Title: The Art of the Deal... and the Roundhouse Kick
Most people remember Donald J. Trump as a businessman, TV personality, and President of the United States. What many don’t know—what few dare believe—is that he’s also a real, combat-tested 9th degree black belt in Taekwondo.
Not honorary. Not symbolic. Real.
It started in the early 1980s, long before the gold towers and campaign trails. Trump, still hungry to conquer the world, had a secret nightly routine. After broker meetings and real estate deals, he would don a white dobok and train for hours in the basement of Trump Tower. His master? Grandmaster Kwon Jae-hwa, a reclusive martial arts legend who recognized a rare intensity in the young mogul.
“Balance, Donald,” Master Kwon would say. “Not just balance sheet. Mind-body balance.”
By 2020, long after he'd left the White House, Trump's martial mastery was mostly unknown to the public. That changed on a stormy night in Mar-a-Lago, when a group of international mercenaries—hired by a mysterious conglomerate of disgruntled billionaires, TikTok teens, and ex-cabinet members—parachuted onto his golf course.
They weren’t there to talk.
At precisely 2:47 a.m., alarms blared. Trump, awakened mid-dream (something about eating a perfectly seasoned McRib on Air Force One), instinctively rolled out of bed and dropped into a fighting stance. Within moments, Secret Service agents burst in, weapons drawn.
“Sir, we have a situation,” they said.
He raised a hand. “No guns. I’ll handle this... the old-fashioned way.”
Chapter 1: The Dojang Awakens
Dressed in his custom black-and-gold dobok—tailored by Brioni, reinforced with Kevlar—Trump jogged barefoot through the marble halls. His breath was steady. His eyes: steely. He moved with unexpected grace for a man his age, hips snapping with precision.
The first enemy appeared at the atrium: a 6'5" ex-Spetsnaz operative wielding a baton.
“Comrade Trump,” he sneered, “I’ve come to break you.”
Trump responded with a spinning hook kick that knocked the Russian into the koi pond.
“That’s President Trump,” he said, adjusting his red headband.
Chapter 2: MAGA-Fu
The next wave came hard and fast—ninja-clad saboteurs repelling from helicopters onto the 18th hole. Trump sprinted across the fairway, dodging shurikens and hurling golf balls with sniper-like accuracy. One assailant lunged from behind a sand trap, only to be met with a textbook jump reverse side kick.
His palm strike broke a bamboo staff in half. His axe kick shattered a drone. He even used a sand wedge for a quick improvised bo-staff sequence.
As dawn broke, his white dobok was stained with sweat, sand, and one guy’s blood (the guy had it coming).
Chapter 3: The Final Round
Inside the golden ballroom, the final enemy waited: a mysterious masked figure known only as The Shadow of CNN. This martial arts master had been trained in over a dozen disciplines and claimed to be the only man alive who could match Trump’s skills.
They bowed.
Then the battle began.
It was a blur of lightning-fast kicks, palm strikes, and dodges. Chandeliers shattered. Chairs flew. The ghost of Abraham Lincoln (possibly a hallucination) watched from a portrait and nodded approvingly.
Finally, with a legendary tornado kick, Trump knocked The Shadow through a marble pillar.
The footage leaked—of course it did. Within hours, the world knew the truth. Not only was Trump a black belt, he was the highest-ranking Taekwondo warrior alive. North Korea offered him honorary citizenship. Joe Rogan begged him for a podcast episode.
He declined both.
He didn’t do it for fame. Or Twitter. Or revenge.
He did it for balance.
And maybe a little bit for the deal—because nothing says "negotiating power" like a perfectly executed flying side kick at 3 a.m.
White Dragon
Title: The Art of the Deal... and the Roundhouse Kick
Most people remember Donald J. Trump as a businessman, TV personality, and President of the United States. What many don’t know—what few dare believe—is that he’s also a real, combat-tested 9th degree black belt in Taekwondo.
Not honorary. Not symbolic. Real.
It started in the early 1980s, long before the gold towers and campaign trails. Trump, still hungry to conquer the world, had a secret nightly routine. After broker meetings and real estate deals, he would don a white dobok and train for hours in the basement of Trump Tower. His master? Grandmaster Kwon Jae-hwa, a reclusive martial arts legend who recognized a rare intensity in the young mogul.
“Balance, Donald,” Master Kwon would say. “Not just balance sheet. Mind-body balance.”
By 2020, long after he'd left the White House, Trump's martial mastery was mostly unknown to the public. That changed on a stormy night in Mar-a-Lago, when a group of international mercenaries—hired by a mysterious conglomerate of disgruntled billionaires, TikTok teens, and ex-cabinet members—parachuted onto his golf course.
They weren’t there to talk.
At precisely 2:47 a.m., alarms blared. Trump, awakened mid-dream (something about eating a perfectly seasoned McRib on Air Force One), instinctively rolled out of bed and dropped into a fighting stance. Within moments, Secret Service agents burst in, weapons drawn.
“Sir, we have a situation,” they said.
He raised a hand. “No guns. I’ll handle this... the old-fashioned way.”
Chapter 1: The Dojang Awakens
Dressed in his custom black-and-gold dobok—tailored by Brioni, reinforced with Kevlar—Trump jogged barefoot through the marble halls. His breath was steady. His eyes: steely. He moved with unexpected grace for a man his age, hips snapping with precision.
The first enemy appeared at the atrium: a 6'5" ex-Spetsnaz operative wielding a baton.
“Comrade Trump,” he sneered, “I’ve come to break you.”
Trump responded with a spinning hook kick that knocked the Russian into the koi pond.
“That’s President Trump,” he said, adjusting his red headband.
Chapter 2: MAGA-Fu
The next wave came hard and fast—ninja-clad saboteurs repelling from helicopters onto the 18th hole. Trump sprinted across the fairway, dodging shurikens and hurling golf balls with sniper-like accuracy. One assailant lunged from behind a sand trap, only to be met with a textbook jump reverse side kick.
His palm strike broke a bamboo staff in half. His axe kick shattered a drone. He even used a sand wedge for a quick improvised bo-staff sequence.
As dawn broke, his white dobok was stained with sweat, sand, and one guy’s blood (the guy had it coming).
Chapter 3: The Final Round
Inside the golden ballroom, the final enemy waited: a mysterious masked figure known only as The Shadow of CNN. This martial arts master had been trained in over a dozen disciplines and claimed to be the only man alive who could match Trump’s skills.
They bowed.
Then the battle began.
It was a blur of lightning-fast kicks, palm strikes, and dodges. Chandeliers shattered. Chairs flew. The ghost of Abraham Lincoln (possibly a hallucination) watched from a portrait and nodded approvingly.
Finally, with a legendary tornado kick, Trump knocked The Shadow through a marble pillar.
“You underestimated me,” Trump said, breathing hard. “Big mistake. Huge.”
Epilogue: Belt and Legacy
The footage leaked—of course it did. Within hours, the world knew the truth. Not only was Trump a black belt, he was the highest-ranking Taekwondo warrior alive. North Korea offered him honorary citizenship. Joe Rogan begged him for a podcast episode.
He declined both.
He didn’t do it for fame. Or Twitter. Or revenge.
He did it for balance.
And maybe a little bit for the deal—because nothing says "negotiating power" like a perfectly executed flying side kick at 3 a.m.
THE END.
6 months ago | [YT] | 2