I was relieved almost (though not quite) beyond words when The Boy Blunder, Kim Jong Un, was sighted earlier in the week doing whatever North Korean dictator types do (protecting the proletariat, safeguarding the means of production, exposing revisionist defeatists). All this time I thought Un was the loneliest number. Live and learn, not that they do much of either north of the 38th Parallel.
He’s a lot stockier than Waldo, though to compensate for that visual disadvantage I’d point out he dresses exactly like everyone else which can’t make the NSA spymasters happy when they’re doing bed checks. (Why is another matter entirely).
With so many folks on every side of The Great Divide watching him how’s the Pudgy One ever supposed to get some "me time" to kick back, maybe shoot a few hoops before Rodman’s next visit, learn to ballroom dance, or perfect a recipe that puts the ash in goulash or make rock soup that serves sixty.
Whatever effort was made to find him, you needn’t have bothered at all on my account. Where ever he was is just fine with me. And I can’t claim to feel reassured by the look on his face in the imagery I’ve seen. Last time I caught that facial expression somebody in the circus was chasing a headless chicken while spitting feathers. You’d wanna watch out for that dangerous smile.