No Beef for Me

 

(I'm a peace-loving man.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. One of the biggest hits currently on Netflix is a Korean show called The Glory. It’s about a woman who was bullied in middle school by her sadistic school mates. She is now a public-school teacher and swears revenge upon her former tormentors. Bullying is a huge issue here on the peninsula. And I admit that it’s a serious problem. Nevertheless, sometimes you just have to let go of the past and get on with your life.

I ate hash browns for breakfast and watched Fox News. The world is beginning to realize that Dr. Tony Fauci is actually an evil little dwarf rather than the magnanimous savior portrayed by the mainstream media. Tony and his friend Francis Collins funded a lab that released a terrible disease on the people of this planet. It killed over seven million poor old bastards. Hell, I caught the virus myself about six months ago, and it was certainly no walk in the part. In my humble opinion, Fauci and his butt buddy both belong in a jail cell.

I talked to my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “I finally got through to Nurse Ken the other night.”

“What did he say?”

“He screamed at me.”

“Why?”

“I asked him how his girlfriend is doing, and he told me that he doesn’t have a romantic partner.”

Mom smiled. “Ken doesn’t like to talk about her.”

“How come?”

“I guess he’s shy.”

“So are they an item or not?”

“According to him, she already has a boyfriend.”

“Then what were the both of them doing smoking marijuana on your patio together.”

She shrugged. “In my opinion, she’s sending out signals, but your boy is hesitating to take the bait. Maybe she’s decided to move on with her life.”

“Well, it’s his personal business, and I’m certainly not going to interfere.”

My day at work went well. I am currently reading a short story with my high schoolers called The Use of Force. Its author is the famous poet William Carlos Williams. I’m a huge fan of the tale. It’s a about a little girl with diphtheria who is driving her doctor up the wall. She won’t let him take a throat culture, so the protagonist has no choice but to become physical. Along with being a celebrated poet, William Carlos Williams was also a pediatrician in New Jersey back in the day.

I looked at the class. “Has anyone ever seen the movie Dirty Harry?”

One boy raised his hand. “I saw it with my mother. It was on Netflix recently.”

“Did you like it?”

“Very much.”

“Well, Inspector Callahan has a similar problem. A little girl is in danger, and Harry uses torture to learn her location. Sadly, she’s dead by the time he finds her.”

A teen named Wanda said, “Torture is never justified under any circumstance. We are past that point in our evolution.”

I said, “Suppose a North Korean plants a nuclear device in Seoul? What? You wouldn’t rip out his fingernails to find where it is?”

She shot me the stink eye. “No, I wouldn’t.” Then she crossed her arms angrily over her chest.

I don’t like to upset the kids, so I let it go. The last thing I need is for her parents to make a beef with the school over little old me. That wouldn’t bode well for my future.