The Kim is dead. Long live the Kim.
It’s really no wonder Kim Jong Il was a pissant tyrant with weird hair, Pumpkins. Who calls their son Kim? You just know that kid will grow up a bully. “Hey, citizen Kim! Love the glasses, big boy!”
I, for one, sure am glad supreme leaders for life with absolute power don’t set up lairs in Canada. At least not in travel. By George, we’ve got it good.
Let’s see… outsiders have no idea what goes on within the closed confines of our industry. And yes, one hears of brainwashing, but I don’t buy it. Travel is more like an infection. Of course, there are the disappearances – large collectives of comrades culled every fall. Some of our leaders do believe they were born under a special star. Drink a lot of cognac. And must be obeyed. But, unless you call a Carroll’s anger a weapon, we are not armed. I mean, we have them - arms. But not IUD’s.
Whatever your proclivities, dear Pumpkins, let light fill your heart on this first day of Hanukkah.
