I’m Glad You're Dead; You Sorry Little Bastard

Kim Jong-Il died yesterday and I am good with that.  I wish the little bastard had died many years ago.  I was in South Korea when his Father Kim Il-Sung headed off to Hell.  It’s a funny story. 

I had left Seoul early that morning headed down to Chinhae in the South.  I had been listening to cassette tapes the entire way as I don’t speak or understand Korean so radio was out.  As I pulled into the town of Chinhae I went into a gas station to refuel and was greeted by the happiest Korean I had ever seen.  I thought that he was happy to see that big American (Mi-guk) car pull in for gas.  He was jumping up and down jabbering in Korean.  I tried to explain that I didn’t understand him – but he just got more animated.  The only Korean I knew (Sang mekju too-se yo) would get me a draft beer in Seoul, but wasn’t going to help in this situation. 

I was trying to get some damn gas, but my new ecstatic friend grabbed my arm and was trying to pull me into his station.  I dutifully followed.  I think (I’ll never know for sure) that he wanted me to hear the radio.  Of course the announcer was speaking - Korean – I’m not sure why Mr. Gas Station thought that would help.  What did get my attention though was that Mrs. Gas Station was sitting in front of a deep sink. 

I must digress.  I had been in Korea at this point for nearly a year.  I was scrupulously careful to drink water only from a bottle in Korea.  I had endured a bout or two with Kim Il Sung’s revenge, but had generally enjoyed good health even though I often ate and drank on the economy.  So imagine my surprise to see Mrs. Gas Station perched on a stool in front of the deep sink next to a mountain of empty water bottles which she was cycling under the tap and then affixing a tamper-proof cap.  (Note to International travelers:  Don’t trust the cap) 

Anyway, still clueless as to why everyone but me was happy, I paid for my gas and extracted myself.  With a fill-up I could get either a roll of paper towels or a bottle of water – I took the towels. 

When I got to the base at Chinhae security was tighter than I had remembered even though everyone seemed very happy.  When I got to my ultimate destination I was told that the Great Leader Kim Il Sung was dead.  I’m pretty sure that was what Mr. Gas Station was trying to convey to me. 

Kim Jong-Il – now that you are finally at room temperature yourself, good riddance.  I for one am glad you are dead.  Say “Hi” to your Dad for me you little communist prick.  Imagine a world without Communists - how wonderful would that be?