Survivor and Salvation

Some if not all of you have been wandering where the lovely cast of this blog have gone. Well, I cant speak for the group (actually I can but they'll just beat me) but I was taken hostage in North Korea. Amazing? Yes. Insane? Perhaps. Do you still have that rash?....tell you later. Now then onto my tale on how I escaped from Pyongyang, North Korea.
I was happily eating a yogurt stick near the border of Korea. What was I doing there? you monkey wrench throwing audience ask. Simple. There were free T-shirts of Kim Jong Il. I cant pass up a deal like that. So I wandered around the border being yelled at by both sides. Suddenly my yogurt stick flew out of my hand and landed in no mans land. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was an act of something more powerful, maybe I just threw it for fun, in any case it landed in between the two borders.
Thats when the North Korean guards come in. As I tried to retrieve my yogurt stick (which by the way are absolutly FABULOUS!) I was roughly taken across the North Korean border. Why didnt the South Koreans help me? Well maybe it had something to do with my being nude. But hey its a liberal world aint it?
I was quickly clothed in drab communist cloth clothing and hurled into a jeep. A sack that smelled slightly of a locker room was pulled over my head so I could see a thing. Not like I cared. For the reason I didnt care was because on loud speakers throughout North Korea was the average propaganda that seems so effective in sapping the will of the oppressed people. Now propaganda itself can somewhat dull you and make you a pawn of the governement but what really works is music. A certain type of music. I think you know what Im talking about.
Maroon 5. The skinny emo losers that play horrid ear bleeding music were played intersperced with the propaganda. It'd drive any sane person mad. Luckly Im not sane so it didnt effect me much. On and on we drove through Pyongyang with people throwing things at me. Why? Somehow I had gotten naked again. Quite a talent I must admit since I was in handcuffs. Anyhoo we drove until we stopped. What?
I was forced out of the jeep and hustled into a small cell. There the hood, thankfully, was taken off and I saw what was to be my cell, unthankfully. It was a wee little cell. Like being in a cubicle with more natural light. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light I saw a figure standing near the slit of a window. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me (sneaky little devils) but no it was...
Tom Westman. Thats right. The recent winner of Survivor. Needless to say in my Forrest Gump-esque life I had never met a Survivor winner. He stared at me with his intense eyes then went back to staring out the window. Not wanting to disturb him I sat quietly in the corner. Thats when I noticed the cell door was open. Guess the NK guards arent very bright. Quickly I yelled for Tom and we both ran out of the prison complex.
I'll quickly some up what happend. Stolen AK-47s, Dead guards, stolen MiG fighter, diplomatic problems, WWIII almost happened AND I found a dime. So what the point my Alfs? I beilive that Tom Westman of truck 108 of New York was trying to stop the nuclear program of North Korea. Why? he won survivor folks. He can do anyhting. I think I saw him fly once.
So go out on this monday and try not to think of your own suffering rather the suffering of others. And if you find yourself naked on the border. Grab yourself a yogurt stick. They're grrrrrrrrrrrrrreat! Stupid Tony.
Adieu.
My legs wish to foxtrot.