Archive for the ‘North Korea’ Category

Rare that the J-UNIT issue an apology, yo. The BRILLIANT COMRADE not be normally in tha bidness of making mistakes is why.

But when I fuck shit up, the 4 STAR G be man enough to own up to his fuck ups.

So check it:

I’s sorry that I started shooting at you Chump Corea soldiers in Gangwon yesterday. I fucked up, y’all. I wasn’t trying to start nothing. I just thought I saw tha Hobgoblin.

You know, from Spider-Man.

And, ok, yeah, I had been drinking. And, ok, yeah, I was also fucked up on ‘shrooms. And, ok, yeah, our subsequent investigations have shown conclusively that y’all weren’t tha Hobgoblin. And, ok. yeah, turns out also that you weren’t laughing at me because my girl Kim Kardashian won’t friend me on MySpace and calling me a punk ass powerpoint.

It just sure as shit look like that be what happening, yo.

I want y’all to appreciate that in tha spirit of the peaceful reunification of the muthaland and shit that I’ve made a promise to myself that next time I go on a tour of the military posts along the DMZ to visit our brave soldiers who somehow fucked up really bad or pissed off some Party Official or whatever and got they chump asses assigned to the front line cannonfodder defense, I will be absolutely 100% sober.

Cross my heart, y’all.

On the upside the old man didn’t hardly yell at me at all. He just said, “what would be tha point?” and asked when I was leaving for my holiday.

Could have been a lot worse, y’all.

The J-UNIT gonna be taking a little study trip, yo.

Military Intelligence says I can’t say where – CHUMP KOREA & AUSFALIA!!! – and I sure as shit can’t say when – NEXT WEEK, Y’ALL!!! – but it’s gonna happen, yo.

Officially it’s like those trips around the country that my gramps, Kim Il-Sung used to take. The Korean Central News Agency be reporting on them all the time. They in story books and shit. They mostly about how he fought tha Japs and healed some leppers and made blind people see. With weed, I guess. Major Choe said weed be good for that. That before Choe got sent away.

Unofficially, though, the old man thinks it would be good for me to just get away from the stress and media attention and shit. It’s pretty intense. I can’t walk down the street without bitches being all throwing themselves at me and shit. Everyone wanting my autograph and advice on how to increase industrial or agricultural production by they reaffirming commitment to tha guiding principles of Juche and Songun and shit.

I’m pretty fucking excited, yo.

But I’s also pretty fucking pissed off as well.

Check it, I spent most of tha day on the Korean Air site trying to book my flights. Air Koryo banned me for life last year after I be glassing that chump ass faggit pilot who be telling the stewardesses to be 86ing me on tha small wines.

Not that I’d fly with those chumps ever again anyway. Check it – have you seen the fucking huge number of points a nigga be needing on the Air Koryo frequent flyer program for even an upgrade to business? It fucking crazy, yo. Fuck that shit man.

Problem is Korean Air weren’t accepting my DPRK Central Bank issued visa card and they refused my Banco Delta Asia AmEx. Same with Asiana, yo – they be to Korean Air what South Korea is to Real Korea, yo. It’s fucking crazyass, maaaan! Is my laundered money no good to you punks? We all know how poor Pussy Ass Korea is, yo. We all know it just a disease-infested American chump colony, yo. So why they be rejecting my money?

So my options basically be (1) cancel my holiday or (2) bite tha muthafucking bullet and get tha train to Dandong and take Ryan Air. So obviously I wanna cancel, rite?

Problem is tha old man say, no way I can just hanging around Pyongyang all winter. He say I either take the trip or I go do something “productive” with my time like take a course at Pyongyang Community College. Learn to speak Chinese or how to speed type or something.

So Ryan Air it is. Worse than Koryo, yo, but I can’t wait to get on tha road.

P.s. Look out Massimiliano Gioni – I wasn’t kidding when I said I was gonna fuck you up, you punk ass poseur.

P.p.s. So wanna fuck tha Korea Air error message cartoon bitch. So fucking hot, maaaaaan.

So fucking hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot

J-Unit be pissed off tonight. Pissed off for real.

I be reading about Iran giving mad cash to the Afghans, yo. (oh and tha 4 STAR G be loving the Guardian, yo, Charlie Brooker my nigga – Nathan Barley be based on tha K to tha J to tha muthafucking U if that KJU be a Round Eyes, yo.)

This be the same Afghans that be conspiring with tha Saudis to be cheating us out of our weed and cash and stealing our nukes and be talking all shit to my girl Kim Kardashian and having her not be adding me on MySpace and shit, first of all.

Second of all, they ain’t even in tha club. They ain’t part of the Axis of Evil. They just some weed-growing bumpkins, yo.

Iran never gave me shit, yo. We be getting mad love from Cuba. China be loving on us too – when they ain’t confiscating the nukes we accidently be leaving in theys casinos. But we ain’t got shit from Iran.

So this my message, yo – gimme what I want or I’ll get it where I can.

We’s lonely up in this democratic peoples muthafucker, man.

Anyway, this my boy Ayatollah – he know where tha love at, not like that other Ayatollah that chump ass cheapskate.

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.

Life ain’t easy for the Brilliant Comrade, yo.

I got all kinds of stress on me, yo.

I’m close to tha edge; I’m trying not to lose my head.

And then the Chump Corea newspaper Chosun Ilbo goes and fucks shit up by reporting about the porn stash we got going up here in the North.

Give a nigga a break, yo. I’s living a very stressful life.

I mean, what if my old man finds my stash? Big Ass Ebony Hunniez Volume 48 ain’t exactly juche-orientated democratic-proletarian culture to uplift the masses, you know. It sure be uplifting Jong-Un Junior if you know what I mean.

So fuck you, Chosun Ilbo. Why can’t you stick to reporting about sensible shit that actually gonna matter to a nigga – like your story about tha “human torpedoes” that we be apparently developing to blow your shit up with.

I rang all the military chumps I know and they don’t know nothing about that shit. Some of them thought it was a good idea, though. Major Choe thinks that nigga in the photo looks a bit like his room mate from his first year at the Kim Il-Sung Military Academy, except that nigga got posted to a diplomatic mission in Pakistan. And you know what that means, right? Yeah, he growing weed.

 

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…