as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine
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Well, it's official.
I'm banned from North Korea.
In a stunning move that shook the world, Kim Jong-un, North Korea's oval oppressor, has (I'm not kidding) outlawed sarcasm in his country. His main paranoia being that those who agree with or praise him are doing so ironically. "This is all America's fault," has now come to mean, "Nanny, nanny boo-boo."
"I am repealing the First Amendment to our constitution," he announced.
"That's the United States," Kim Jeng-a, his older brother, dared to correct him, and was then immediately riddled with bullets.
"An obvious suicide," Kim commented, stepping over him on his way to a doughnut.
In a way, I blame myself. Not many people know this, but Kim Jong-un and I went to the same prestigious school for dictators in Switzerland in the late 90s together, the Liebefeld Steinholzli School & Fish Market. It was located in Koniz, near Bern. I went there on a dancing scholarship.
He really wasn't part of the group I hung out with, but somehow he always managed to find out where we were and would show up uninvited. It wasn't until later that we discovered he had tracking devices implanted in us. I'd rather not say where.
From what I remember, he was good at math, but did poorly in his other classes, like Roller Skate Dancing and Advanced Pimple Popping 101. Still, we tried to make him feel like he was one of the gang.
"Kim," I used to trash-talk him, "you're so short you could work as a bouncer at a roach motel."
"Ah, good one, Mister Jim," Kim would exclaim, and then laugh a fraction of a second too long.
He was socially awkward, which, I guess, is better than being awkwardly social. Normal social cues were just out of his reach, so, as a result, he would either laugh too long or too loud or at inappropriate times.
"My dog just died."
"Ha, ha, ha! Good one, Mister Jim."
But all that is neither here nor there. Well, it might be here, but it's definitely not there. Unless there means here, in which case it would be both here AND there.
What happened is that when Kim Jong-un had his father assassinated, er... I mean, when his father died of natural causes and Kim became North Korea's latest tyrant du jour, he quickly got sick and tired of all the backhanded compliments he kept receiving from the other despots of the world. Russian president Vladimir Putin was especially fond of "Putin" it to the young dictator.
"Comrade, you are so smart it only takes you three hours to watch 60 Minutes."
Chinese president, Sum Ting Wong, couldn't help but join in on the fun.
"Yes, and you are very handsome as well. You are so handsome that you don't have to worry about birth control. Your face does just fine by itself."
Impotent around the other mocking world leaders, Kim had no choice but to take it out on his loyal subjects, the only ones he had the power to bully.
"Obviously, they have too good a life eating tree bark and drinking grass soup that they have become audacious and disrespectful," Kim told the closest of his advisors whom he hadn't ordered to be executed yet. Everywhere he went, his loving chattel showered him with compliments, but he was suspicious of them all.
"Surely, behind their hungry smiles and sunken eyes, they must be hiding their true sarcastic feelings."
"That's a nice haircut, Chairman."
"Have him shot."
"You look so thin, Supreme Leader."
"He thinks I'm fat. Boil him in oil."
"Hot oil, your excellency?"
"Of course I mean hot oil! What other kind of oil can a person be boiled in? And, when you're done, feed yourself to the pigs for your stupidity."
Even the elderly women, who had always found him so cute as a young child they couldn't help but pinch his chubby little cheeks, weren't above suspicion.
"May I kiss your hand, Devine One?"
"Of course you may." To his bodyguard he said: "Feed this wanton woman to the pigs, but do it gently. She IS my grandmother, after all."
His oldest brother, the wise Kim Djang-o (the "D" is silent), who had been educated in America, spoke to him.
"Kim?"
"Yes, Kim?"
"It is folly that you take away the people's capacity for sarcasm, and it will be your undoing. Listen to me, my brother, for I wish to save you from the sad fate our Muslim friends call the Gaddafi Shuffle. We are the poorest country on this humble planet, and yet you spend what money we have and what money we receive from other, greater countries on nuclear missiles that don't work and an Army we don't need. You can starve our people of food and their bodies may still work, but, if you starve their minds, they will wither away and die. Take care, lest they rise up as one, a mighty dragon seeking retribution. To think, to speak, to joke, to laugh... these are all gifts from the Gods, even sarcasm. They should be honored, not outlawed,"
Kim Jong-un sat there, mainly because he was too heavy to stand. After a thoughtful pause, he spoke.
"You have given me much to think about, my brother."
In a stunning move that shook the world, Kim Jong-un, North Korea's oval oppressor, has (I'm not kidding) outlawed sarcasm in his country. His main paranoia being that those who agree with or praise him are doing so ironically. "This is all America's fault," has now come to mean, "Nanny, nanny boo-boo."
"I am repealing the First Amendment to our constitution," he announced.
"That's the United States," Kim Jeng-a, his older brother, dared to correct him, and was then immediately riddled with bullets.
"An obvious suicide," Kim commented, stepping over him on his way to a doughnut.
In a way, I blame myself. Not many people know this, but Kim Jong-un and I went to the same prestigious school for dictators in Switzerland in the late 90s together, the Liebefeld Steinholzli School & Fish Market. It was located in Koniz, near Bern. I went there on a dancing scholarship.
He really wasn't part of the group I hung out with, but somehow he always managed to find out where we were and would show up uninvited. It wasn't until later that we discovered he had tracking devices implanted in us. I'd rather not say where.
From what I remember, he was good at math, but did poorly in his other classes, like Roller Skate Dancing and Advanced Pimple Popping 101. Still, we tried to make him feel like he was one of the gang.
"Kim," I used to trash-talk him, "you're so short you could work as a bouncer at a roach motel."
"Ah, good one, Mister Jim," Kim would exclaim, and then laugh a fraction of a second too long.
He was socially awkward, which, I guess, is better than being awkwardly social. Normal social cues were just out of his reach, so, as a result, he would either laugh too long or too loud or at inappropriate times.
"My dog just died."
"Ha, ha, ha! Good one, Mister Jim."
But all that is neither here nor there. Well, it might be here, but it's definitely not there. Unless there means here, in which case it would be both here AND there.
What happened is that when Kim Jong-un had his father assassinated, er... I mean, when his father died of natural causes and Kim became North Korea's latest tyrant du jour, he quickly got sick and tired of all the backhanded compliments he kept receiving from the other despots of the world. Russian president Vladimir Putin was especially fond of "Putin" it to the young dictator.
"Comrade, you are so smart it only takes you three hours to watch 60 Minutes."
Chinese president, Sum Ting Wong, couldn't help but join in on the fun.
"Yes, and you are very handsome as well. You are so handsome that you don't have to worry about birth control. Your face does just fine by itself."
Impotent around the other mocking world leaders, Kim had no choice but to take it out on his loyal subjects, the only ones he had the power to bully.
"Obviously, they have too good a life eating tree bark and drinking grass soup that they have become audacious and disrespectful," Kim told the closest of his advisors whom he hadn't ordered to be executed yet. Everywhere he went, his loving chattel showered him with compliments, but he was suspicious of them all.
"Surely, behind their hungry smiles and sunken eyes, they must be hiding their true sarcastic feelings."
"That's a nice haircut, Chairman."
"Have him shot."
"You look so thin, Supreme Leader."
"He thinks I'm fat. Boil him in oil."
"Hot oil, your excellency?"
"Of course I mean hot oil! What other kind of oil can a person be boiled in? And, when you're done, feed yourself to the pigs for your stupidity."
Even the elderly women, who had always found him so cute as a young child they couldn't help but pinch his chubby little cheeks, weren't above suspicion.
"May I kiss your hand, Devine One?"
"Of course you may." To his bodyguard he said: "Feed this wanton woman to the pigs, but do it gently. She IS my grandmother, after all."
His oldest brother, the wise Kim Djang-o (the "D" is silent), who had been educated in America, spoke to him.
"Kim?"
"Yes, Kim?"
"It is folly that you take away the people's capacity for sarcasm, and it will be your undoing. Listen to me, my brother, for I wish to save you from the sad fate our Muslim friends call the Gaddafi Shuffle. We are the poorest country on this humble planet, and yet you spend what money we have and what money we receive from other, greater countries on nuclear missiles that don't work and an Army we don't need. You can starve our people of food and their bodies may still work, but, if you starve their minds, they will wither away and die. Take care, lest they rise up as one, a mighty dragon seeking retribution. To think, to speak, to joke, to laugh... these are all gifts from the Gods, even sarcasm. They should be honored, not outlawed,"
Kim Jong-un sat there, mainly because he was too heavy to stand. After a thoughtful pause, he spoke.
"You have given me much to think about, my brother."
To his bodyguard he said: "Are the pigs still hungry?"
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