The Pessimist

Expecting the worst. Never disappointed.

Kim, Bro, we need to talk.

Dude, I know you're feeling a bit insecure, seeing as how your dad, the "Immortal" Kim Jong Il, up and died a couple of years ago. And it was only back in 1994 that your granddad, the "Immortal" Kim Il-Sung died, too. (Y'all keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means.) It surely isn't helping your already deflated self-esteem that the South Korean dork PSY took over the Youtube charts last year, launched a totally-idiotic new dance phenomenon AND managed to outdo even your (non)immortal Dad in the America bashing business with that stupid "Kill the Yankees' daughters, mothers, daughters-in-law and fathers / Kill them all slowly and painfully."


Even your wimptastic pop-nerd enemies talk better smack than you!

These days, Kim, it probably feel like everybody's kicking sand in your face and telling you you're a 90 lb. weakling (give or take 150). You are having what we in America like to call "A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day." And unfortunately, unless you're able to break your family's recent streak and actually BECOME immortal, you're looking at about 14,600 more. And that's only if you drop 100 lbs. and start taking care of yourself! Stick to your immortal dad's diet of Cognac, hos, and shark dongs, and dude, you're on the Mama Cass Train to Deadsville. And seriously, Kim, if you die at 32, choking on a Shark Dong Sandwich, you are NEVER going to hear the end of that from your Dad and Gramps in The Third Circle.


So naturally, with this endless procession of agita, you're lashing out again. Back in March you were talking heap big smack about your plans to launch a pre-emptive nuclear attack on your eternal enemy, the infernal United States of America! And just a fortnight ago, you topped it off with a good-old-fashion slice of Avunculicide!

Beyach, please! Nobody is taking this crap seriously. Not even your impoverished citizens, who WORSHIP YOUR IMMORTAL ASS, are buying these silly tough guy acts. You're like Michael Keaton in Mr. Mom deploying the Jack Butler Method, and just like him, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG.


Think about it. Think about all the times your Dad pulled these kinds of Little Big Man antics like threatening to blow up the United States, over and over again, crumbs of shark dong sandwich still on the edges of his drunk-ass mouth. We all know he did it for the same reason you're doing it. You feel sexually inadequate, and slaughtering uncles and talking about launching giant nuclear phallic symbols to rain destruction on your enemies is the North Korean Dictator's way of dealing with those feelings. We understand, Bro. It's called Peacocking. Over here in America, our males deal with those feelings by buying huge ass, gas-guzzling Bro-mobiles and hanging Bumpernuts on them.

But engaging in empty gestures of symbolic prowess and virility ARE NOT THE ANSWER! Kim, you need to put aside the poopie-diaper tantrums and MAN UP the old-fashioned way! It is time to put on your Big Boy Pants.

So how can you do that? Well, it's easier than you might think. And it starts by reading this:

5 Simple Brotastic Steps to Manhood


The first step to dealing with this is admitting that you have a problem. Fortunately for you, you're not the only world leader (har!) who likes to Peacock. Form a support group of similarly-insecure males who engage is empty symbolic rituals to enhance their perceived potency. Nicolas Sarkozy, Vladimir Putin and former Iranian Prime Minister Mahmoud Ahmahdinasomething all suffer from the same deflated-ego issues that you do and love to preen and posture in ludicrous ways to convince their ladies of the world of their virility. So invite them to join your private enclave of overcompensators, so you can share your feelings of inadequacy over shark-dong paté. They'll understand, have your back, and you'll all be strengthened by the experience!




Did you really fall for that? Dude, you're in worse shape than I thought! And that's saying something, since your shape could be charitably described as "rubenesque, with a side of gelatinous." Support groups are for sissyboys! If you're going to MAN UP, which you MUST, you're going to have to DO IT ALONE. HAMILTON NOLAN STYLE.


In THE MAN ZONE. So let's go there. For real this time!



Dude, it starts here. You're NEVER going to be taken seriously by World Leaders if you're shaped like Mr. Lundt from VeggieTales. Even sissyboy Frenchies who wear lifts and stand on their tippie-toes when being photographed with their smoking-hot trophy wives are going to be like, "Mec, tu es une mauviette grands ole!" ("Dude, you're a big ole wuss!")

And think of posterity. On the off-chance that you DO prove to be as mortal as your dad and grandpa, do you really want your own personal Ozymandius-tribute – the statue which encourages your eternal worship from North Korean citizens – to be a gigantic, bell-shaped monstrosity with your head stuck on top? It's not going to inspire devotion- only cruel nicknames like, "Kim Jong Bell" or "The Big Ding Dong"?


The answer is no.


Look, I don't care if it's Crossfit, P90x, or Jane Fonda Workout VHS tapes (y'all have VHS now, right?), you NEED to get in shape. And by shape, I don't mean Roundagon. You've mastered the Roundagon. Now its time to move to the Triangle. Wide lats, narrow waist, cutting the V-Shaped torso that makes the ladies get all googie-eyed and start playing with their hair.

Did you know they actually do that if they think you're hot? And you don't have to TELL them, "I am your eternal leader, so, uh, twirl your hair on your finger and point your knees towards me suggestively. Oh, and hand me that shark dong, will you?"



Listen, Kim, it's not all bad. You've got a GREAT head of hair! But let's be honest, now is not the time for that particular haircut, unless you're planning to audition for a Korean Depeche Mode cover band, which I don't recommend, because it's going to sound all weird when you go, "터치 신앙을 다가"! (Plus, as impossible as it may sound to believe, it would make you seem EVEN LESS MANLY THAN YOU ALREADY ARE.) I know it may have been confusing, growing up with an immortal (now dead) Father who sported the full Liberace-do without a trace of irony. But he didn't know any better. You do (now!).


You need a manly, stylish cut. Right now- you look more like a militant feminist, which, despite being militant, is NOT manly, because you know, it's FEMINIST. Go for the Donald Draper look- it's classic, elegant, and manly without being overcompensatory like a spiky flat-top. The ladies will melt at your feet, without you first having to apply napalm or whatever it is you dictators do.




Dude, if you actually had some hangout Bros around you, they'd tell you this to your face. YOU HAVE A GIRL'S NAME. "Kim" is not a gender-neutral name, no matter what some sycophantic concubine told you over cognac and shark-dong-in-a-blanket one breezy summer afternoon. You might as well run around calling yourself "Lady Mary, Countess of Tampax."


Yes, I know it's technically your last name, but come on. It's still hella-girly! If my full name was Lorenzo "Bad Boy" Von Cuddlepanties, do you think my Bros would let me coast because my first name was ÜltraBoss, and my nickname practically glistened with steely mansweat? NO THEY WOULD NOT. (And dude, "Un"? That's not a man name either! That's the world's weeeeeee tiniest prefix of negation. IT'S NOT HELPING.)

I don't care if "Kim" runs in your family. So do god complexes, syphilis, and (I hate to keep harping on this but) MORTALITY. Drop the "Kim"- and change your legal name to something BOSS. Like "Cutler Van Bolt", "Jake Brick, Esquire" or if you're feeling especially rugged, "Nick Denton". You want a name that doesn't immediately make other world leaders (har!) snicker behind your back. You want a name that doesn't make the ladies you're subconsciously trying to impress with all these Little Big Man antics want to immediately commiserate with you about cramping problems or their dumpling-shaped-dictator-boyfriend-with-a-girl's-name-who-eats-shark-dong-like-they're-going-out-of-style.

I'm sorry- but somebody had to say it, Bro!

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