The University of Chicago’s Independent Student Newspaper since 1892

Chicago Maroon

The University of Chicago’s Independent Student Newspaper since 1892

Chicago Maroon

The University of Chicago’s Independent Student Newspaper since 1892

Chicago Maroon

Aaron Bros Sidebar

Did they play tonsel hockey?

Ever since I found out that he once shot 18 consecutive holes-in-one in a single round of golf, and t

Ever since I found out that he once shot 18 consecutive holes-in-one in a single round of golf, and that he wrote and directed a critically acclaimed film entitled “Diary of a girl student,” I have had a soft spot in my heart for North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il. Sure, he probably wants me dead, and, ok, he’s largely responsible for the country’s massive food shortage (only exacerbated by the fact that he singlehandedly ate the nation’s supply of “giant” rabbits). But being the child of a famous dictator is not easy, and it doesn’t help matters that he apparently only has one set of clothes, stole Joe Paterno’s glasses, and rocks a haircut that could probably be most accurately described in musical terms as “neo-electroshock, post-fade.”Anyways, despite his nation’s almost complete lack of electricity, Il-matic is back in the news after declaring himself “an internet expert.” That’s a bomb shell, no doubt. But wait, there’s more! From the AP article:

Kim reportedly asked former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright for her e-mail address when she visited Pyongyang in 2000. A North Korean general cracked a joke about President Bush during high-level military talks with the South earlier this year, saying he read it on the Internet.

Well if that doesn’t add a whole new angle to the US–North Korea conflict. This makes Karl Rove asking out Margaret Spellings (Spellings’ take: “Have you met Karl Rove?”) seem like something out of Sixteen Candles. It was merely child’s play compared to Kim Jong-Il’s power play for the heart of Madame Secretary. He was Paris and she would be his Helen–or at least that’s how it played out in his head in the weeks leading up to the summit. And then he got to the meeting, sweating profusely, spinach in his teeth, and muttered something incomprehensible like “Madame Secretary e-mail request internet type” and she returned his fawning, open-mouthed gaze with a blank stare. “I’m so stupid!” he yelled under his breath as he walked away, more determined than ever to win over his silver-haired crush by increasing his nuclear capability.

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