S. Korea's 'Worst-Case Scenario' Planning Doesn't Include Genital Torture

ast week's announcement by South Korea that it was planning for a "worst-case scenario" in a U.S.-North Korean war fell short by the standards of many worst-case scenario experts.

According to delegates speaking on behalf of South Korea, the country is making preparations for war in the event negotiations to prevent nuclear armament fail. South Korea anticipates multiple responses that could endanger the country, even up to and including a nuclear attack on a major city such as Seoul by their northern neighbor, an event South Korea considers a "worst-case scenario."

But those in the know say a nuclear assault on Seoul would fall far short of the "worst-case," in their estimate. A nuclear blast would likely incinerate most inhabitants on the spot, and those not killed in the blast, while being badly burned and poisoned by nuclear radiation, would still face quicker and less painful deaths than other possible, "even worse" scenarios.

"An atomic death would be horrible, no doubt about it, but 'worse-case'?" questioned worst-case scenario expert Rich "the Douche" Borwinkle. "I highly doubt that. Until you introduce things like genital electrocution and sandpaper-on-the-eyeballs, you're a long way from worst-case."

Borwinkle makes a point other experts agree with; worst-case aficionado and author of The 100 Worst Ways to Die Albert Crome insists he made the point before anyone else.

"There are peaceful ways to die, like suffocating in your sleep or freezing to death or something. I've heard drowning is a little intense, but it's pretty cool because the flashbacks in those last moments of brain activity are awesome. But nuclear assault isn't anywhere close to best or worst, it's right in the middle."

Continued Crome, "One word for you: Acid. That'll smack you on the ass, won't it? Don't tell me if given a choice between radiation poisoning and acid in the face you would take the latter. And we're not even getting into flesh-eating bacteria, small pox, or some of the more ordinary every-day deaths like ass cancer. That'll make you beg for a mushroom cloud."

Expressions of Slaughter videos producer Jacob Vissucio also found the South Korean "worst-case" preparation falling short. "No doubt the South Koreans aren't anticipating being caught on train tracks when North Korea comes barreling through, non-stop. Here, check this out."

This reporter did, indeed, "check it out," and voluminous vomiting followed. If South Korea is subject to the same kind of horror as the poor son of a bitch on the video, they have yet to know what real pain is.

Similar feelings resonate with many Americans, at least those in Roanoke, Virginia's Bewley High 10 a.m. study hall.

Stiller Wells, one study hall regular: "If North Korea was real vicious, like real sick bastards, they should do some of that medieval shit on South-K. They would, like, rip a whole in your stomach—not enough to kill you, but just enough so's this giant rat could be shoved in there. And the rat, like, ain't been fed in days so it goes all crazy eating up inside you. That's some sick shit. The South wouldn't rise again from that, I tell you what."

Wells and this reporter then made plans to rent the train video that was described to him, at some future unnamed date. Representatives from the South Korean embassy refused to respond to questions, and would not stay on the phone long enough to hear the details of the rat story.

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Thanks to an unprecedented number of Jurassic Park sequels, the BBC's "educational" series Walking with Dinosaurs, and countless truly putrid CGI dinosaur DVDs aimed at children, these terrible ugly beasts of yore have never been more popular. However, none of these irresponsible Hollywood types with their sexy and exciting CGI tools will tell you the real secret truth about these terrible beasts: Dinosaurs were boring.

Take for example the Snorasaurus, the most boring dinosaur ever to walk the earth. The Snorasaurus spent his days sitting in the mud, staring straight ahead and giving no indication whatsoever that it was alive or dead. Eventually, the Snorasaurus would evolve into his modern-day cousin, the legendary boring pet the iguana.

Clearly, the public has been sold a bill of goods about dinosaurs and how exciting they supposedly were. Few will tell you the truth about the Disappointadocus, the most overrated dinosaur ever to live, or his cousin, Hypalamus. That doesn't fit into their neat little "dinosaurs were awesome" worldview.

Few dinosaur lovers today would be loving it if they crossed paths with the Australopithasaur, an Aussie dinosaur known for its withering, pithy tone and general bitchy demeanor. This miserable beast was closely related to Cockbastaranus, the "Asshole Lizard" whom annoyed all others and was often killed by other dinosaurs as a matter of principle, in spite of its inedible meat, which was uniformly stringy and bitter.

The most famous disappointing dinosaur of all, however, was the Tyrannosaurus Rex, the "Terrible Lizard." And in this case, the name was perfectly fitting, as the Tyrannosaurus was uniformly terrible at hunting, fighting, mating, and all other dinosaur activities. This hapless creature was also known as the biggest pussy in all of nature. In spite of its impressive size and terrifying appearance, the Tyrannosaurus was easily frightened by other dinosaurs, birds, ground squirrels, and the sound of the wind rustling through tree branches. Because of his incredible cowardice, the Tyrannosaurus spent most of his time running away from various threats, real or imagined, and hiding among bushes and shrubberies.

These weren't the only miserable dinosaurs of course, as the unfortunate roll call goes on and on. Few scientists care to remember the Oshitodon, a dinosaur known for causing problems it would then blame on other dinosaurs. Most consider this clumsy oaf of nature best left forgotten.

Possibly the strangest of the dinosaurs was the Nonudodon, a dinosaur with a paralyzing fear of nudity, which would fashion strange, primitive articles of clothing out of branches, rocks, pelts and the patchwork skins of other dinosaurs. These modest creatures were often only seen at night, foraging on the forest floor for accessories.

Despite the claims of a few pissy scientists bent on ruining the fun for everyone else, dinosaurs and early man did in fact coexist, and they threw wild parties. Early man loved nothing more than getting dinosaurs piss drunk on fermented goat milk, and this led directly to early man's nomadic nature, since nobody wanted to hang around camp anymore after the dinosaurs had started barfing all over the place.

Dinosaurs did pose a special problem for early man, however, since many early cave-dwellers were trampled by Tyrannosaurus that were running away from threateningly-shaped clouds in the sky. Eventually, early man had to take to traveling around in giant man-sized boots with foot holes cut out of the bottom, knowing dinosaurs would never step in the boots because lizards don't wear shoes.

But how did all these dinosaurs get their names? After the discovery of strange reptile fossils in 1857, Sir Edward Albey named the theoretical beasts Agranamapeus, which is Latin for "Ahhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! ArrggggaaaaahhhhhhhHh!" Sir Dingus Reily found this name to be accurate, though lacking in social graces, and proposed instead the name dinosaur, Latin for "Lizards so big you'd totally shit."

Unfortunately, the names of dinosaurs have often reflected the biases of the scientists doing the discovering, especially in less-enlightened historical times. Case in point is the Beaneramus, a small herbivore once commonly found in the land that is now Mexico. Thankfully, modern-day scientists have taken the liberty to give this beast the more politically-correct name of the Labambadon.

Likewise with the Krautosaur of Southern Germany, the bi-curious Fagodon, the McSaurus of Scotland, and the Frogonomin, the French "bird of meat" that once terrified the part of the skies that is located very near to the ground.

Now that you know the truth, do a good deed today and spread the disappointing word to all the small children you can find, before they get all carried away.

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If there is one thing we are guaranteed as Americans, failing all else, it's the right to sue. Even the prisoner in the darkest and dingiest cell has the right to file a lawsuit through a two-bit shyster claiming the prison conditions have done irreparable emotional damage which requires financial compensation.

I'm going to exercise that right, fellow Americans, because I have just seen a play so obviously based on my life that they should have called it Ching! Ching! I Owe Red Bagel a Lot of Money. Oh, sure, they tried to disguise it, calling the play instead Ching! Ching! I Owe Fred Scarsdale a Lot of Money, but I recognize my life when I see it re-enacted for me in proscenium stage setting.

First off, and this is so obvious it doesn't bear pointing out: Fred Scarsdale? It rhymes with Red so plainly I needn't go any further. The judge will hear that and throw the book at the playwright, and it will be a Michener book, I can tell you that much. Plus, I've been to Scarsdale one time to research my theory about the Grand Canyon being the ass crack of a giant rock creature, though that didn't really pan out. But that's in the play, too, if you were wondering.

Second, the play is about a tyrannical journalist and editor (me) with a mysterious background (me) and high standards that none of his staff can meet (also me) and who they plan to murder in his sleep for his reign of tyranny (bound to happen), and, as a subplot, fails in all his relationships with women because of strong mother issues (me, too) and his inability to maintain an erection. This final part is the only fictional element in the play, though if the judge starts to doubt the authenticity of my claim I can perhaps produce a couple of doctors who would verify the similarities.

The playwright is some hotshot former journalist and M-TV veejay just known as R. Dunkin. Though the name sounds a little familiar, I must admit, I have no idea where I would cross paths with someone who could write. My business usually limits me to meeting with conspiracists and Washington insiders, publishing experiment results from scientists with poor methodology, and bossing around reporters and columnists. Rok Finger attempted to write a play once, but I hear it was so poor he ended up giving it away, and it reappeared years later as Rent. Even if I thought Finger possessed the babymakers enough to write a play about me, I know it wouldn't be as powerful and well-written as the Fred Scarsdale thing, and it also completely lacked music.

I'll get to the bottom of this before too long, and when I do, there better be a big fat change purse waiting for me. I am not the sort of man who displays his life to the public for a minimal price in a community theater setting. Someone out there owes me a fat shiny copper and I'm going to get it or my name isn't Fred Scarsdale. Or Red Bagel, I mean.

In the meantime, as much as I hate to admit it, you should really go see Ching! Ching! I Owe Fred Scarsdale a Lot of Money at the Appleberry Theater in Vlanch, Pennsylvania. It is a well-done rendition of a man corrupt with power until, like King Lear, he is reminded of what is important by the hero of the play, Rafael Tumpkin. And if you're not big into drama or anything, you should still check it out because of the hot love scenes between the main character Fred Scarsdale and his strumpet reporter Jill Tumken. This stuff is too good to be true.

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