Meanwhile in California:
This just goes to show that even North Koreans can have a sense of humor:
“I smacked my head on the bathroom floor,” a bloodied and bandaged President Barack Obama says, “as I was so shocked by North Korea’s hydrogen bomb detonation!”
This is satirical political comedy, Pyongyang style.
It just wouldn’t be Christmas without posting Chickenhead’s hilarious carol “Christmas on the DMZ”:
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the DMZ,
the darkness was stirred by a lone Christmas tree.
Love gifts were hung from the balloons with care,
in hopes they’d pass north through the cold winter air.
The soldiers were nestled all snug in their bunks,
while visions of peaceful reunification gave them goose bumps.
With a ho in her hooker boots, and I in the buff,
I had just bent her over to treat her ass good and rough.
When out on the lawn arose loud banging and clicking,
I sprang from my bed to see whose ass needed kicking.
Away to the window I flew all in fear,
knocked over my soju and two bottles of beer.
The moon on the snow and the flares in the sky,
gave the luster of mid-day so I could not deny.
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,
but a horde of Nork soldiers, tanks and artillery.
With pictures of Dear Leader and muzzle flashes aglow,
I wished for more combat training instead of briefings from EO.
They yelled threats and commands, I knew I was funked.
My Tagalog was great but my Korean skills sucked.
“Now, Kim! Now, Lee! Now, Park and Gong!
On, Choi! On Kwak! On, Nam and Song!
To the top of the hill! To the top of the wall!
Now kill the white devils, kill them all!”
And they hit the main gate the first time they tried,
where napping KATUSAs with empty guns died.
They attacked the wall of the BX and opened a chasm,
and looted the place, a black market orgasm.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard down the hall,
shooting and stabbing and harsh Han Gook Mal.
As I searched for a weapon and looked all around,
an evil Nork soldier came in with a bound.
He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his foot,
and his sockless toes could be seen through his boot.
A smoking AK he had flung on his back,
and I picked up my XBox to give him a whack.
His eyes – how they twinkled! Narrow and scarry!
But he looked like a teen who still had his cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in rage,
and though I hadn’t saved my game, I had to engage.
A rusty old knife, he held in his teeth,
as with hunger abound, he’d likely eaten the sheath.
He had a big square head and lacked any belly,
while I only passed my tape test on a diet of petroleum jelly.
I put down my XBox and said, “Here’s the deal.”
“If you don’t kill me, I’ll cook you a meal.”
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his plate,
and gobbled Hamburger Helper like a trailer park date.
To get him to leave, I thought of more ploys,
“Why don’t you take my hot juicy back to your boys?”
He sprang out the door with my juicy in tow,
and the last that I saw, they’d formed a line in the snow.
I hid under my bed with my XBox on,
And played Medal of Honor ’till the airstrike got here from Guam.