Dennis Rodman has found a “friend for life” in North Korea’s squatty little tyrant, Kim Jong-un.
We should be happy for Rodman. Everyone needs a bosom buddy. In Rodman’s case, when you’ve driven off your friends at home, when you’ve been shunned by society for displaying your sheer awfulness in a reality TV show about your addictions, when your former career is just a tiny blister on the big toe of sports history, it’s time to cast a wider net in search for a friend.
Does it matter that the friend you chose sent an ex-girlfriend and her friends to a firing squad for “pornographic” dancing?
Does it matter that your new BFF has killed or imprisoned and starved to death more than 20,000 prisoners in North Korea’s jails?
If it does, then you’re just nitpicking, or you’ve got only a couple of friends and you can’t spare a single one of them. Or, you’ve worn out your welcome within the 3.794 million square miles of your home country.
Well, of course it doesn’t matter. Because, like the serial murderer or the psychotic pedophile, Kim really is, underneath it all, such a nice guy. He’s just misunderstood.
This is “basketball diplomacy” in Rodman’s words. And back at ya’ – because Kim wants his BFF to go back to the U.S. and tell us all how wonderful North Korea is. Apparently, it’s a veritable paradise of freedom, civil rights and social good! Let’s all go!
Yeah, if I had a friend whose BFF was Hitler or Stalin or Mussolini, I’d invite that friend to all my social events in hopes that his BFF could be included among the dinner guests. Can you picture the place card, adorned with pretty flowers, sitting next to the dinner plate: “Kim Jong-un”? Oh, dear, whom should I select to sit next to Kim! Etiquette dilemma! Martha Stewart, help me out here!
I could be wrong about all of this. What if, really—consider this—what if Rodman actually intended to BFF the South Korean singing sensation, Psy, but made an error of geography? It’s possible. After all, the word “Korea” is in both country names.
Anyway, with friends like Kim, who needs enemies? Or for that matter, who needs a heart and a conscience?
We’re known by the company we keep. Some of us don’t care about that. Some of us are idiots who crave attention even if it comes in the form of the company of a murderous little monster.