An open letter to ‘Rocket Man’
DEAR Kim Jong-un, Supreme Leader of the Glorious Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Invincible Ninja Assassin and Grandmaster Flash of the Nuclear Holocaust,
Well done on telling that powercrazed manchild with ridiculous hair where to get off. Don’t let it bother you that some people are using the exact same line in messages to Donald Trump. He is a pale imitation of the real thing. You are a riddle wrapped in a dumpling inside a meatball.
I watched Trump addressing the UN this week and realised that by calling you Rocket Man, Trump is obviously threatening to deploy Elton John to Pyongyang.
The detonation of a gay bomb of this magnitude would destroy North Korea’s youth, three of whom aren’t currently serving in the army. The last thing you want is your 1st Infantry Division sashaying into battle while humming the theme song from Yentl and thrusting their hips provocatively in the direction of Japan. As it is, that goosestep is perilously close to a showgirl’s high-kick.
You’re a man who knows the importance of taking a stand and sticking to his guns. While you were threatening to bomb America, do you know what our president did this week?
He took time off from robbing the nation to sign some kind of lame treaty prohibiting the use of nuclear weapons. It’s easy when you have a uranium stockpile that can fit into a matchbox. We might as well sign a treaty prohibiting the use of exploding sheep. It’s utterly meaningless.
I hope you’re not going to let Trump get away with his empty threat to “totally destroy” North Korea. In this game of oneupmanship you have to move fast. I suggest you threaten to blow up the entire northern hemisphere. And maybe the moon. It’s the only language he understands.
Trump’s hawkish handmaiden at the UN, Nikki Haley, said your weapons tests were “exhausting conventional diplomacy”. You know what would be really exhausting? Coming home every night to Nikki bloody Haley and her glittery-eyed defence of a man with the intellect and physique of a pile of builder’s rubble.
Do you have a wife to come home to after a long day of stroking hard missiles and gasping as they burst from their fecund burrows? Please don’t think I am judging you. If you come home to a bed full of boys covered in puppy fat and baby oil, that is your business.
Did you catch whatshisface from Iran speaking at the UN? He was rabbiting on about moderation and democracy or some such rubbish. Sounded like appeasement to me. The man has plenty of enriched bomb fodder. He should act accordingly. Put Tehran on your to-bomb list at once.
I hope you have enough intercontinental ballistic missiles, old boy. It would be frightfully embarrassing to run out after blowing up Guam and Alaska before even getting around to rogue nations like New Zealand.
Our President Zuma also spoke at the UN on Wednesday. If the nuke idea doesn’t come together, you could always use him as your secret weapon. Unleash him on the US. He’d bore them to death in no time at all.
I didn’t watch his speech out of a need for self-preservation. Besides, someone else would’ve written it all for him. The only original words that ever come out of his mouth are: “It wasn’t me”, “Take it on appeal” and “Where’s my cut?”
By the way, well done on executing that uncle of yours. I never did like the look of him. What put you off ? Did you catch him smiling? Not applauding one of your spectacular public appearances?
Perhaps you were simply pruning the family. Weeding out the annoying ones. I know I’ve thought of it. You also had your half-brother whacked at Kuala Lumpur airport a few months ago while he was trying to sneak off to Disneyland in Tokyo.
I hear you used a liquid nerve agent. Nice work. Classy. It’s obvious he had to be stopped. Allow this sort of gallivanting and the next thing you know your semi-sibling is getting the imperial haircut and you’re hanging by your heels, having your throat slit.
You’re a creative man, Kim. I like that about you. For starters, you had your defence minister shot to death with anti-aircraft guns. It must’ve been a majestic sight.
That’ll teach him to fall asleep in a meeting. You also obliterated one of your army officers with a mortar round and used a flame thrower on your deputy public security minister.
This is out-of-the-box thinking and I look forward to hearing about your next revolutionary idea for executing friends and family.
You know what would be really awesome? If you strapped someone to the nose of your next missile. Then again, you give one person a free overseas flight with the promise of a quick, painless death and others would quickly queue up for the chance.
If Trump finally does go batshit crazy, you and your 25million people could always sneak across the demilitarised zone one moonless night and mingle. No offence, but you all do look alike, don’t you? North. South.
It makes no difference. You’re Koreans.
You’re almost family. A lot of you are family. The Americans would never be able to track everyone down. You might have to change your hairstyle. And shed a bit of weight.
Look, you’re never going to be the next Dennis Rodman, but you are Rocket Man. You drink and smoke heavily and show a genuine passion for casual homicide. Hell, learn how to braai and you could almost be South African.
When things quieten down, as they will after an intercontinental nuclear shindig, you should pop in for a visit.
Our people could learn from your work ethic. It’s not for nothing that you are chairman of the Workers’ Party. We have more shirkers and lurkers than workers, but we sure as hell know how to party.
You might have to bring your own teenage virgins. We’re fresh out at the moment.
Good luck, Lil’ Kim. I get the feeling you’re going to need it.
The last thing you want is your 1st Infantry Division sashaying into battle while humming the theme song from Yentl and thrusting their hips provocatively