Look, I know none of you turn to this column to read anything political; in fact, several readers have emailed to tell me they search specifically for this column to get away from politics. I appreciate that because it’s the same reason I often choose to lose myself in English murder mysteries—to escape the violence and vulgarity in our day to day lives by watching genteel people wearing tweeds, living in charming village settings imaginatively killing each other. 

But somehow, when there’s an oaken sideboard set for tea with a silver service, the bloodied body on the floor seems so much more…civilized.

And truth be told, I was actually going to write about dogs this week. Not just dogs in general, but about how I recently read that dogs can smell things a thousand times more intensely than a human. And you thought it was bad for you when your husband, having ordered the pad thai for dinner, found it funny to hold the covers over your head.

But then all of a sudden we’re at the precipice of a nuclear showdown with North Korea. Sure, we can blame the last several administrations for it, but truth be told, if I’d been in charge, I doubt I would have done much more than sanctions, either—because there’s no other solution anyone could actually call ‘good.’

Oh, sure, we could annihilate North Korea and bomb it out of existence, but it would have to be a surprise attack with, hopefully, no one tweeting as Un wouldn’t hesitate to bomb the 11th largest economy in the world, South Korea, first, killing millions, or its close neighbor across the water, Japan, the world’s third largest economy, with 30 million residing in Tokyo alone.

If we use a nuclear bomb, we would have to be willing to incinerate millions of innocent human beings, try to figure out how to deal with the melt down of their destroyed nuclear reactors and unleash radiation fall out and its effects for pretty much all of Northeast Asia. The fishing industry in the area will be decimated (and actually the fact that tilapia would then be in short supply is the only positive thing I can think of, that nasty, fatty fish), and China won’t be happy, although it’s suspected Un’s escalated ability to churn out nuclear missiles lies squarely on their wannabe imperialistic shoulders.

That’s pretty much been our last few days, hasn’t it? And although I haven’t had children, people who have tell me of a terrible first few months of complete sleep deprivation, with everything feeling like a mind-numbing blur, and that about sums up how I think many of us have felt: we have a big, fat, colicky baby that won’t go to sleep and we’re exhausted by it all.

Not to mention frightened.

I’m not embarrassed to say that I’m praying for intervention. I am, however, embarrassed that the intervention I’ve been praying for is a platinum haired, heavily tattooed man with enough nose, ear and eyebrow piercings to hang a pair of curtains across his face, but I’m not kidding when I say only Dennis Rodman can save the world.

You heard me. We are living in a time in which only Dennis Rodman can save us.

I’ll wait while you sit down to slow your heart and catch your breath.

Jong Un is insane. I think we’re all in agreement there? I mean, one doesn’t execute a general for not sitting up straight enough during a meeting, or your own family members out of a sense of extreme paranoia unless one is clinically insane.

And sanctions don’t work because while the rest of his people starve, he manages to expand his girth and still has plenty to eat (he loves cheese. Seriously, he’s like Shemp when he see’s a piece of cheese) and drink with a lovely place to live.

It therefore seems to me that taking things away from Un won’t work. What he wants is more things. And what he loves most of all is Dennis Rodman and basketball. Can we not reward him to get our way? Can we not give him his very own basketball team? One we wouldn’t miss? What about the Knicks? They’re the worst! What if we gave him the Knicks with Dennis Rodman as their coach?

Of course details would have to be ironed out: they wouldn’t actually become North Korean citizens and no one would be executed for losing, but as Dennis is the only American that Un feels any affection for I say put him on Air Force One tonight, with a box of Cuban cigars and a bale of Kraft singles. I’m not kidding—Google it yourself, the Dear Leader is nuts about cheese. He’s also nuts about that old Hot Chocolate song, ‘Brother Louie.’ But mostly, he’s just nuts.

These are the times we’re living in, folks. Help us, Dennis. You may be the only way to guarantee world peace.

I need to lie down now.