After the Love is Gone

“I leave before being left. I decide.” — Brigitte Bardot

BREAKING: It is being reported that the long-anticipated royal wedding has been called off.

With the star-crossed lovers, Donald “Mr.” Trump and Kim “Dear Leader” Jong-Un only weeks away from sealing their Moon-struck romance with a televised kiss, rumors indicate that their wholly absurd matrimony has been cancelled.

Here’s how the gossip columnists are reporting the titillating details:

It seems that the lovers couldn’t agree on which one of them was supposed to be the bride in this union — an increasingly common problem in this era of gender fluidity. For weeks, Donnie was attracting media attention with his Nobel Peace Prize shtick, imagining, drunk under the influence of his long train of cult followers in the “conservative media” and beyond, that he might secure world peace merely through the magnetic appeal of inviting young Jongie to Mar-a-Lago for their honeymoon.

Meanwhile, a pair of Iagos named Bolton and Pence were out on the gossip shows spreading the word that Donnie was really only courting Jongie in order to subdue him and finally kill him. Jongie, catching wind of these malicious rumors, suddenly abandoned the sweet nothings he had been cooing for the past several weeks, during the first bloom of romance, in favor of promising nuclear holocaust should Donnie fail to disavow the two nasty little rumor mongers. 

Donnie, suddenly realizing that Jongie might really undermine the beautiful event — for which the Singaporean cameras were already being set into position to capture all the best angles of Donnie’s handshake and “serious face” at the key moments — thereby stealing the bridal glory away from him, decided to preempt Jongie’s sympathy-generating gambit by calling the whole thing off himself. 

Meanwhile, matchmaker Moon Jae-in, who had believed in his progressive heart of hearts that he was about to secure his name in the history books as the man who made the impossible marriage happen, was left scrambling to understand what had gone wrong, and to beg cooler heads to prevail.

“But wait!” he cried. “Why can’t we all just get along? You can both be the bride!”

Is it too late? Can this too-good-to-be-true romance be saved at the last moment? Can Moon save his peacemaker legacy in the few years remaining in his presidential term? Will Jongie come around at last and realize, as Donnie warned in his Dear Jongie letter, that this marriage is Jongie’s only path to the wealth and comfort he so desires for his family and friends? Is Donnie just playing hard to get in order to reassert his position as the controlling newsmaker in this fairytale? Is there any way to preserve the fruitcake in case the wedding is rescheduled for a later date? 

Today, the rival gossip columnists are debating the question of who “got played” by whom — Donnie by Jongie, or Jongie by Donnie?

The answer, of course, is “Neither.” We, the people of the formerly civilized world, got played, as usual.

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