A Day in the Life of Xi Jinping
7:00 AM: Xi Jinping awakens to an erhu alarm, Huawei preset from Moon Audio Opulence surround sound speakers in his palatial, 1000 sq. meter bedroom.
His bedroom’s dome vaulted ceilings are 40 m high, painted revolutionary red, and the bedroom’s verdant green floor tiles are cut from solid jade.
His emperor size bed is 20 m wide, 10 m long and carved from a mix of ivory, Cartier diamond and pure, 24k Harry Winston gold.
His scruffy bedhead rests on panda bear skin, ostrich feather stuffed, Van der Hilst pillows, and he rubs his eyes and yawns into consciousness.
The bedsheets are Super Soft Fuzzy China silk, tailor made by Chanel, and his blanket a Chanasya Super Soft Long Shaggy Chic Fuzzy with Fluffy Sherpa (and micro mink)…
The bed’s Kluft mattress is made from blue whale and black rhino bone, and is filled with feathers of extinct, rare bird species only known to specific scientists.
7:05 AM: His cavalcade of PLA servants march in single file, enter his room, serve Xi breakfast in bed, presented on sparklingly shiny fine .999 silver tray, with .999 silver spoons and .999 silver chopsticks…
Breakfast is always the same: black truffle porridge, 8 fried dough-sticks, a tea-boiled egg, sliced dragon fruit and bananas, opal crystal glass of soymilk, and Qing Dynasty porcelain cup of Da Hong Pao tea (lightly mixed with sugarcane juice and crushed, dried tiger penis powder).
(Xi Jinping, being an active, practicing, secret society illuminati lizard man/anal vampire, is given a daily injection of blood, rectally; a PLA scientist administering the enema from a hose attached from a wheeled slushie-like roto-machine, slipping the lubed hose in Xi’s anus, jetting up Xi’s anal cavity an enema of blood plasma; a plasma concocted, designed, by top Chinese scientists; its mixture- blood from tiger cubs, Cambodian and Uyghur bred/selected children…)
After his morning enema, whilst eating breakfast, Xi clicks on his Stuart Hughes Prestige HD Supreme Edition, 188 inch TV, watches CCTV News, CCTV5 Sports, and occasionally hate-watches Taiwan news channels, shaking with anger at Cai Yingwen’s face, hacking/spitting at the TV screen, and plots schemes to massacre bandits in Hong Kong, those picking quarrels…
Xi Jinping sleeps alone these days. His wife, Peng, complaining of his flatulence, sleeps in an adjacent 1000 sq. meter bedroom.
8:00 AM: By this time Xi Jinping has eaten his breakfast, smoked a Panda cigarette or two and listened, on Huawei smart speaker, to his secretary’s morning “en en en, blah, blah, blah” briefing.
He’ll press a button and have his personal grooming team brush his teeth with Theodent 300 toothpaste, shave his face w/the Zafirro razor, a $100,000 shaver with an iridium handle and sapphire blades.
Afterwards, his wardrobe team enters. After shedding his panda fur bathrobe, Xi Jinping slips on his iKingsky Men’s Sexy Low-Rise T-Back Thong Underwear.
His tailors, wardrobe consultants take constant measurements and adjustments due to his ever-expanding waistline; once appropriate figures are gathered, he’ll be fitted into a Brioni Vanquish II three-piece suit.
Due to incontinence, he’ll be also fitted with a Tranquility Elite adult vacuum seal diaper (to avoid another incident like with the Prime Minister of Kyrgyzstan.)
It’s about this time the first of his various bowel movements occur. Throughout his many sprawling mansions, he has had installed Hang Fung Golden electronic throne toilets that cleanse, air dry, and massage his anus, utilizing the latest in 5G Huawei technology/quantum physics…
Whilst on the toilet he reads the People’s Daily Sports Section, reviews/crosses names off his enemies list, and hate-reads the New York Times.
(His toilet is also equipped with a special robotic prostate massage function which he finds pleasurable and enjoys from time to time, especially after his regular bouts of diarrhea.)
9:00 AM: Disciplined cadres, those without face, carry Xi by Buccellati golden palanquin down the marble hallways, lead him to the meeting hall; the room consisting of a mahogany seat/roundtable, folding seat outer circles (chairs constructed from dissidents’ bones, and the rooms’ walls painted red from the blood of executed prisoners, Falun Gong.)
In the meeting halls, the AC is purposely never set. It’s kept either miserably hot or chillingly cold, dependent on weather conditions, upon Xi’s command…
The 9 AM will be the first of his many meetings throughout the day. It’s always begun by an underling crawling in on all fours, springing to his feet, and reciting a prepared statement, economic statistics, presenting charts, budgets for budgets, and updating the status of various development projects, updating plans for plans about plans and initiatives for the BRI.
The underling is occasionally lashed via bullwhip by a higher-ranking cadre or forced to lick the bare feet, chew foot fungus of superiors.
When economic, pollution numbers are especially disappointing, underlings, and at times all cadres must in unison bow, drink fresh heritage pig blood…
Aside from the unbridled joy of humiliating the underling, Jinping rarely pays much attention during meetings, and zones out, thinking of UEFA Champions League, his asset portfolio, his mistresses, or what he might eat for lunch.
However, if something does spark his interest, he’ll interrupt and, at times angrily, speak his mind, or castigate a comrade, slap or zap cadres with an electric mosquito swatter.
If, in the chance Xi speaks, the room is dead silent.
(One time a feisty cadre from Ningxia made the mistake of unharmoniously talking over Xi Jinping. That cadre has not been heard from since. Rumor has him inspecting air quality, monitoring coal refuse in Shijiazhuang. Although the blogger who posted that rumor to Weibo has, himself, disappeared, so it’s impossible to verify…)
Morning meetings range in time from 2 to 3 hours.
12 PM: Lunch time. Xi Jinping and his inner circle are ferried by Van Cleef Arpels golden golf carts to a spectacular dining hall with impossibly high, 100 m, immaculately painted, vaulted ceilings; the halls’ walls with Wang Xizhi calligraphy and renderings of Mount Penglai, Eight Pillars; dragons, tigers, ox, rabbit; Great Wall frescoes; hammer and sickle flags hanging in perfectly straight lines, every 8 meters.
His inner circle, men around his age, mostly with wealth-bellies, jet black comb-overs and always in matching white collared buttoned-down shirts and well-ironed black slacks, sit around a circular table, smoking Panda cigarettes.
The Lazy Susan slowly spins, is circled with piping hot trays of pork steamed buns, steamed pork dumplings, fried pork dumplings, handmade noodles, fried chicken, sweet/sour chicken, sweet/sour fish, fried pork, minced pork, fried beef, fried, pickled vegetables, and heaping bowls of steamed rice.
Xi Jinping waits for everyone else to begin before taking the first bite.
During lunch, not much is said, except for brief talks of future diplomatic visits, market fluctuations, European football matches, Olympics updates, and future Party gatherings.
Xi Jinping usually doesn’t speak, just sits and smokes Treasurer or New Century cigarettes, nods and voices an occasional “eng…” to demonstrate comprehension or agreement…
Following lunch, Xi Jinping is brought by palanquin back to his bedroom for his 2-hour afternoon nap.
He again awakes to his erhu alarm, smokes a Panda cigarette, pushes a call-button and receives his daily foot and neck massage from a young female servant or two.
3 PM to 5:30 PM: Another meeting or three. Perhaps a visit from a foreign dignitary seeking investment.
Sometimes a visit to a random city or remote village, where, flanked by bodyguards, he’ll speak with the proletariat, many a villager in hysterics, weeping, and sometimes a village elder, smiling toothlessly with his whole face, clutching to Xi’s arm, and then Xi will recite to them a prepared statement, stating how unworthy he is of their devotion to the Chinese Nation, Party and the Socialist cause…
Cigarettes are strictly prohibited during State visits or village visit, except off camera or in bathrooms…
5:30 PM: Dinner with his wife, the inner circle and their wives.
Dinner is often the same fare as lunch, though is heavy on exported version of Tsingtao beer, bottles and bottles of Maotai, various baijiu, heavier on cigarettes.
After dinner, Xi Jinping and his wife have their evening stroll around the compound.
She’ll dictate policy to him in contorted faces and sometimes they’ll argue, and she’ll smack him in the ear, or he slaps her upside the head, and they’ll push and shove, need to be separated by security.
After their walk, Peng goes for her square-dancing and Xi Jinping is brought by palanquin to the sauna.
Xi Jinping sits in the Russian sauna for 20 minutes or so, and is wheeled out, on a rolling table, and scrubbed down, table-bathed and massaged by a young female masseuse, with whom he’ll now and then fornicate or perform other sexual activities (particularly that of prostate massage milking).
Following this, he’s wheeled into a massive Persian style shower room, hand-washed by two or three young female servants, dried, smeared from head to toe in tiger balm, fitted into a tailored red Mulberry silk imperial robe, and driven back by golden golf cart to his master bedroom, so he can retire for the evening.
9 PM: Xi Jinping is in bed, snacking on Harðfiskur dried fish, chain smoking Pandas, drinking Da Hong Pao tea and will nod off while clicking between CCTV, American gangster TV, movies, and Bloomberg TV.
11 PM: A servant enters his quarters, tucks him into his covers, fits him with a Tranquility Elite adult diaper to prevent bedwetting and turns off the TV and lights.
