We roast hot dogs and marshmallows over a fire, and Kim (we call him Kim but you'd better call him the 'Excellent and Revered Leader' or your family will spend Christmas in a Prison Camp (that's a Bing Crosby song, by the way)) whipped out his guitar and treated us to Bob Dylan classics.
Here, we played hangman using real people. Kim Jong-un didn't allow photographs to be taken, and besides, he had our photographer killed, so pardon the juvenile drawing. We'll do much better on the next post. Kim Jong-un then had our juvenile killed and his drawing replaced with the one below.
Here is a satellite view of our campsite. After being led into a field at gunpoint (a bayonet attached to a rifle, actually) and forced to dig for fourteen hours straight, we returned to our rooms. Below is an artist's rendering of our accommodations. We used an artist from India and the drawing only cost us $1.49.
The artist was later tracked down and killed. Overall, this was the worst time we've had on Camping With a Dictator. The food was terrible. We've had much better bread and water. The rooms were badly appointed and the constant surveillance by our guides was a big turn-off. And there was nothing to watch on state run TV, just old Dukes of Hazzard episodes.
I camped there for a weekend with Dennis Rodman. The room service was so-so.
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