Archive for the ‘Kim Kardashian’ Category

Check it out, y’all, tha BRILLIANT COMRADE got bitchez in high places, yo:

Interviewer: How would you handle a situation like the one that just developed in North Korea?

Palin: Well, North Korea, this is stemming from a greater problem, when we’re all sitting around asking, ‘Oh no, what are we going to do,’ and we’re not having a lot of faith that the White House is going to come out with a strong enough policy to sanction what it is that North Korea is going to do. So this speaks to a bigger picture that certainly scares me in terms of our national security policy. But obviously, we’ve got to stand with our North Korean allies – we’re bound to by treaty….

Interviewer: South Korean.

Palin: Yes, and we’re also bound by prudence to stand with our South Korean allies, yes.

Sarah Palin be some crazy ass Round Eyes bitch who be all over tha tv. I think she like a older and less hotter version of my cousin I’m gonna marry Kim Kardashian – she famous for nothing. Good to know that celebrities be loving on tha J-UNIT. Sure I be into this ledership game but I be thinking that once I be getting bored with this shit right here, Hollywood really be where I seeing myself in tha future.  Once I get my recording studio all sorted and start droppin sum proletarian science onto wax, yo, then I be making a name for myself in showbiz yo and I be guessing then it just a matter of time, yo.

BC be on Roc–A–Fella pretty soon and fuck all y’all devils that be sayin othawize.

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A big weekend for the 4 STAR G, yo.

Went down in Macao with my homie Major Choe and his dad, the Ambassador to China Pyong-Gwan, or Big Choe as I call him, on Friday.

You know we be running out of that weed that we be exchanging those nuclear weapons parts with tha Afghan Al Qaeda punx for, yo? It was time for Round 2. But Choe’s dad be saying we also needing mad cash from those punx, too. Says the peaceful reunification of the Korean Peninsula under the enlightened leadership of Kim Jong-Il, and with fidelity to the doctrines of Juche and Songun ain’t gonna pay for itself, yo.

It was all sorted, yo.

Me and Major Choe and Major Choe’s dad was supposed to meet with this Saudi businessman in the private gaming room number 47A of the MGM Grand Macao casino.

It was all going to plan, too.

We’s sitting there drinking our Monkey Gland cocktails when tha sandnigga walks in.

That be when tha trouble starts, yo.

Ok, maybe like my dad be saying when I got home this morning and told him my side of the dialectical equation that it all started to go to shit after my fifth Monkey Gland. Maybe.

Anyway, the sandnigga walks in and he go all like, “I am here on behalf of the Foreign Minister, his Highness Prince Saud al-Faisal.”

That when I lose it, yo.

They punked me, yo.

Prince Saud al-Faisal?  He tha same guy that be talking all shit to my girl Kim Kardashian and telling her not to be friending me on MySpace and shit. He tha same guy I’s gonna nuke at tha G20 if she don’t add me, yo!

They punking me, yo!

So I say “no way man! No way I gonna be punked like this and be giving this warhead over to some representative of that chump, yo.” I be like, “check it, we out of here. We ain’t being punked like some punk ass punks, yo. We gone, man, we fucking gone, yo.”

And the Saudi be all like “we got a deal” and shit as if he ain’t just there to punk me, yo.

So I don’t really know but some how we all be getting into a fight until security be coming to separate us.

Big Choe be explaining how he a very important person and he got immunity and shit. So when he and Little Choe be stopping the security guards from looking in the diplomatic bag with the warhead in it, that’s when I made a run for it, yo.

Man I never run so fast in my life. Except that time that me and Little Choe be running away from the head of the Central Bank after I be all hitting on his daughter.

Man, they was good times…

So I got back to the hotel we be at, tha Best Western Sun Sun, and I be calling Little Choe on his phone, but there be no answer, yo.

I keep blowing that chump up for like a half an hour but there still no answer.

So I be all like, “fuck it, nigga think he too good to party with the J-Unit, I’ll have my own party, yo” and I went to find me some hookers.

So when I get back to Pyongyang this morning, some army chumps waiting at the airport. They take me straight to my dad’s pad. I’s thinking he’s gonna wanna watch more dirty movies, but it ain’t like that. Luckily, all it be is that Big Choe and Little Choe were kicked out of Macao and ain’t never allowed back.

The old man told me that we had to pay the Chinese a whole lot of money to cover up the fact that we left a nuclear warhead in the casino. Says they ain’t gonna give it back, neither. Says they be saying we can’t be trusted and we fucked up bad this time. Says he be saying that peaceful nuclear development be the birthright of the Korean nation, yo, but they still say they not giving it back.

He also be saying that if the MGM headquarters find out what we did in their Macao casino that they’ll probably tell the CIA or something and then we’ll really be fucked.

Says that Big Choe been replaced as Ambassador to China, too.

And that Little Choe ain’t gonna be my military attaché no more.

Says they both fucked up big time when they agreed to let me come with them, yo. The old man says they paying the price for my incompetence.

He ask me how that feels, yo. And how it feels to be gonna lead the whole Korean people to ruin, yo. And how it feel to be as big a fuck up as my fat fuck brother Jong-Nam, yo.

I say I’s just glad we not gonna have to watch pornos together again. That was hella creepy last time.

This joint for my nigga Little Choe, yo. I sure hope you like digging coal or being a laboratory experiment or whatever else they be got you doin’. Even though you gone we still a team…

I got some bad news, some good news, and some weird news, y’all.

Check it.

Y’all know how I was majorly pissed as the Chump Corea newspaper Chosun Ilbo for printing that story about the big ass porn stash we got going up here, yo? Cos you know how I was worried that my dad might find out and yell at me and call me a no good punk like he always do – or worse, confiscate it.

Well. It kinda happened. Just not in tha way I be expecting, yo.

Check it.

I guess one of his generals must read tha Chump Corea news because early this morning, like 10 o’clock, I had these soldiers knocking on my bedroom door.

I opened it and they be all like, “where is the porn, General Kim?”

And I’m like, “nigga, wot? There ain’t no porn here. That Jong-Nam’s thang, it ain’t mine. I just read the essays of the Great Leader, gramps, and Enver Hoxha and shit.”

Then they be all like, “with all greatest respect and deference, o Morningstar General, give up the porn, bitch.”

So I go get the box of tapes and magazines – but not my copy of my girl Kim Kardashian’s movie, yo. Yo, I don’t care that she my cousin, I would hit that shit so hard.

They say, “get dressed and come with us.”

They be putting me in the back of a army jeep and we be driving to my dad’s Pyongyang pad. I know this ain’t gonna be good, yo. For real – the old man don’t even want to see me normally unless it some special occasion like a parade or Chuseok or those bridge nights that Sul-Song organizes, cos then he has to.

So I know this gonna be bad, yo.

The soldiers take me to the foyer of dad’s pad and talk to some nigga on tha phone. Then they be taking me down some stairs to the basement – that a place that we never was allowed to go as younguns, yo. Everyone be always saying to me, “yo, keep out of tha basement, Jong-Un. Your old man a very important nigga and he be working down there for tha good of tha Korean people and the peaceful reunification of tha muthaland and the furtherance of the Juche ideal” and shit.

So I ain’t ashamed to say I be messing myself worse than tha first time I be seeing one of those SNSD joints, yo. But in a bad way.

They knock on the door of this room and I hear this voice that sound like tha old man from inside go, “come in.”

The soldiers open the door for me and shove me inside. The close the door and I hear them walk away.

Inside it’s the old man, aiight.

He’s sitting on this grungy old couch in a North Korea football team tracksuit in a room full of shelves of videos and dvds and shit. He’s got a six pack of Taedonggang beer and a box of tissues.

He look at me and he go, “so you like fuck films, huh?”

And I be like, “no way, nigga! Those soldiers planted that shit in my room, yo! They agents of the South, yo, they be trying to undermine the Party, yo! We should kill them now before they can spread their lies to the masses!”

He grunts and shows me this old video tape. He goes, “you ever seen this one?”

It got all these round eyes in it with big hair and big tits. It look serious old school for real.

He say, “1970s Swedish pornography has never been beaten. It is timeless. Malmö Goddamn is a classic of that peerless era.”

I don’t know what to say, yo.

The old man go, “I watched this with my father. Now I will watch this with you. Sit.”

He crack open a beer and I sit on the other end of the couch.

He pushes some buttons on the remote control and the lights go all dim and this old movie screen comes down from the ceiling.  “Many of the directors were committed Communists,” he say. “Our comrades in the DDR made many fine fuck films, but there was something special about the Swedish adult film movement of that era. There was a combination of bold imagination and solid cinematic training that can only be described as a dialectical interplay of almost juche-orientated artistic production. Interestingly, many of the finest adult film makers of that era had trained in Leningrad; many of the cinematic techniques that we see in productions from Kinostudiya Lenfilm at that time are apparent in the Swedish fuck films of the era as well. The influence of Kheifets, in particular, is obvious.” He keep going on and on and on like this through most of the first half of the movie.

The he decide he wanna crack one off, yo.

I can’t say that it woulda been better to get sent to the coal mines – I sent a lot of niggaz there that prolly waiting for me and wanting to get all Malmö Goddamn on my ass.

I’m glad he ain’t mad at me, also. And I guess it’s kind of cool to be spending time with the old nigga, wot with he be all dying and shit. I can’t remember tha last time we spent more than five minutes in the room together without him telling me I’s a no good punk and gonna be tha ruin of the Kim family and the Juche ideal.

One thing I can say, yo, I sure as shit hope I never have to watch porn with my dad ever again.

Yo, first up, big reminder to you all to be friending tha J-Unit over at MySpace, yo.

There be less than a month for me to get 1000 friends or else I’m gonna nuke all those punks at the G20 summit in Seoul – especially those sandnigga Saudis who be talking all shit about me to my girl, Kim Kardashian.

Check it, my Round Eye nigga Matthew McConaughey did the right thing, he be hitting me up to be friends.

If you wanna rap with the 4 STAR G, but you also want me to nuke those chumps, you can friend me over at Friendster, yo. Friendster basically MySpace but for us bugs. So if you wanna friend me over there, check it, I don’t want no slant-eyed bugs over there, so if you ain’t got your eyes fixed yet, get that shit sorted, yo. You making the Master Race look bad looking all Asian and shit.

Aiight, then.

So y’all remember my confusion a few days back over the video of the parade? How there be some space kids busting their moves? Turns out that shit was for real and not just something I was hallucinating because I was mad blunted and took that horse tranq.

Check it:

So I ask my homie Major Choe, wtf?

And he got no fucking idea, yo. But that ain’t surprising for that stoner ass punk.

So Choe do what he always do when all confused and shit.

He check his diary. He be writing in that diary all the time, yo. It full of shit he be calling ‘automatic writing’ and designs for furniture and shit. He indexes that muthafucka like only some obsessive stoner can.

And it turns out that not only is there a for real space program up in this worksers paradise, yo, but check it: I’m in charge.

When we find out shit like this, it ususally because of something that happened back in January.

We call that our “lost month”, yo.

It was snowing like a muthafucka so we couldn’t go outside and play, and Choe got his hands on this crystal powder shit they use in the Kim Chaek University for experiments on rats and shit.

O man. That shit got us mad blunted. It put us right to sleep.

For real. We was putting that shit on our coco puffs at breakfast. We was living like fucking zombies for that whole month.

A whole lot of meetings and decisions and shit happened that we just got no idea about.

Including the inaugural meeting of the DPRK Interplanetary Ideological Exploration Committee which I was chairing.

Turns out the old man put me in charge. Turns out the military and tha Korean Committee of Space Technology aren’t happy with just pretending to shoot sattelites into space.

They want to put a nigga on Mars.

They want the Juche ideology to taken to the outer spheres or some shit.

There’s a lot of stuff we still can’t remember but check it, we got a a €50,000 budget…

Yo, check it.

Guess what those pussy ass southerners are doing next month?

That’s right, they be hosting tha G20 summit in Seoul. That’s tha meeting of the leaders of the 19 wealthiest and most influential playas in tha world.

Plus Ausfalia.

Guess who ain’t invited, yo?

That’s right, the Fresh Prince of Pyongyang.

And that be suiting me just fine, yo. Fuck those chump ass Mexican Koreans and fuck all y’all Round Eyes chumps. Your parties suck ass, man. I be hearing there gonna be a half a million cops there, yo. Man, fuck tha police, yo. You can’t party with a half million pigs on your case. Fuck that shit, amirite?

I got a better idea, yo.

How about I just nuke those chumps?

Fuck you Obama, you’ve fucked with my shit one too many times. Fuck you, Zhou Xiaochuan, governor of the People’s Bank of China. I’ll teach you to deny me an overdraft the night before a big ass date with four Cambodian hookers. Fuck you, Geithner you sanction-loving punk ass nerd, enjoy 20 million mega-tonnes you fag.

And fuck you, Saudi Finance Minister Ibrahim bin Abdulaziz bin Abdullah Al-Assaf, I know you been telling Kim Kardashian not to return my calls. And I know Saud al-Faisal been telling her not to friend me on MySpace – you think you can get away with that you fucking sandnigga punk? I know You hairy ass sandniggaz are all in it together. Fuck all y’all, yo.

Quit getting in the way of me fucking my cousin Kim Kardashian, you Saudi punks!!!

So check it. If I get 1000 friends hit me up on MySpace by November 12 when that punk ass meeting be starting, yo, I’m gonna nuke that joint all to shit.

Word be bond, y’all. Tha J-Unit be for reals.

So add me, bitches!

 

You know tha 4 STAR G, yo.

He be all love and giving all the time.

Like my big ups the other day to my choson fagz.

But when tha J-Unit gonna get some love back, yo?

I be sick of fucking skinny ass hookers all tha time, yo.

It time for a deep and meaningful relationship between equals.

Yeah, I’s talking about you, Kim Kardashian.

What tha fuck, bitch?

You don’t return my calls or my letters.

And now you won’t even add me on MySpace?

What tha fuck, yo?

Who be all defending you when Wolfowitz saying you just a fat ass mud shark, yo?

We be pulling out of the 6 party talks over that disrespeck to tha Kim family, yo.

And bitch, where tha love back?

I been suppoting you when no one be supporting you, yo. We’s family, bitch.

I made every muthafucka in my class at Kim Il-Sung Military College buy a copy of that romantic comedy movie you made with Ray J.

I fucking made them, yo.

Some of those niggas be all like, “but it cost 2 months wages, yo”. But I fucking made them.

One nigga I sent to the coal mines when I caught him trying to download that joint illegally off the internet.

I even bought those chump ass salads you be advertising. We used half our foreign currency reserves on the delivery charges, yo.

But what a cousin for be what I’m asking?

So where the fucking love, yo?

Bitch, I can wait.

But check it: I ain’t gonna wait forever, yo.