OK, it's probably going to be Cheetah. After all, he and I had more in common than I did with Great Leader. (Refer to the illustration at the left, it speaks volumes!)
I just don't know where to start with Uncle Jung-iL. No, wait, yes I do. How about a little humor to brighten up the worlds loss. Ahh, poor Kim Jung-iL. But at least he no ill no more. He dead. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I swear, sometimes I just kill me.
I'll give the balding little Asian pear credit for one thing though, he sure knows how to make an exit. I mean, c'mon, THREE 1976 Lincoln Continental stretch limos (where the bloody hell did he get those things???), a fleet of Mercedes S-class sedans that stretched back to the horizon (how did he manage to keep all of the garage door openers organized???) and enough hired mourners to cast an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical with (all of whom were wearing brand new Western-style clothing. When did UPS start servicing Pyongyang???). I did think the Lincoln's were a nice touch even if the media did keep screwing the funeral cortege description up. They kept referring to him going to his last rewards in a Lincoln hearse. As in INSIDE a Lincoln hearse. What he actually did was go to his last rewards ON a Lincoln limo. As in strapped to the roof of it. I don't know about all of you but the only thing I could think of when I saw that was how the Griswold family strapped poor Aunt Edna to the roof of the Country Squire after she died in "National Lampoon's Vacation". All it would have taken was the driver slamming on the breaks to avoid a stray dog running across the street (yeah, like that's ever going to happen in North Korea) and the People's Glorious Republic would have had a dead despot, nipples to the wind, cascading down onto the hood of the Great Satan's vintage land yacht while children fainted, women wailed and vendors sold the local North Korean delicacies of dirt clod on a stick, dirt clod in a cup and dirt clod on a rope. As an aside on the Lincoln's, Ford headquarters has refused all requests for a comment. Something tells me someone in Detroit got a train load of kimchi back in 1976...
Have you noticed that there hasn't been a single word about how he died? That can only mean one thing: EMBARRASSING AS HELL!!! I'm opting for a scenario that includes a whore house, a three-legged mulatto conjoined twin hooker, a Hennessey cognac enema, a leather umbrella and a bit of auto-erotic asphyxiation that took a turn for the worse. I can only assume that the mop and bucket brigade that got sent in to "sanitize" the situation are all now pulling double shifts in a salt mine somewhere and their families have all been relocated to a communal farm where they are happily planting next years crop of dirt clods. Arbeit macht frei, as they say...
More than anything I will miss his fashion sense (OK, I've stopped laughing now) which was always about as exciting as beige. Well, now that I think about it, it actually was beige. He single handedly brought new importance to the polyester leisure suit, the comb-over and vintage Jackie-O "spot welder" sunglasses of which he was reported to have had over 500 pairs. He once told me that he had so many so he could keep a pair in each of his Mercedes'. Spoken like a true fashionista!!! Thank god Gianni Versace is dead, this would have killed him!!!
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