trump wrote, “I felt a wonderful dialogue was building up between you and me . . . Some day, I look very much forward to meeting you.”
Revealed here for the first time are the redacted sections of the original draft, edited by White House communications staff to tone down the sycophantic overtones, avoid making the touchy-feely Trump-Macron April lovefest look tame, and keep Sean Hannity from flying into a jealous rage.
As Humphrey Bogart once said, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. There is a lot we can learn from each other. First of all, you people really know how to give a parade. Those high kicks send chills down my spine, and they remind me of some other military parade from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it. And may I say you look dashing in your uniform.
I understand in your country people have in their homes a radio that plays only one station, which is a constant stream of talking points from the Commander-in-Chief. We have that here in America, too. It’s called Fox News. The problem is, here in this country we have a lot of fake news. They’re even trying to say I colluded with Russia. That’s a lie. A hoax. And to be absolutely honest, I’d much rather collude with you.
Someone told me you never defecate or urinate because your body is in perfect harmony with nature. I try to avoid doing those things, too. If at all possible, I leave all that to prostitutes in my hotel room. But sometimes, you know, when you gotta go, you gotta go. When we hang out one day in my cool man cave here in the West Wing and share a Big Mac, I think you’ll understand exactly what I mean.
I really love the way you don’t just ask your people for loyalty—you demand it. Of course, I demand it, too, and I’ve been criticized for throwing people under the bus. To your credit, you use a real bus. And that whole deal about lining up disloyal generals and cutting them to ribbons with anti-aircraft guns—beautiful. Too bad that sort of thing doesn’t always go over too well here in the U.S., but let me just say, one day when you and I are retired from running the world we’re going to make a hell of a reality show together. And can I just say, you have really great hair.
When I finally get over there to see you, I hope you can give me a personal tour of the DMZ at the 38th parallel. Not just for fun, though I’m sure it will be. But also I want to take some pictures on my cell phone and show some of these losers back home how to build a wall. You really know how to build, don’t you? You just point—hey, you, you, and you—go over there and build me a wall, or build me a prison or a golf course. Unfortunately I have to deal with unions, OSHA, and civil courts, but we’ll see what I can do about that. Ridiculous!
I understand also your name is on just about everything in North Korea. Nice job! I was getting close to that point in my country, but ever since I became President they’re giving me a hard time about that. A disgrace! But one day I look forward to a Trump Hotel in Pyongyang (125 floors!) and a Kim Jong-Un takeout chain in the United States.
I’m sure you and I and President Moon were going to have a killer time together, but I also understand the problems of three people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. But we’ll always have Seoul. Here’s looking at you, Kim.