Korea, Iran, Bulger, Oh My...

Goddam it.

For some godforsaken reason, my browser decided to jump to another page, destroying at least a half an hour of midnight ramblings about the state of the world. With links galore, no less. Well, screw it. I'm tired. I'm grumpy. The world's going to hell in a handbasket. Film at 11.

Okay, quickly: because you don't need to a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, you just need a browser, a passel of links, and a curious mind.

Maybe because we live in such an instant age we're knowing more than we ever did, but, Christ, this little green gem of rock, water, and various carbon-based life certainly seems poised for one big clusterf*ck, don't it? Or, actually, a bunch of medium sized ones.

North Korea, the socialist workers paradise, is in the midst of an eight-year famine. Couple of delightful consequences: according to a UNICEF study in 1998, North Koreans seven year olds are, on average, eight inches shorter than their South Korean peers. And a new delicacy is popping up more often in North Korean markets: special meat. Here's another story about it. Motherdear is probably gloating right now, as she's a vegetarian. But, hey, who knows, maybe these industrious Koreans are on to something. "People, the other white meat". Too bad Robert Mitchem's still dead, I can almost hear him doing the commercial voice over.

PJ O'Rourke once wrote "Man developed in Africa. He has not continued to do so there." Horrible stories of cannibalism are coming out of the Congolese Civil War. The Guardian had this story in January about pygmies being eaten by rebel troops. Other news outlets have these atrocities being practiced by both sides. The UN has ridden in to save the day, sending unarmed observers who don't speak the language. And then letting them get slaughtered. Of yeah, Kofi and his Anamaniacs really would've had Saddam on his knees with just a few more months.

In happier news, it looks like something is getting ready to happen in Iran. Iran has a huge cohort of twenty-somethings. They are a product of a repopulation program undertaken during the devastating Iran-Iraq war. These kids have no love lost for the Mullahs, and are starting to get pissed off at being told what to do. Their college professors are getting in on the act and protests are popping up across the country. Now, as a particularly snarky friend of mine said to me today (unless it was on Instapundit, if so, sorry to Blog Master Glen), "so, you're saying it's like USA, circa 1968?". Well, except, wasted youth and hippified college professors during the summer of love and the Cambodian Moratorium had middle class lives and concerns to get back to. These kids in Iran got nothing. And when you ain't got nothing, you've got nothing to lose. It will take some time, these are secular kids missing the "will of God" fire that toppled the Shah in '79, but it'll happen. That'll be tic-tac-toe, three in a row: Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan.

Some predictions (all guaranteed to be wrong, but if they aren't: remember you heard it here first).

1. North Korea will implode within a year. If the drought/flood cycle persists, and Kim who-ever continues his Dr. No ways, he'll have his head on the end of a pike (supplied by the North Korean army) by next June. One Caveat: the army is the only thing Kim is paying any attention to, and to whom he is diverting what little food he has. Maybe they're too loyal. But, man, it looks like that breaking point is close, doesn't it?

2. UMASS President William Bulger will disclose in testimony to the House Government Reform Committee tomorrow that his brother James "Whitey" Bulger actually passed away of natural causes a couple of years ago, and is buried in Ireland, or maybe even Southie. Just a funny feeling. Completely unfounded. I just think that this saga demands some sort of poetic ending like that - that's the denoumount of the "Lawmakers and Lawbreakers, The James and William Bulger Story" telefilm, brought to you by AC Delco, on the SuperStation: President Bulger emotionally tells the House Committee about his brother's secret funeral in a small cemetery in Killarny on a misting April morning. The final scene, naturally, features an umbrellaed drink being brought on a tray to a man lounging in a chaise facing a setting sun on some Carribean Island. "Your drink, Mr. Baxter..."

3. The Red Sox will win the pennant.

4. And monkeys will fly out of my butt......

G'Night.