Liberal Arts Seminar 2018

Progymnasmata 5
Vituperation of Kim Jong Un

Rulers come and go, some being graceful and benevolent, others being cruel and despicable. But never has the world seen a more despicable tyrant than His Excellency Kim Jong Un. While some rulers choose to legitimize their rule through grace, others see it fit to brutalize and terrorize their subjects into submission. Yet Kim Jong Un does worse than terrorize; he starves, imprisons, and brainwashes the simple minds of his people, creating a rule so concrete that not even all of the four winds, blowing their mightiest, could hope to shake it. His vileness and inhumanity demands the following vituperation, which, by God, may deter great rulers from following in the tainted footsteps of Kim Jong Un.
Born a young son of the great Kim Dynasty, power was in Un’s very identity. For his stock was that of the ruling family of North Korea, and none could even hope to topple their domination on the country. For generations his tainted line of ancestors had served as the prison masters of North Korea, with lock and key so tight that the benevolence of the Western world had no chance of saving the nation from its masters. Yet the abuse North Korea had suffered under the Kim dynasty would soon be dwarfed when the vile whelp was conceived of the ill-fated loins of Kim Jong Il and his wench of a wife Ko Yong Hui.
Un experienced the best his country had to offer, becoming educated at the best university in Korea. His father groomed him and his wretched brothers for the politics of tyranny, instilling the ideals of oppression and terror that had served the family for generations in its iron-fisted rule. Almost religiously was Un taught the ways of ruling, ensuring he would be a competent successor to his ailing father. The arts of calligraphy and music were also instilled in Un’s vile mind, though for what aim I know not, for what use are the gentle arts in a land of famine and terror? He became legally adept as well, learning the snakish tongue that all politicians speak in, bracing him for the law-making role he would inherit. Though gentle laws are but decorative in any state under the rule of tyrants like those of the Kim Dynasty.
We come now to the ill-fated hour when Kim Jong Il joined his ancestors in the darkest pits of hell, upon which Un ascended to the throne of power. While the people had faced famine for decades, nothing compared to the voracity of Un’s appetite. Food became truly scarce, with all crops finding their way to the palace, and Un’s disgustingly large stomach. Yes, the lifestyle of a tyrant permits the luxurious sin of gluttony, and Un embraced such sin with vigor, becoming the fattest and most vile of Kims ever seen. No physical exercise did Un ever see but for the exercise of his mouth, which when not masticating, was barking harshly into the propaganda forced down his subjects throats in lieu of food or drink. What money the people possessed was robbed of them for the absurd development of nuclear weapons, a truly pathetic attempt to rival the glory and military prowess of the Western world. What goes on in that evil little mind no one can truly say, but needless to say, those who find themselves in disagreement with it are no more. For Un rips families apart, imprisoning men, women and children, all of whom are forced to labor camps, where they are violated to extremes, before finally perishing namelessly and soundlessly. Nothing of these torments would Un know, having been pampered and treated softly since his tainted birth. His supreme will permeates the minds of his ministers and advisors, making them voiceless puppets, with he the puppet master. Truly, none can stand against the unstoppable wave that is the Kim dynasty.
The cruelty of Un matches only those of history’s most vile dictators; his deeds rival those of Hitler and Mussolini, whose despicable mastery of terror rendered them powerful at the expense of millions of lives lost. For just as Hitler utilized the persecution and extermination of the Jews, Un has turned his system of prison camps and torture centers into a machine of equal horror and despair.
Thus, my dearest readers, we must remain chaste in our politics and beliefs. We must stray as far away from this filth as possible, and instead retain the freedom and agency granted to us in our beloved Western civilization. For North Korea we can only pray that such terrors will end, cleansing the poor state of the innumerable wrongs it has been dealt at the vile hands of the Kims. Be thankful for our most gracious and benevolent society! For we never have nor will face the brutalization that the North Koreans face. Enjoy your next meal! Savor the feeling of food within your belly! Be loving to your family, and rejoice in the knowledge that they are all alive and well! May God continue to look favorably upon us all. Amen.

Encomium of Kim Jong Un

When the war for the motherland concluded, God saw it fit to divide her, granting half to the Western dogs, and half to the chosen people of the north. Yet while our brothers and sisters starve under the capitalist enslavement of the West, we have prospered under the Never-Setting Sun that is the Great Leader, Kim Jong Un. His reign is both graceful and divine, and we are truly blessed to be given a ruler such as he.
Most beautiful and adored son of the regal Kim Jong Il, and grandson of the Great Father, Kim Il Sung, Un is the messiah sent to us by God through the Kim dynasty. Never did North Korea see such as blessed ruler as Un, whose lineage is both pure and sacred amongst our most humble and pious people. Oh, would his father, Kim Jong Il (may his soul rest forever in the warm embrace of God) be proud to see the mighty accomplishment of his favored son!
For it is as if God himself raised Un through the gentle and caring hands of his father. He groomed him impeccably for the demands of office, and we are eternally thankful for his Excellency’s unmatched education at the Pyongyang University, where our best scholars, artists and craftsmen are made. His gentle hand flows through calligraphy as smoothly as his mouth practices oration, and we rejoice when his sweet voice greets us morning, noon, and night. Truly, no fairer laws exist than those of Un, whose benevolence allows for us to work hard, but celebrate the glory of the Worker’s Revolution and our universal empowerment. Such a beautiful thing the westerners will never know, for they are but the mindless slaves of the corrupt capitalist pigs who rule over them with a ruthless and iron fist.
Oh if they could possess a leader as gracious and beautiful as Un! It is as if the Sun in all her glory that shone on his round face as a babe never set, bathing the Great Leader in an eternal light. For never did noble Korea see a more healthy being, whose body and mind are both so equally perfect that even God himself stops and admires him. When Un speaks, the planets and the winds hold still, all turning their ears to the divine diction of Un. Under his mighty arms, swollen with the strength of his fathers, we are protected from the diseased West, for with but a wave of his hand, the fires of God will rain down upon the capitalist dogs. Our families sleep safely under his watch, and for his immense blessing we are all thankful, for through Un, God looks favorably on us. Oh quick witted scholar! No matter the words of hate and deceit the capitalists rain on us, Un’s mind sharpens the most potent of words and penetrates the tainted veil of lies they weave. Never did God Himself behold such honesty nor virtue in a man, whose wealth we all spend, whose food we all eat, and whose wine we all drink. For is this not the divine purity of a true Worker’s Paradise?
A comparison of Un to anyone other than his great grandfather, the founder of our Worker’s Paradise, would be a most disgraceful insult. For while Kim Il Sung (may his soul forever dwell in the sanctity of the heavens) created our perfect world, Un has ensured this world remains safe and intact. For no more than ever are the Westerners and their vile lies attempting to infiltrate our utopia, with the intention of tearing down all we have worked for. But fear not! For under the reign of the most gracious Un we are safe, and as his grandfather led us to victory against the capitalist empires once, so will Un lead us to glory once more when war for the final reckoning inevitably arrives. It is as if Sung himself lives and breathes in Un’s body, for the Great Leader lives on through all of his kin and their deeds.
So, my dear Koreans, let us give thanks to God and to the Great Leader for our immense fortune. Let our Worker’s Paradise remain strong as a symbol for all proletariats across the world to envy and seek for themselves. Let no capitalist filth dare desecrate the nobility and purity of our Dear Leader. For our victory in the first war was a sign from God that we are His chosen people, and we must live up to this expectation. Live and love the glorious Kim Jong Un, and you like him and his fathers, shall find the eternal light in heaven.

“The problem with the gene pool is there’s no lifeguard.”

Blessed, be the man who in a moment of such divine insight did quote this succinct yet profound seed of knowledge. For he does state that the flaw with humanity’s genetic composition is truly the lack of restriction, oversight, and control. After all, who are we to spawn without thought or care given to the mindless progeny with which we infest God’s good earth? Did God not craft this world for us to treat with care and tender affection, and not to clutter with squirming, starving, squealing whelps, a majority of whom cannot be cared for in the ways of accordance with the Holy Laws? Truth, the unknown author of this phrase most wise did see this tragedy and in his most God-given clarity, devised a simple explanation for the corruption of mankind. A man of this wisdom can only speak from worldly experience, and as such, does have a most contemptible and pathetic family, should the blessed term for a holy unit even be extended thus far. For does he not live in a ramshackle hut, caked in filth, dingy and dank, with the only light streaming in through the rat-chewed holes? Do his whelps not scurry around like animals, dirty and wild, starving and sick? Does his wife not long for the pangs of childbirth to end, but for the sinful lust of the loins? When man does become of aware of this state, he will without a doubt, call into question his role as father, and the utter decay of what was once termed a family, God bless his soul. I once knew a man who, with his one and only wife, bore only two children, two sons, both of whom were as strong as ox and wise as owls. Their home was neat and prosperous, and the lads both worked and studied. Oh but were there a steward of the loins which could put such wisdom in all men. For alas, such good people can no longer be found nowadays, nor in the region which I now inhabit. A new friend of mine, in this new region, confessed to me one day that his children, unlike the youth of old, were both stupid and naive, so dumb were they, did he claim, that their minds may have simply flown away like birds when the seasons change. In fact, he did boast, one of his elder sons, when helping the mother prepare dinner, found it to be within his pitiful reasoning to play ball with one of his brothers using the knife he was using to peel potatoes. Let us just say that my friend now has one less waif crowding his hovel (though I am sure with how his loins think for themselves, there will no doubt be two or three more replace it). Truth, unbridled reproduction is man’s way of soiling one of God’s most wondrous gifts, for we have seen that with restraint, there comes reward in our progeny, but with lust and unchecked satisfaction, naught but ill will follow. Therefore, my brothers and kin, be wise; listen not to thou loins, but force thou loins to listen to thee, and God will indeed look favorably on thou family. For with no sentinel to stymie our seed, we must ourselves, be rational and wise.

It was when Adam and Eve first realized their shame and donned the leaves of Eden that I was incepted.  Yet from that day forth, man would not only don garments to conceal his shame, but to impress and please both the eye and soul.  First there were skins, but furs and fabric would soon follow. I exerted my influence tirelessly, rewarding man for his efforts to be beautiful, while punishing those who cared not for their garments.  In the early tribes, those who donned the spots of the leopard or the mane of the lion I rewarded with status, fame, and respect, for what is more admirable than the feat required to slay such fierce creatures, whose furs God made incomparably beautiful?  Next came what man called clothes; the rags of peasants and the robes of kings pleased me in all respects. Yet I naturally approved of the deep purples and luscious blues of nobility, and wove their fortunes to be prosperous, while to the common serfs I assigned the tasks of weaving the beautiful garments for their betters.  Color, beauty and flair course through me like blood through man; those who failed to grasp such ideals suffered for their ignorance. Where man sees only mere clothing, I see art, florid and eloquent, infinite in possibility, limitless in design. Yet the Almighty God continued to mold man’s fate on a larger scale, and soon the nobles whose beauty I admired and rewarded fell to their inferiors.  Nevertheless, I prevailed in my efforts to beautify mankind beyond the flesh. For women, I crafted regal gowns so intricate and ornate in nature that suitors were captivated. For man I gave breeches, coats, with finery of gold and silver. What better canvas to portray the soul than the literal canvas with which one covers their sinful flesh? As mankind bred, reaching all corners of God’s earth, I followed, pouring inspiration into the incessantly evolving entity that became fashion.  The great houses of Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Givenchy, Burberry, and Versace all rose by my gentle hand. By now, the nobles I once favored were all but extinct; a new caste of men had grown from their ashes, a hybrid of the old and the new. Diversity in this new world propagated unlike anything I had ever seen, for man had revealed forms of beauty I had never seen; they had become independent, seeking new arts without need of my divine intervention. And now, dear God, I see my purpose fulfilled.  I have given man the tools with which to seek beauty in all her forms, and after thousands of years, he has grasped this noble aim, rendering my existence superfluous. I honor you, God almighty, and entrust to you the fate of the divine union between man and my namesake, Fashion. Farewell.

Fresh in my mind are the words of the humble fisherman, simple man of Cyrene whose honest toils on land and sea are matched only by his knowledge and piety.  For when confronted with the sorrow and misfortune of Apollonius, king of Tyre, who then found himself so low and wretched, this mundane mariner brought forth the idea of Fortune and her fickle whims, for “Men who their lives with ventures fill must take good fortune and take ill”.  No better words could I have found to describe the ways of luck and misfortune, as those that the fisherman uttered. For reconciliation, but more importantly, for prudence and forewarning did he speak thus to Apollonius, whose mind did change, and whose will did stiffen, as time grew on.  In truth no wiser words could be spoken by a king or scholar, than those that the man of the sea did utter. Indeed his words have resonated within my soul, as Fortune has both given and taken from me, her lust for playing with the lives of men being never satisfied. In truth, once before, during a harvest in the land of Tyre, a neighbor of mine did a generous crop reap, only to lose his oldest son to the sea.  Grieved, he came before me and lamented on his apparent woe, and while consoling, I quoted thus the words of our timeless fisherman. “Dear friend, you have seen in months past, both faces of Fortune fickle, her benevolence can be seductive, as her wrath and vengeance are both destructive. In part consoled, he wept no more, but rather resigned himself to the fact that no man rich or poor could ever hope to best Fortune at her own sport.  And yet I do remember still, a time when another companion of mine did attempt this foolish feat; for he tried to defy Fortune with contempt. Having faced a poor harvest one season, my friend, angered sought vengeance on Fortune and did plant and sow a new plot, despite the season’s close being nigh. Despite our gravest warnings that to do so would undermine the great Divine, he persisted, with each new planting, less and less did he reap, until finally his stores of seed were gone.  Fortune, clearly angered at his impertinence to her whim, did punish him and his house further, by taking his wife and son by starvation. Truth, always will the fisherman’s words hold, be it a king or serf whom Fortune toys with; Her cruel amusement is never appeased. Surely, our honest fisherman has lived in such acquiescence to Fortune’s whim, that he has rarely suffered her wrath, and if he has, he did, no doubt, accept such misfortune with ease and modesty, moving forward rather than dwelling back.  Therein, do I see, is the gem of this man’s wisdom, for man, being not divine, cannot manipulate the strands of time. Should misfortune be suffered at the present, he has no choice but to live on, and perhaps better himself for the future, no doubt a noble and fulfilling seed of truth. For one so humble, with life so mean, his sagacious catch no doubt shall feed the minds of men far and wide.

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