Where's the Thesis?

 

(What's the point in setting yourself on fire?)

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 shit. In central Seoul, there's an area called Gwanghwamun Plaza. It features a huge, impressive statue of Korea’s most famous king, Sejong. He’s the guy who invented the nation’s alphabet. Anyway, a depressed local in his 50s stood in front of the monument and set himself on fire. He’s now recovering in the hospital from severe burns.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched Fox News. Chicago has a new mayor, and his name is Brandon Johnson. And let me tell you people something. This guy is even crazier than Lori Lightfoot. He’s one of those defund-the-police, Black-Lives-Matter loons. So you can expect another huge crime wave to hit the Windy City any day now. Yet I’m not the least bit surprised. The United States is under the judgment of God, and once that happens, there’s no coming back. Mark my words. It’s a downward spiral from here, my friends.

I looked at Rice-Boy Larry. “You and your mother gave me a kick-ass cold. My throat hurts, and my head is throbbing. I will never forgive either one of you.”

He said, “I thought you caught it from a student. That’s what you claimed yesterday.”

“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. But you guys were sick last week. So you remain on the list of suspects.”

He shrugged. “The illness isn’t a huge deal. It’ll be gone in a week.”

“A week? That’s far too long.”

“Why don’t you take a sick day?”

I shook my head. “Can’t do it. Sick days create too much work for a teacher. I’ve got to get everything prepared for the substitute and write all kinds of detailed instructions. It’s better just to show up and suffer.”

I got to school at 8 a.m. and went straight to my class. Then I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “How’s your husband’s knee?”

She said, “He’s still limping, but it doesn’t appear to be too serious.”

“Did you see that Chicago has a new loon in charge of the city?”

“I did. But I’m an old lady, so I no longer give a fuck. I’ll be dead soon.”

“Don’t talk like that!”

“It’s true. They call it the cycle of life.”

Suddenly, a bird smashed right into my window with a massive bang. The creature hit with such a forceful impact that it left blood streaks and feathers on the surface of the glass. After that, it took a four-story nosedive to the grass below. The event was so shocking that I nearly crapped my pants. I shit you not.

Mom must have read the grim expression on my face.

She said, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “A little innocent bird just committed suicide by slamming into my window.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Well, I guess the experts would call the incident the cycle of life.”

She laughed and laughed and laughed.

I said, “Have you ever heard of Olive Heiligenthal?”

“No.”

“She was a cute two-year-old girl who suddenly stopped breathing and died. Anyway, her parents belong to a church named Bethel located in Redding, California. The pastor, Bill Johnson, is a famous lunatic who believes that God talks to him every day. He tried to resurrect Olive for a full week using the power the Lord had given him. But Olive remained as dead as a doornail.”

“So what’s your point?”

“I don’t actually have one. I seldom do.”