American Freak Show

by Willie Geist

  The slow, drippy piano music fades out and the picture dissolves from the overhead shot of the course to the announcers’ booth. Two Western-looking men wearing blue blazers with the CBS Sports logo stitched onto the pocket sit framed by a pair of Asian men in matching gray suits who are standing with their hands clasped perfectly and staring ahead blankly.

  “Hello, friends, I’m Jim Nantz, joined in the booth by my partner, the three-time Masters champion Nick Faldo . . . and by our two government minders, who have been nothing but gracious and patriotic since our arrival here in North Korea. Some say this country is an outpost of tyranny run by a nutty little guy who wears women’s pantsuits from Chico’s. I say . . .” Nantz looks down at his notes, clears his throat, and reads, “Those people are Western imperialists who, mark the words of the Dear Leader Kim Jong-il, will suffer grave consequences if they light the fuse of war on the Korean peninsula.”

  Nantz exhales and puts the note card to the side. The men in gray suits nod subtly in approval.

  “Our aerial coverage is provided as always by a surveillance blimp from the good people at the National Defense Commission of North Korea, who remind you that ‘Someone is always watching.’ ”

  “With that, Nick Faldo, we begin another year in what really has become the premiere celebrity golf tournament in the world.”

  “There’s no question about it, Jimmy. The players and the celebrities love to come here to Pyongyang every year—mostly, let’s just be honest, because of the outrageous purse for the field. Ten million dollars, a Russian MiG-21 fighter jet, and a newborn baby just for showing up is a little better than what they offer at the John Deere Classic!” Nantz chuckles nervously. Faldo glances over his shoulder at the hovering government agent and then looks down at a note card of his own.

  “But they also enjoy the tournament because this is a lovely, peaceful country—nothing like it is portrayed in the West. Just from my short time here I can tell you that the international reports of rampant poverty, violent suppression of opposition, and leadership by a man who died four years ago and now runs the country Weekend at Bernie’s–style are completely false and irresponsible.” Faldo takes a deep breath. “Those who continue to perpetuate such falsehoods should prepare to face a firestorm of nuclear retaliation.” Faldo looks up from the card at Nantz.

  “Indeed, Nick. Let’s take a look at some of the fascinating groups that’ll be out there on this immaculate course today.

  “We begin with our host, the Dear Leader Kim Jong-il. He was first off the tee this morning, playing in his handpicked group with the legendary former coach of the Chicago Bears, Mike Ditka, and funnyman Ray Romano. Looks like they’re having some fun out there already. Let’s send it down to our colleague David Feherty with that group just stepping off the tenth green. David?”

  “Thanks, Jimmy. I have the good fortune to be here with the Dear Leader himself—” Kim Jong-il jumps in. “David, please, call me Chairman. Or Supreme Commander. My father was the Dear Leader! You’re makin’ me feel old over here.”

  Feherty proceeds, “All right, Mr. Supreme Commander, another year, another really first-rate event.”

  “Well, first of all, none of this is possible without our sponsors. Let’s be real clear about that. Big shout-out to the gang at Outback Steakhouse. They really stepped up again this year. Uh, State Farm, Bob Sanders and his team over there—can’t say enough about the commitment they’ve made to this event. And I don’t want to congratulate myself too much, but it certainly doesn’t hurt the ol’ bottom line when you peddle outrageous amounts of nuclear material on the international black market as I did this year. What recession, right?”

  Feherty replies, “Whatever you say, Supreme Commander. Now, tell us about this group you’ve assembled today. Why’d you pick Ray Romano?”

  “Because Ted Danson wasn’t available!” Kim Jong-il cracks himself up and punches Romano in the arm. Romano laughs politely because if he doesn’t he’ll be executed.

  “No, look, I’m a big fan of Ray’s. I actually tried to kidnap him and the cast of Everybody Loves Raymond a few years ago to make them perform an entire season of the show in one of my bunkers, but the plot was foiled by those dicks at the CIA. An abduction is the biggest compliment I can pay an artist.”

  Romano nods. “True story.”

  Feherty moves on. “Wow, you are a big fan. And the third member of this group, Mike Ditka.”

  “Yes, Iron Mike. Get over here, Mike, ya big lug.” Kim Jong-il throws his arm around Ditka, who laughs and picks Kim Jong-il off the ground in a giant bear hug. Ditka is wearing a Panama Jack straw hat and an ironic T-shirt with a picture of Kim Jong-il that reads, YOU BE IL-IN’!

  “This guy is the best,” says the Dear Leader. “I modeled my leadership style after Ditka when he was with those great Bears teams of the eighties—disciplined, tough, and afraid of no one. Only difference, I guess, is that Ditka didn’t starve millions of his own people.” Kim Jong-il lets out a big laugh. “Kidding, kidding. Relax, everybody. It’s a joke.”

  Kim Jong-il turns to Ditka. “Although maybe you should have starved the Fridge—guy could have used a little less time at the dessert cart. Jesus.” Ditka laughs and puts Kim Jong-il into a playful headlock. Ditka is quickly tackled to the ground and thrown into an unmarked car.

  Feherty tries to move on. “All right, well, hit ’em straight on the back nine and have fun out there, Supreme Commander.”

  Kim Jong-il pulls out a completed scorecard and waves it in Feherty’s face. “Hit ’em straight? Dudn’t matter how I hit ’em, you wacky Irish bastard. Here’s my completed scorecard for today’s round. Let’s see . . .” Kim Jong-il holds the card away from himself and looks down his glasses deliberately.

  “Whoa, looky there! Six holes in one! Looks like another good day for the Big Man, David! I always hit ’em straight, dumbass! You must be new here. We’ll see you at the bar—that’s one place I know an Irishman like you can find.” Kim Jong-il slaps Feherty on the back and turns for the next tee. “Let’s go, boys. We’ve got Putin and George Lopez breathin’ down our necks in that group behind us!”

  Kim Jong-il turns and shouts to Vladimir Putin, who is putting on the tenth green, “Hey, Vlad! Double or nothing on those warheads says you blow that putt!”

  Putin steps away from his putt and turns over his shoulder to Kim Jong-il. “Maybe if you hadn’t mowed all these greens in the exact image of your own face, I wouldn’t have to putt around your giant forehead, Mr. Supreme Egomaniac! Oh, and I didn’t know they made platform golf spikes!”

  Kim Jong-il bursts into a giant laugh. Putin smiles and waves his hands dismissively at the Dear Leader. George Lopez and the third member of their group, former NFL quarterback Vinny Testaverde, look at each other and decide it’s a good idea to laugh.

  Feherty kicks it back up to the booth. “Well, Jimmy, our host putting on another good show today.”

  “And what a showman he is, David Feherty. Thank you.” Nantz turns back to his partner.

  “Nick Faldo, let’s go out to the 4th tee, where we find the compelling group of Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Hall of Fame catcher Johnny Bench, and our good friend Maury Povich. This group, Nick, really playing some good golf this week.”

  “Yeah, Jimmy, Maury is playing well, as he always does. The big surprise here, frankly, is Ahmadinejad. He is surprisingly long off the tee for a man his size. He looks great tee-to-green. He’s missed some putts that he’d probably like to have back, but really quite impressive with the long irons.”

  Nantz nods, adding, “And despite the warm conditions, the Iranian president playing in that zip-up windbreaker he has made so famous. The jacket this week though adorned with the logos for Baked! Lays and General Electric—some of us surprised to see American sponsors attracted to the man who has wished publicly for the annihilation of the United States of America.

  “Let’s go down to another member of our broadcast team today, Gary McCord. H
e’s with President Ahmadinejad, who just bombed one off the tee. Sounds like that one cleared the DMZ, Gary.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy. Great geopolitical reference. I’m here with the Iranian president, whose name I won’t even attempt to pronounce. Mr. President, pretty handy with a three-wood in your hand there, sir.”

  Ahmadinejad leans into the microphone. “Thanks, Gary. I don’t get to play as much as I’d like to, but when K-Jong calls, I ask where he wants me and when. He’s like a brother. We stay in touch mostly over our shared Axis of Evil Facebook page.”

  McCord nods like all good sideline reporters do when they’re listening to complete nonsense.

  “Plus, what a thrill to meet the great Johnny Bench, right? What kid didn’t want to be Johnny Bench growing up? I had posters of him, the Ayatollah, and Dominique Wilkins on the wall over my bed. Don’t tell the Supreme Council, but the Johnny Bench poster was the biggest.” Ahmadinejad winks at the camera and chuckles.

  “I told Johnny back in the clubhouse over a chicken salad sandwich and an Arnold Palmer that I’d give him a couple days warning before I wipe the United States off the map so he can go to Toronto for the weekend. Him and Carson Daly. Those are literally the only two people I’m telling.” Ahmadinejad laughs at his own joke. “Just teasing, guys. No, I’m not.”

  McCord struggles with a reply to the statement. “Uh, I think he means it, guys. Jimmy, let’s go back up to you.” Ahmadinejad waves to the camera and mouths, “Hi, Mom! Death to America!” as they cut back to Nantz and Faldo in the booth.

  “Thank you, Gary. Sounds to me like he definitely intends to destroy America. Nick, you’re British so you absolutely could not care less. Let’s get back to the golf. Quite a collection of talent out on the course today—walk us through some of the really interesting groups playing together.”

  “Just delicious combinations here, Jimmy. We know that Kim Jong-il has already signed a card showing he shot a 48 today even though he still has 8 holes to play, so these other players are really going for second place.” Faldo’s government minder takes a step toward him.

  “I’ll be watching the threesome of Hugo Chávez, Samuel L. Jackson, and rocker Alice Cooper very closely. Some really good golfers in that group. Alice Cooper takes a backseat to no one on the golf course, as you know. In fact, celebrity golf is actually all a new generation knows of him. And Sam Jackson, of course, has turned into one of the best celebrity players out there. He wears Kangol caps sideways when he plays. That kind of an urban look makes many people around the course quite nervous. I like it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hold my wallet a little tighter when he’s around.”

  Nantz nods in agreement as Faldo continues.

  “Now Chávez had requested Danny Glover in his group, of course, but Glover is currently in postproduction on a porn version of Lethal Weapon called, ironically, Lethal Weapon. Harry Belafonte originally was scheduled to be in the Chávez group as well, but sadly, he got lost looking for his shoes. He was last seen signing an autograph for a mannequin at a Los Angeles–area men’s shop.”

  Nantz jumps in. “And, Nick, let’s go down to the seventh, where I’m told Bill Murray is up to his old antics again. David Feherty, what’s going on down there?”

  Feherty, laughing, reports, “Well, Jimmy, Bill Murray just threw Madeleine Albright face-first into a sand trap, to the delight of the gallery here. At least I think it was delight. It’s hard to tell with these North Koreans. They’re not terribly emotive. The whole thing was a riot: it took both Dan Marino and Tom Bergeron to get Secretary Albright out of the hazard. She was in stitches. Classic Murray, guys.”

  Nantz and Faldo laugh back in the booth. As the camera cuts back to them too soon, viewers catch a half second of the government minders making throat-slash gestures to the announcing pair. Nantz and Faldo stop laughing immediately. Nantz continues.

  “Inappropriate public conduct by Bill Murray there. Not funny at all.” The government minders straighten back up.

  “Nick, you were telling me in the prisoner transport vehicle on the way over to the course this morning that you’ve been particularly impressed with what you’ve seen out of Bill Clinton this week.”

  “I really have, Jimmy. President Clinton, a decent golfer for a man with his schedule, is clearly comfortable here in North Korea. Remember, he was invited to this country by the Dear Leader personally to rescue those two American journalists a while back, and he really appears to be in his element. The former president is playing in a group with the entire losing team from last year’s Lingerie Bowl. Certainly a larger group than you’d typically see at a major golf event, slowing down play considerably, but he’s striking the ball nicely.”

  Nantz jumps in. “Yes, President Clinton was telling me earlier today, ‘What happens in Pyongyang stays in Pyongyang,’ as he snapped on his lambskin golf glove. He also said something about ‘hittin’ ’em long and hard with his five-wood’ as he gestured to his playing partners.” Nantz realizes he has disclosed too much.

  “But he does great charitable work around the world and whatnot. So, you know.”

  “Anyhoo, we’re going to step away for a commercial here. If the break feels a little longer than usual, it’s because Nick and I will be receiving our bihourly performance review from North Korean government officials. Please pray for us. Seriously. We send you to break with our current leaderboard here at the 7th Annual Kim Jong-il Celebrity Golf Challenge.” Nantz looks at his notes one more time, takes a deep breath, and reads in a defeated monotone, “Also, America sucks big donkey balls. That’s what it says on this card here: that America sucks, uh, sucks big donkey balls.” The government minders chuckle behind Nantz as the leaderboard goes up.

  * * *

  7TH ANNUAL KIM JONG-IL CELEBRITY GOLF CHALLENGE

  Democratic People’s Golf and Racquet Club

  Pyongyang, North Korea

  LEADERS

  KIM JONG-IL: -31

  ALONZO MOURNING: -8

  CRAIG T. NELSON: -8

  KOFI ANNAN: -7

  ELISABETH HASSELBECK: -7

  KEVIN SORBO: -6

  SUGAR RAY LEONARD: -5

  HALEY JOEL OSMENT: -4

  CHIPPER JONES: -4

  LADY GAGA: -2

  Notables: Robert Mugabe (E), Dennis Franz (+2), Darryl Strawberry (+12)

  * * *

  TRUE STORY . . .

  ATTENTION, WALMART SLAPPERS

  Stranger smacks crying two-year-old at Walmart

  There are two immutable truths about kids: 1) other people’s children are annoying, and 2) despite your disdain, you are not allowed to hit those other people’s children. A 61-year-old man observed the first rule at the Walmart in Stone Mountain, Georgia, but broke the second, all-important one.

  When a 2-year-old girl starting crying inside the store, the mean old bastard warned her mother that if she couldn’t shut the child up, he’d be glad to help her. The crying continued, apparently interrupting the man’s efforts to find a reasonably priced shower caddy or whatever it was that he needed to focus on. He approached the little girl and smacked her in the face several times. According to police, he then said, “See, I told you I would shut her up.” Yes, he talked trash about smacking a 2-year-old.

  Security subdued the man until local police arrived. The man was convicted of felony cruelty to a child. Of course, if the girl’s father had been at the Walmart that day, there would have been a visitation and burial scheduled instead of a court hearing.

  After serving his time, the Georgia man expressed remorse and promised to serve out the remainder of his days on this Earth not frightening children, but doing what he does best: stomping puppies.

  Chapter 15

  The Neverland Ranch Yard Sale

  OWN A PIECE OF HISTORY!

  NEVERLAND RANCH YARD SALE

  EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!

  Hosted by Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, Randy,

  Jackie, La Toya, and Rebbie* Jackson

  W
ith Special Performance by Janet Jackson

  *Yes, she’s one of the Jacksons. You can look it up on the Internet.

  T he sudden death of Michael Jackson in June 2009 set off a protracted family feud over his estate. After months of ugly negotiation, Jackson’s eight siblings and their parents, Joe and Katherine, finally agreed that the only fair solution was to hold an old-fashioned yard sale at Michael’s Neverland Ranch, with the proceeds split equally among them. Joe appointed himself to run the event, citing a reluctance to “trust the rest of y’all dumb motherfuckers.”

  Excerpts of the original minutes from the planning meeting for the yard sale were entered into evidence as part of a class-action fraud lawsuit brought by the Jackson children against Joe Jackson. Attorneys for the Jackson siblings argue that Joe embezzled money from the yard sale, whose proceeds were to be shared evenly. The plaintiffs say the meeting minutes are evidence of Mr. Jackson’s strong-arming, humiliation, and early plans to cheat them out of their share of the profits. The portion of the document entered into evidence reads as follows:

  JOE JACKSON arrives 45 minutes late.

  JOE JACKSON immediately appoints himself manager and executive producer of the Neverland Ranch Yard Sale.

  JOE JACKSON declares none of the proceeds from the sale will go to charity as previously proposed, saying, “That was some bullshit to make us look good in the press as we ghoulishly pick over the possessions of our dead son and brother.”

  JOE JACKSON tells La Toya to “shut up and lose 15 pounds.” When there is absolute quiet, he goes around the conference table and hands out the following assignments with raised voice, beginning with Jermaine.

  JERMAINE

  Sell that goddamn roller coaster and the Ferris wheel from the backyard. These are our big-ticket items. Find one of those obsessed freaks who used to dress up like Michael with the glove and shit. Those people will do anything to get a piece of Michael. Or invite some rich asshole whose little brat daughter wants a roller coaster from Michael Jackson’s house for her Sweet Sixteen. You’ve seen that shit on MTV where the man spends a million dollars on a birthday party for his ugly-ass daughter to make up for the fact that nobody likes her and boys won’t go near her ugly ass. Find one of those suckers. There’s also a steam locomotive and an entire railroad system back there, for fuck’s sake. Get rid of all that shit. And scrub it down, too. I don’t even want to think about what that skin-bleaching freak was doing on the kiddie coaster. Don’t fuck this up like you have everything else in your wasted life, Jermaine. I can’t believe I thought about making you the lead singer. Goddamn!