The Kim is dead

Dear Leader, perhaps the greatest golfer who ever lived, is dead. And have a look at these people carrying on.

I love the guys who pound their fists on the ground, like they can't believe it! Like it's not fair! Don't think for a minute that it's genuine. It's a show for the neighbours. If it's anything like Japan, which I think it is, they'll have a schedule for crying, with overseers with clip boards stamping the names off of the mourners who grieve adequately, and a gold star for those who really turn it on. And then you have the true believers who say "look how much I'm crying!" and everyone else worried that they are not crying enough in comparison. Mind you, if your neighbour can dob you in and have you shot for not crying sufficiently, it's probably a good idea to cry. Cry for your own ignorance and cowardice for letting it get this bad, you North Korean fools. Cry for that. Someone should have put a bullet in that guy's head a long time ago. And someone should put one in the head of his fat ugly son, too, before it really gets out of hand. I bet Toyota and Foxconn and Apple and Nike can't wait to have a go at these people. What a pliant, gullible, weak, passive lot they must be. Pay them with rice.
Meanwhile, here in Japan, this morning it was my department's turn to turn up to work half an hour early and line up outside the entrance and yell "good morning!" to all 600 workers who enter. I didn't, of course. I am much too cool to do that. Really, I'm serious. I am too cool to do that.