Outlawing Sarcasm

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Even Korea, it seems, has their Yankees.

All I got to say is you can tell that Kim Jong-un isn’t from SOUTH Korea.

Kim Jong-un is more of a Maine or Vermont type of Yankee. You know the type: That person who prides themselves on their ability to put on a flannel shirt and Carhartts over a  pair of thermals and brave the sub-zero temps of winter. The kind of person who eats tree bark for roughage and picks the bones of a squirrel for protein. The kind of person whose belief in God is all about retribution and revenge, if they believe in God at all (I can understand how living through a North Korean winter might make a person abandon the idea of God altogether)

You’d think starving people while watching them do jumping-jacks until they pass out would fill Kim Jong-un with pleasure enough for a disturbed dictator. But it seems that Kim’s desire for misery goes beyond anything Stephen King could ever imagine.

Kim Jong-un has issued a new policy in North Korea.

No More Sarcasm. (Repeat that ten times while jumping on the bed).

That’s right.

Kim Jong-un has outlawed sarcasm.

What’s next? Metaphors? Juxtapositions? Oxymorons?

My Southern friends will appreciate the severity of this punishment way better than my more stoic Maine and Vermont friends.

Attempting to outlaw sarcasm would undoubtedly get a Sheriff in Georgia or Alabama shot (but not before some Bubba cut out his tongue and mailed it to his mama).

Telling a Southerner they can’t be sarcastic anymore would be like telling Donald Trump he’s forbidden from speaking before crowds of white people.

It’s simply unimaginable.

Anyone born and raised in the South spends the first twelve years of their lives honing the craft of smart-assery. By the time any child, girl or boy, reaches 9th grade, they will be striding headlong into the waters of sarcasm. Of course, none of us will be true masters of smart-assery until we are old enough to sit on a bench in a public square making snide remarks to all who pass.

 

“I heard tell when Donald Trump was born, he was so ugly the doctor slapped his mama, and that bitch turned around and bit him on the leg.”

“Yeah, well I heard Anthony Weiner’s last name isn’t really Weiner. That’s just his porn name. His real name is Anthony Littlejohn.”

Suffice it to say, Rick Bragg will never do a book signing in North Korea.

Those poor Yankee Koreans are forbidden from blaming all their problems on the US, as well. Their fearful leader has decreed that no longer can a North Korean say in passing “Blame it on the Americans.”

Guess, Kim Jong-un thought his people were mocking him whenever they blamed Americans for the lack of modern-day conveniences in their country. You know, all those conveniences we Americans take for granted but North Koreans hanker for daily – big bowls of gummy rice and week-old baguettes.

Of course, after this election is over with, we might end up with a leader not unlike Kim Jong-un. I can just imagine that the first thing Donald Trump might do in office is forbid Americans from ever again mentioning the small size of his hands. He’ll probably have the artist who created the Naked Trump beat to death. Women will be forced to undergo breast enhancements. And fat people will be forbidden from being out in public before dark.

But then, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s just my craft getting away from me.

If she were alive, Katharine Hepburn might advise Jong-Un: “If you follow all the rules, you’ll never have any fun.”

But then again, Kim Jong-un would have likely had Katharine Hepburn gagged and executed before he’d ever consider taking advice from a Yankee woman wearing slacks.

Karen Spears Zacharias is author of BURDY (Mercer) and the Queen Bey of smart-assery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Karen Spears Zacharias

Author/Journalist/Educator. Gold Star Daughter.

1 Comment

Kaye Killgore

about 5 years ago

Well said

Reply

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