No place like Pyongyang for the holidays

Christmas is almost here, which accounts for the snow you see swirling across my moribund web site. By the way: Sorry I’ve once again let weeks go by without posting anything. But the tragic death of North Korea’s Kim Jong Il has made me realize that it’s not always all about me.

You see these pictures of people weeping on North Korea’s state news media and your heart just goes out to them. All those years of eating grass and kicking back in labor camps, and then the guy who made it all possible just croaks. Right during the holidays! First Amy Winehouse and now this. It’s just a hell of a blow.

Fortunately, another fat-faced ferret has stepped forward to steer the ship of state, so things will surely get back to normal by Valentine’s Day. I just hope he shares Kim Jong-Il’s love of bad movies. But in the meantime, let’s lift a glass of egg-nog to the grieving folks in Pyongyang. Merry Christmas, you guys!

Speaking of Christmas, the home tour went OK. We got about 500 people over the two nights. They shuffled through in an orderly fashion and were mostly friendly, except for one young turk who refused to follow our established route and then left a beer bottle in the planter outside. I’ll get you, you little bastard. To everybody else: Thanks for keeping your sarcastic remarks on the down-low! And come back for the tour next year, when it will be at somebody else’s place.

I didn’t realize how much angst the home tour had caused until it was over. The next morning I awoke to find the sense of impending doom had completely dissipated, and the rest of our Christmas preparations now seemed negligible. The kids start arriving this week. They’ll find a house that is now somewhat past its Yuletide prime, but still sort of festive. Some of the poinsettias have become sullen, but all the holiday lights are still working. And we’ll have more food and drink than you can shake a stick at.