Optical shift by Kim Jong-un

This is interesting at the Conservative Treehouse, political analysis you will not read anywhere else.

It's so obvious that it virtually smacks you, pow, right in the eyeballs. Gone are the Mao-suits. Gone are the rows of creaky-old military generals with medals flapping from their chest to their toes.

Oh man, those medals are hilarious. They remind me of something. They remind me really hard. Wooden front door plaques. With crudely painted art depicting the family. Mommy, Daddy on the main plaque with the family name painted in the middle, then each child a separate smaller wooden plaque hanging by o-hooks. The plaque hung on the front door clattered whenever the door was opened and shut. The more kids, then obviously the greater the clattering sound. I think they were produced by a local artist at that time in that place because I cannot find them online, yet every household on base had them. We ALL had them. Every family had one. Because they were cute. All five of us kids in a row hanging from the main plaque. One of my sisters probably has this plaque now. I can guess which one would be interested in keeping it.

At that time, in those years, the Petersons had the biggest one of all. The biggest door plaque on earth. Because they had ten kids. Whereas the rest of the large families shared a duplex, and they were large places. Very ample spaces in Tokyo where space is a premium. Luxurious, actually. The Petersons had the whole duplex. And they were still cramped. That's the equivalent of a genuine mansion. When their door opened and closed it sounded like the Rose Parade clattering. And they liked it that way. Their dad was the Scout Master and his sons made up half the troop.

Their front door was like the uniforms of Korean generals.

It was ridiculous. 

And it was meant to be that way. Similar to the fish windsocks flown on Boy's Day that allow families to brag about the number of boys in the family. They amount to large flags on bamboo poles. Each boy gets one. 

A fish!

And there is so much pride for a boy to have their own windsock fish flag. They're outrageous but that doesn't matter to boys. "That fish means me!" That's all that you feel. I know that because I felt it. I loved my fish. It meant my parents were happy to have us. So happy they hang out a flag. So much better than a little plaque on a door. 

Anyway, Kim Jong-un is imitating Trump. And that's very clear purely by optics. He's made out to look like a businessman. A western businessman. Sundance's analysis has us understand this marks a new path by China based on a new comprehension that Trump is much more clever than first thought. China must match Trump and so too must Kim Jong-un. It is a theatrical production, and it's done very well. Every single element is precise. There is nothing extra, and there is nothing important left out. Size, lighting, (fake-ass library such as in the Gatsby) luxurious furniture, carpet, propagandistic art. And that suit Kim is wearing. He's matching Trump. 

He's not matching Hillary Clinton. He's not matching Obama. He's not matching Bush II or Bill Clinton or Bush I or Carter. He's not restyling so seriously on his own. No. He's matching Trump, singularly Trump, and he's doing this by instruction from China. This is the Chinese conceptualization of Trump and it's a marvel to behold. Kim is speaking to the world, not just his people. He is saying what China tells him to say.

Mucho más en el Conservative Treehouse.