I am terribly distressed by reported stroke suffered by Kim Jong Il. The dear leader's birth was foretold by a swallow and heralded by a double rainbow and even a new star. Now that's making an entrance with pizazz. And, pizazz he had; they aren't many flashy dictators left to amuse us. I cried for days when Idi Amin DaDa lost power; that great legend had actually convinced himself that Uganda was an imperial power. Much in the same way, Kim Jong Il actually convinced himself he was tall with elevator shoes and a pompadour hair job that would have rivaled the best Elvis had to offer. His flare was well-shown when he ordered the kidnapping of a popular composer and his wife in order to get better party songs (and I don't mean "party" like "the life of", although I'm sure he was convinced of that, too). When he liked a pretty singer in another country, he just had her snatched from the streets; Madonna was very lucky he didn't like "Vogue" the way we did. In his rarified world, famine in the countryside took a back seat to his movie collection. They just don't make them like that anymore.