Das Boot, Jr.

You couldn’t even laugh later with your buddies, if you had any you could trust, which you don’t. Didn’t. News reports of Saddam Hussein’s meetings always showed his top generals clutching notebooks, standing when the great leader entered the room, paying close attention, and earnestly jotting down his words. Once when Saddam’s two brutal sons were at the meeting, a son noticed a general listening too closely and not writing. “Take notes,” ordered the son, and the general started writing furiously. 

Just so now under the ugly fat boy with the bad haircut. Generals walking around with Junior, never without the little notebook, jotting down his morsels of brilliance. Most ludicrous, at least to me as a naval officer, the report this week of the puffed up toad proudly inspecting his imposing submarine force, 1950s Romeo class diesel electric Unterseeboot. 

With the admirals paying close attention and writing in their notebooks as the great one solemnly oozes wisdom on navigation and submarine warfare. Want to keep your head? Take notes. No doodles or happy faces either. What a schlemiel. There’s good news and bad news. First the good news: he’s returned to Pyongyang. Now the bad news: you have to run hide in your closet for laughing hysterics because there sure as aitch won’t be no snickering while comparing notes during happy hour at the O’Club.

Anchors aweigh.

T