Some Thoughts on Our Dear Leader

OK, look. It’s 2012. Obviously it’s been a while since this blog has been updated. More than two years! That is a lot of years. So many years. Might as well be all the years, when you take the time to think about it. (Please do not take the time to think about it.) Astounding things have happened since the last JiK post. (Fresh new acronym for a fresh new decade.) The McRib returned, only to leave us again like a rubbery, barbeque-sauce-flavored version of LeBron James’s dad. “I” moved to Korea full-time, got a job, wrote a “real” blog about “my” time there, and eventually moved to New York. Dumb people still care about Michael Jackson being dead. Apparently, those are the only things I can think of that happened between August 2009 and now.

So, yeah, these days I might be one-percenting it up (Oh! That’s another thing that happened, right?) on my stupid little island Manhattan-adjacent, but this isn’t Justin in New York, it’s Justin in Korea and there’s Korean news to talk about, which means we need to talk about it here.

Maybe you didn’t know (you knew), but the great leader, Kim Jong Il, is dead. The North Korean government stated that the cause of death was a heart attack, but let’s try to think critically at least for a moment, yes? Because that is what happens on this blog—critical thinking, endless critical thinking. Everyone knows (EVERYONE) that the number one cause of death in Korea is flying robots. Studies have shown that at any time the average Korean is operating no fewer than ten Bluetooth enabled devices. That’s three Bluetooth devices per hand, even given that one of those devices is probably a Bluetooth hand. It’s a small wonder, then, every Korean doesn’t die whilst piloting their giant flying robots. The whole thing is a safety nightmare.

(You are more likely to die driving your giant robot to the airport than you are in a plane crash.)

I’m not talking about giant flying robots, however, and therefore the majority of the last paragraph has no point. I’m talking about (FOR ONCE) regular-sized flying robots. Not just any regular-sized flying robots, though, regular sized flying CONSTRUCTION robots. LOOK AT THESE FUCKERS:

This is horrifying. Not only will these robots murder us while we waste time eating, sleeping, reproducing, etc. they will then construct architecturally significant tombs for us wherever they’ve cut us down. I’m not saying I know for sure that this is what happened to Kim Jong Il, but let’s be honest: this is what happened to Kim Jong Il. This is necessarily true because robots are assholes. Let this be a warning to all of us: they got to the man who invented the hamburger; they can most assuredly get to you.

Since this is likely to be the last JiK post ever (and just when we got a new acronym), it seems like a downer to end on the fact that we’re all going to be murdered by flying Roombas and entombed in minature Walt Disney Concert Halls.

So, one last time: FAMOUS KOREAN MOVIE LINES!

-- “I drink your lotte milkshake! I drink it up!”

-- “One does not simply walk into Pyongyang.”

-- “I want to play a game… that game is Starcraft.”

-- “All we have to decide is what to do with the bag of rice that’s given to us.”*

-- “There’s no crying in Starcraft!”

-- “A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some radishes and a nice fried spam.”

*North Korea only.

Your turn? Leave your quotes in the comments.

The Other Minister

What a week! Monday, I had the singular honor of meeting the Prime Minister of South Korea, Han Seung-soo! Obviously, it would have been rude to post during my visit, and I haven’t been able to make it online in a few days, but Monday I night I wrote up a quick diary entry. While I was visiting, Seung-soo had a meeting with none other than Kim-Jong Il! What a privilege! Here’s an excerpt of what happened:

 

“Whatever the press and the opposition might say, the Prime Minister is not a foolish man. It had not escaped his notice that, despite Kim Jong’s assurances at their first meeting, they were now seeing rather a lot of each other, nor that Kim Jong was becoming more flustered with each visit. Little though he liked to think about the Supreme Commander of the Korean People’s Army (or, as he always called Kim Jong Il in his head, the Other Minister), the Prime Minister could not help but fear that the next time Kim Jon appeared it would be with graver news still. The site, therefore, of Kim Jong stepping out of the fire once more, looking disheveled and fretful and sternly surprised that the Prime Minister did not know exactly why he was there, was about the worst thing that had happened in the course of this extremely gloomy week.

“How should I know what’s going on in the – er – North Korean community?” snapped the Prime Minister now. “I have a country to run and quite enough concerns at the moment without –“

“We have the same concerns,” Kim Jong interrupted. “The Brockdale Bridge didn’t wear out. That wasn’t really a hurricane. Those murders were not the work of Japanese. And Herbert Chorley’s family would be safer without him. We are currently making arrangements to have him transferred to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Koreans. The move should be effected tonight.”

“What do you… I’m afraid I… What?” blustered the Prime Minister.

Kim Jong took a great, deep breath and said, “Prime Minister, I am very sorry to have to tell you that he’s back. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.”

 

Korea! What a place!