THE OBJECTIVE
Laura Calonge

Pee-Pee-Kim

Still affected, as are a great part of Europeans, by the wave of terrorist violence that threatens to establish in old Europe, I have decided not to put more words to the horror taken place in Paris. In search of kinder news, I meet again with him: this smiling, well-fed man who takes pictures in Technicolor, and is none only but Kim Jong-un.

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Pee-Pee-Kim

Still affected, as are a great part of Europeans, by the wave of terrorist violence that threatens to establish in old Europe, I have decided not to put more words to the horror taken place in Paris. In search of kinder news, I meet again with him: this smiling, well-fed man who takes pictures in Technicolor, and is none only but Kim Jong-un.

Still affected, as are a great part of Europeans, by the wave of terrorist violence that threatens to establish in old Europe, I have decided not to put more words to the horror taken place in Paris. In search of kinder news, I meet again with him: this smiling, well-fed man who takes pictures in Technicolor, and is none only but Kim Jong-un.

Seeing him like that, surrounded by bags of potatoes?, prawn crackers?, barbecue-flavor cockroaches? with so much color, classic of his promotional photos, one almost forgets he is a dictator. If Andy Warhol took a look, I should say, if Andy Warhol lived, he’d choose to immortalize Kim Jong-un surrounded by bags of Korean snacks, an art piece that would be a middle way between Campbell’s Soup Cans and the colorful serigraphs of Communist leader Mao Tse-Tung. Its not hard to believe that Kim Jong would be a great source of inspiration for the pop-art genius.

Suddenly, among the threats facing us in the West, the sorrows that are happening in Arab countries, in Africa, in Indonesia, the stories that come from North Korea, a country that “marches to its own beat”, an armored communist dictatorship that isolates them from the world, these stories emerge draped by a strange, almost childish surrealism. This smiling man who with a steady hand executes his uncle, his former girlfriend and North Korean Defense Minister that fell asleep in an official act, has such extravagant initiatives as the stars of showbiz. We have come to know that he always travels with a bathroom car, an invention that if sold for the use and enjoyment of the rest of humanity, should be called “Pee-Pee-Kim”. He already has his own TV channel, his biography is a compulsory subject in secondary school, so he could not go without his own WC, and it couldn’t be otherwise. It is very unpleasant to share the loo with others, an eschatological communist act that displeases anyone. Why lie to each other? It isn’t the same to share the seat of a limousine than that of a toilet.

And again I think about what we really know of what happens in North Korea. Nothing is known, little has transcended about its nuclear program, while the international community has doubts that it may be building a nuclear bomb “more powerful than Hiroshima,” as they have warned themselves. We only hear of their leader’s eccentricities; his Technicolor smile, a studied smokescreen.

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