Credit-Card Debt

 

(It's time to cut the plastic into little pieces.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty dump. A woman in her 20s from Pusan posed as math tutor over the internet. She then went to the apartment of another female for a job interview. The teacher murdered the lady with a knife and proceeded to dismember the body. After that, she packed the pieces of the victim into a suitcase and dumped her remains in a small town called Yangsan. Currently, the police have no motive for the crime. They released a statement claiming that the perpetrator might be a psychopath. Geez! You think so?

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Anthony Bass is a relief pitcher for the Toronto Blue Jays. He released a statement a couple days ago saying that Christians should boycott Target and Bud Light because of their support of transgender surgery for minors. Well, as you can imagine, the shit really hit the fan. He was attacked online by every libtard in the universe due to his religious beliefs. Anthony had to back down for fear of losing his job. So he is currently apologizing for his intolerance on the issue of sodomy. In fact, he now considers butt-fucking to be a grand idea. I’m glad he saw the light.

The Dragon Lady walked into my room. “You know why I hate you mothah?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. Go ahead and tell me. Why do you hate my mother?”

“Because she twy to contwoh my rife. But she nevah give me da penny.”

“Why do you need her money?”

“Soon, I bloke. It da cwedit cahrd. I not have anyting reft.”

“How much do you owe?”

“I not tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because you not pay. Idiot!”

I briefly felt my asshole clinch tight with anxiety. Yet the sensation soon subsided. My wife has been causing me all types of problems for the last quarter century. In fact, I’m only with her out of pity. I truly don’t know what she’d do without me, but I’m thinking of cutting bait and running. The abuse is never ending. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual. Financial. And there’s only so much a man can take.

I pointed my finger in her face. “If I start getting calls at work over your debt, then we’re through.”

She snarled at me like an animal. “You tink I care? Good. Reave. I not need you. You da roosah. You money small. You not even da man.”

“You’re right. I am a loser. I’ve been losing since the day I met you. So let’s sign the fucking papers and end this disaster.”

I stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me.

I got to work at 8 a.m. and made myself a cup of instant coffee. Then I called a Korean friend of mine who actually works as a lawyer. His name is Jay. Anyway, that’ what his foreign associates call him.

I said, “I hate to ask for free legal advice, but I have a buddy in a tight jam.”

He said, “No problem. I’m glad to help. What’s going on?”

“His wife has a credit card in her own name, and she’s been putting thousands of dollars on the plastic. Is he responsible for the debt?”

“Did he co-sign for the card or act as a guarantor?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? His signature is nowhere to be found on any paperwork?”

“I’m positive.”

“Then tell him to breathe easy. He’s in the clear.”

“This news will be music to his ears. Thanks for your time.”

I hung up the phone and jumped for joy. In fact, I was so ecstatic that I nearly broke down in tears. I shit you not.

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The Korean Race

 

(Feminism and education are killing the Korean peninsula.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty dump. There’s been a huge increase in the number of pregnant women in their 40s here on the peninsula. This late-term motherhood fad is a direct result of feminism. Korean women are some of the most educated females on the entire planet. And the last thing they want to do is weigh themselves down with a man who fails to meet their high standards. So they wait until they are almost half-dead before bearing children. This attitude has put the entire Korean race in huge jeopardy. I shit you not. Nobody is having babies these days. And soon foreigners will have to be imported to keep the nation from collapsing.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A 21-year-old Mexican migrant went to a New York City hospital complaining of pains in her stomach. She emerged from one of the bathrooms covered in blood and immediately left the property. Sadly, a newborn was found in the toilet’s trashcan. But the kid is still alive and kicking. He’s a real fighter. Mom was promptly arrested on the charge of assault. She faces a mountain of prison time in the near future.

Later in the day, the Dragon Lady walked into my room. “I not buy da banana.”

I said, “No bananas? But that’s what I eat for lunch.”

“It not good idea. Da banana go bad. Dey all brack aftah da week. I give you clackah for runch.”

“Crackers for lunch? But I’m on a diet, and I don’t want to backslide.” I pointed my finger at her. “Hand me a few bucks, and I’ll go buy some oranges.”

She shook her head. “Orangee not good. Dis is not light time for orangee. Da fluit is dwy.”

“I don’t care if it’s dry. I’m more interested in the calories.”

“Today, you eat da clackah. And tomollow you have da banana.”

The Dragon Lady hates the fact that I lost fifty pounds. In her mind, she thinks it’s a threat. She sees me as a potential sexy beast who will attract lots of sexual interest from the other females in the neighborhood. Therefore, she prefers me covered in a protective layer of blubber. I’m not kidding. My wife is that crazy.

Anyway, I spent the afternoon watching the Yankees on my computer. They managed to defeat the Padres by a couple of runs. It was a hard-fought victory. They have now won two games in a row. Aaron Judge hit another towering homerun. This makes fifteen on the season.

After that, I viewed a film called Hereditary. It’s a horror masterpiece written and directed by a guy named Ari Aster. I’ve seen it a million times, but it never gets old. It’s one of those movies with lots of hidden Easter eggs. So you have to be hyper vigilant while appreciating this work of art.

Rice-Boy Larry entered my room. “I’m leaving for a few hours.”

I said, “Where are you going?”

“To a soccer match with my friends.”

“A professional game?”

“Yes.”

“How much were the tickets?”

“I got them for free. One of my buddy’s parents is picking up the tab.”

I smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. Free is always music to my ears.”

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The Gospel

(Good people go to hell.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A teacher in Ulsan was accused of verbally abusing his students. He told them that they were acting like a bunch of idiots and criticized their moral upbringing. The parents took him to court for his saucy language. The judge said that he could find nothing criminal regarding the instructor’s behavior. In fact, the judge went on to say that many of the kids in this particular classroom have behavioral problems and deserve to be scolded. For instance, one child is guilty of stabbing his classmate with the pointy end of a pencil.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I browsed the internet. Jane Fonda is blaming climate change on white men. She believes that these villains should be thrown in jail for endangering the lives of women and black folk. But cheap energy is actually a blessing to the world. What would we do without the heat generated by oil? Lots of people would die off within the span of a decade. Jane is the cunt who went to Vietnam and betrayed our troops by supporting the communists. She’s obviously still living in her pampered fantasy world.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “My blood pressure is really good today. It’s 117 over 63.”

I said, “Wow. That’s great. Even mountain climbers would be jealous of that reading.”

“This medicine works wonders.”

“That’s why you got to keep taking it.”

Mom changed the subject. “Are you going to church today?”

I nodded. “I have to. I missed the last two weeks because of illness.”

“Are you walking?”

“No, I’ve decided to take the car. My body still feels like it got hit by a mini-van.”

“Religion has never made anyone a good person.”

“Christianity isn’t a religion.”

“No? Then what would you call it?”

“It’s a group of folk who realize that they are disgusting sinners, and this knowledge breaks them. Then the Holy Spirit appears, telling them the good news about Christ. And that’s when they know that the only way to be accepted by God is through their belief in Jesus. His blood both sanctifies and justifies them.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Good people go to hell. That’s the gospel.”

“Good people go to hell? What kind of shit is that?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s actually pretty simple. There’s no room in the Kingdom for the self-righteous.”

Later that morning, I watched the game between the Celtics and the Heat. It was very exciting. Miami had a one-point lead with three seconds remaining. It looked like they were on their way to the NBA finals. But Boston hit a lucky shot with no time left on the clock. I thought my heart was going to explode right in my chest. Basketball is simply too exciting. I simply can’t handle the ups and downs. Therefore, I prefer baseball.

In the afternoon, I drove to church with Rice-Boy Larry. It was communion. We do it once a month. My pastor was dressed up like a fairy. He was wearing a long black robe and a long red sash. It was all very Roman. His outfit made me uncomfortable. I’m not into human pomp and glory. It turns my stomach. 

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The Boss

 

(Don't you dare piss off the boss.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A man in his 30s went to Jeju Island for a short vacation. It’s the most famous holiday spot in all of Korea. On the plane ride home, he decided to open the aircraft door during the descent. The plane was still 800 feet in the air when he did this. Needless to say, everyone on board went nuts. In fact, eight of them needed to be hospitalized due to sheer fright. The guy said he did it because he wanted to be the first one to disembark upon landing. He’s currently in police custody for his crime.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I browsed my Twitter feed. The former front man for Pink Floyd is an old English pain in the ass named Roger Waters. He recently gave a concert in Germany and came out on the stage dressed in a military uniform. He was also sporting a toy machinegun. Mr. Waters is now being questioned by the police for giving a pro-Nazi performance. The whole situation is utterly ridiculous. Roger might be an annoying geezer who is always pushing his wisdom down the throat of his fans. But he’s definitely not a supporter of Hitler. Then what’s his actual crime? Well, he’s against the war in the Ukraine, and this is rubbing the powers-that-be the wrong way. So they’re flexing their muscles to show him what happens if you criticize the boss.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “Nurse Ken quit his job.”

I sighed heavily. “How does he plan on paying his car note?”

“I’m going to float him until he gets another gig.”

“When will that be?”

“Jobs are falling off the trees over here.”

“Did he give his two-week notice?”

Mom shook her head. “The owner didn’t want it. She simply told him to leave his key. That woman is a real cold-hearted bitch.”

“He’d been working there for years. What the fuck happened?”

“It’s not a huge deal. So don’t act like the sky is falling.”

I nodded. “True. But it just seemed very convenient. The store was so close to your house.”

“Well, what’s done is done.”

I changed the subject. “Has he said anything else about his HESI Exam?”

“We discussed it briefly. He gets the results on Tuesday, and he’ll apply for the nursing program as soon as the results are official. If he gets rejected, then he’s going to get a degree in something else. He already has two years of college under his belt, so it shouldn’t take too long for the bachelor’s.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The Dragon Lady and Rice-Boy Larry went to Costco later that morning. Therefore, I was free to play with the dog and watch TV. The Yankees got their asses kicked again. They’re now in the midst of a three-game losing streak. Nevertheless, I remain a huge fan of baseball, and I’m all about the pinstripes. Watching the sport keeps my blood pressure down.

In the evening, I viewed a movie called Midsommar. I’ve seen it a million times, yet it never fails to capture my complete attention. The director is named Ari Aster, and he’s a film-making genius. He’s also the guy who wrote and directed Hereditary. Both movies come with my highest recommendation. But be careful. They’re the stuff of nightmares.

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Porn Is Predatory

(Viewing hardcore smut is a hard habit to kick.)

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. A 47-year-old woman from Seoul had a young boyfriend who was fifteen years her junior. One night, he went nuts and beat her up. So she reported him to the police, and they questioned the guy for several hours. The suspect was released the next morning under his own recognizance. He went to his apartment and got a knife. And you guessed it. Romeo stabbed his former sweetheart to death with the blade.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news of the world on YouTube. Riley Reid is a famous pornstar. She makes her living by fornicating with strangers on videos seen around the planet. But she’s currently in a fragile emotional state. Her family—including her mother—has completely abandoned her. They steadfastly refuse to even speak with her. Furthermore, Riley recently had a baby, and many of her former fans have said cruel things about the child. I would like to remind my fellow humans that Christians are always allowed to come home no matter what crimes they have committed. So wagging your fingers in the face of a fallen woman isn’t a wise idea. She’s a child of God, too.

When I was a teenager, the most famous naughty actress in the world was Marilyn Chambers. Marilyn was a hot piece of ass, and more than a billion viewers have enjoyed her body over the years. She died alone at a trailer park in California back in 2009. Ms. Chambers didn’t have a dime to her name. That tells you everything you need to know about the porn industry. It’s definitely a predatory business that chews people up and spits them out. I’m doing my best to avoid smut at all costs. Yet it’s not easy. Women are very beautiful, especially when they're naked. Pray for me.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “Nurse Ken told me he’s thinking about writing books just like you.”

I said, “But my career as an author has been a complete failure.”

“He still wants to follow in your footsteps.”

“What? To become a broke loser?”

“You’re not a loser.”

“Well, that’s up for debate.”

She changed the subject. “Ken took his HESI Exam, and now we’re just waiting for the results.”

“When will that be?”

“He should get his scores after Memorial Day.”

“Tell him not to worry one way or the other. If he lays an egg, he can always become a penniless teacher like his daddy.”

“You should give him a call.”

“I will in a week. I don’t want to put any pressure on him. He might think that I’m digging for information.”

“That’s a good idea. He’s a tight ball of stress these days.”

My day at work was complete hell. We had a school fair, and I was in charge of the homerun derby. In other words, I tossed soft pitches to children, and they tried to hit the ball as hard as possible. It wasn’t dangerous. I used a Wiffle ball and a plastic bat. I also sold hot dogs and chips to the hungry masses. Eight hours in the hot sun really sapped my strength. I currently feel like I’ve been dragged through the streets from the back of a pickup truck. I’m in desperate need of rest and relaxation.

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Busy, Busy, Busy

(I have lots of stuff to do.)

Good citizens of Metropolis! I have an important announcement. I'm up to my eyeballs in work, so I won't be able to post today. But have no fear. You can read about my time in China for free. That's right. You don't have to pay a dime. Isn't that exciting? Just click here.

Mom Says the F-Word

 

(My mother's language is atrocious.)

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 dump. The Korean race is about to go extinct. I shit you not. Couples are no longer having children, and most women don’t get married until they are well into their thirties. Everybody is so busy chasing success that family concerns are only a distant second. So the government has decided to tackle this problem by importing thousands of ladies from poor countries to work as nannies for the population. Furthermore, it will be legal to pay these impoverished females below the minimum wage. Yes, their social status will be on par with a slave. What could possibly go wrong?

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news of the world on YouTube. Target has been selling clothing to children with an LGBTQ motif. Naturally, many parents feel that corporate America is grooming their kids in an attempt to normalize the homosexual lifestyle. So in response, they’ve decided to boycott the department store and spend their hard-earned money in family-friendly establishments. Target is now shitting their pants, removing many of the offensive items in an effort to mend fences. This ongoing battle has even prompted Gavin Newsome, the governor of California, to enter the fray. He called Target’s CEO Brian Cornell a sniveling pussy over at Twitter.

I looked at Rice-Boy Larry. “How’s school going?”

He shrugged. “OK, I guess.”

“Have you been giving any thought to a future career?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“You should take my advice and become a pastor. Tuition is really cheap here on the peninsula. Because we’re poor, you probably won’t have to pay a dime.”

“I don’t want to be a pastor.”

“Why not? You speak two languages fluently, so you’ll always have a job.”

“I guess it just isn’t my cup of tea.”

I pointed my index finger at his heart. “I heard that pastors are the happiest people in the world.”

“Are you sure? They seem pretty miserable to me.”

“How so?”

“Every time I see them in the news, they’re embroiled in embarrassing scandals. Look at Jerry Falwell Jr. and his wife Becky. That was wild.”

I nodded in the affirmative. “That Becky is hot to trot. I have still have dreams about that naughty lady.”

“I don’t want to hear about them.”

I drove to work in my ancient SUV. It’s a diesel and might soon be outlawed by the government due to environmental concerns. Korea isn’t like America. The powers-that-be can make you get rid of your car if it’s in the public interest. When that happens, I’ll be reduced to riding the bus like the other geezers who have no money in their pockets. Sometimes, life is so arduous that it’s difficult for a guy to keep his dick up. But I manage. It could always be worse. At least I’m not getting butt-fucked by angry rebels in the Congo.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger during the ride.

She said, “I have a new neighbor.”

I said, “Is he nice?”

“He pissed me off in the morning.”

“What happened?”

She sighed heavily. “I was edging my front lawn with my weed-whacker, and he told me that elderly people shouldn’t work in the sun. Do I look that old?”

“Make Nurse Ken do it.”

“But I like to screw around in my yard. Besides, he’s already cutting the grass. Soon, I won’t be allowed to do anything.”

“That’s not true. America is still a free country. You can edge all you want.”

“I wish that people would mind their own fucking business.”

Truer words have never been spoken. We all have a future date with death. And I’d rather croak while fixing up my lawn than alone at some hospice. But that’s just me.

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The Fruits of the Spirit

 

(Sometimes, I just blow my stack.)

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. Ten years ago, a 55-year-old man from the city of Yang-pyeong forced his way into the apartment of an elderly woman. She was seventy at the time and put up no resistance. Anyway, he told all the neighbors that she was his wife. But he had a different story for a local government welfare center, claiming that he was actually her nephew. They kept to themselves, and nobody ever knocked on the door to check up on the couple. Well, she recently showed up at the police with three broken ribs, stating emphatically that the dude is not her husband. The old lady is now eighty and says that she’s been abused for the last decade by lunatic who broke into her home and simply refused to leave.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news of the world on YouTube. There was a huge investigation into the Roman Catholic Church conducted by the state of Illinois. Thousands of young boys were molested by over three hundred pedophile priests. Sadly, most of the priests died a long time ago, so they will never face charges for their crimes. I have utterly no idea why anybody in their right mind would be a Roman Catholic. In fact, the man in charge of that institution wears a dress, a funny hat, and a pair of ruby slippers. So there’s no way that I’d let my sons go camping with him on the weekends. Yet people keep turning their children over to these wolves in sheep’s clothing with blind faith. I truly don’t understand the psychology behind it.

Rice-Boy Larry walked into my room.

He said, “Dad, I signed up for a field trip the other day.”

I smiled. “Great. Where are you going?”

“To India.”

“What?”

“The school is offering ten days in Mumbai.”

I angrily shook my head. “I’m well aware of that fact. But it’s not free, shit-for-brains. Do you have any idea how much it costs?”

He shrugged. “The whole package is around three thousand dollars.”

I was steaming mad. “That’s right. Three grand, you stupid fuckhead. What? Do you think I crap gold coins out of my asshole?”

“Mom said I could go?”

“Why are you asking her? You know she’s fucking crazy. You got to come to me first with this type of news.”

“No big deal. I’ll just cancel.”

I nodded in the affirmative. “Damn straight you’ll cancel.” I pointed my index finger right at his heart. “You need to get that big watermelon head out of your rectum.”

“It’s just that all my friends are taking the trip. What should I say?”

“I don’t care. But the truth never hurt anybody. Just tell them that your dad is a broke dead dick barely keeping his head above water.”

Rice-Boy laughed and walked away.

My day at work went smoothly. I managed to catch the game between the Nuggets and the Lakers in my downtime. Denver won by two points and completed the sweep of Los Angeles. But you got to hand it to LeBron James, love him or hate him. He’s 38-years-old, and he managed to score 40 points. The man is definitely a gifted athlete.

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Beat the Kids

(It used to be legal in Korea to beat the shit out of your kids.)

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. The Gagnam area of Seoul is the most expensive part of the city. That’s where all the rich fat cats live. Anyway, a girl in middle school was filmed running through this exclusive neighborhood in fear for her life at midnight. She was being chased by her angry father. When pops caught up to her, he gave the child a sound thrashing. To make matters worse, his wife and son also beat the kid with their fists and feet. And what was her crime? She had refused to sign a medical release form. In Korea, it used to be legal to knock the crap out of your children. Now, however, it’s strictly prohibited. Consequently, pops is behind bars awaiting his eventual release. He’s no longer allowed to speak to his daughter.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news on the world on YouTube. The English actor Ray Stevenson died at the age of fifty-eight. He was one of the stars of the hit series Rome which was featured on HBO back in the early 2000s. He also played a homicidal homosexual in the show Dexter. I was a huge fan of Mr. Stevenson. He was everything that I want to be. Huge. Handsome. Rich. Talented. Popular. Unfortunately, I’m just a broke dead dick who lives in South Korea. But unlike Ray, I can still breathe the air while jerking off in the shower. As you can see, I try to remain optimistic no matter what life throws in my direction. And why not? Things could always be worse. I’m just thankful that I wasn’t born in Djibouti.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “Anything new happening in your life?”

She said, “I’m still begging Nurse Ken to cut my grass.”

I said, “Is he working today?”

“No, he’s upstairs studying for the HESI Exam.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Almost six p.m. He said that he’ll be down shortly. The grass is getting really long.”

“I’m sorry that he’s such a son of a bitch. I didn’t raise him that way.”

“He’s not a son of a bitch. He’s just got things on his mind. I told him I’d do the front lawn. All he has to cut is the backyard.”

I sighed heavily. “Are you crazy? You had a stroke recently. You shouldn’t be pushing on a lawnmower in the Texas heat.”

“Bullshit. The doctor says I need exercise. I’m too fat according to him.”

“He probably meant going on short walks and stuff like that. If you stroke out while performing arduous labor, my name will be mud. Sis will blame your death on my son, and she’ll never let me live it down. So please for the sake of God stay away from that lawnmower.”

“You care too much what other people think.”

I nodded. “It’s important to me.”

She finally agreed to my demands. Good for her. It really lowered my blood pressure.

My day at work went well. I’m currently reading a short story with my high schoolers called Under the Lion’s Paw. It’s about rich people taking advantage of the poor and profiting unjustly off their labor. The guy who wrote it was a bit of a communist. Or so it would seem. But I agree to a point with the author’s thesis. The wealthy are always screwing the working class up the ass. That’s how they make their money. 

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Mad Cow Disease

 

(It will eat your brains like Cheerios.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A cow with bovine spongiform encephalopathy was discovered in South Carolina. So the Korean government has decided to ramp up quarantine checks on American beef imports. Instead of inspecting three percent of the meat, the powers-that-be will increase the quota to ten percent. I don’t blame them. Mad cow disease is deadly. It eats your brains like Cheerios. Yet this could potentially have a huge effect on many families. Korean beef is priced through the roof. Most of us on the peninsula simply can’t afford it. American beef, on the other hand, is relatively cheap.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news of the world on YouTube. A deranged transvestite named Andrea Long Chu won the Pulitzer Prize for literary criticism. Andrea was formerly a man, but now she’s a lady who enjoys having sex with attractive chicks. In other words, Ms. Chu cut off her wang and became a lesbian. Welcome to the postmodern age. It’s all rather confusing. Anyway, Andrea says that sissy porn led her to take the plunge into womanhood, claiming that the asshole is a universal vagina through which femaleness can always be accessed. Her words, not mine. Yes, my friends. This is the kind of drivel which will earn you a major award in these sad times.

I could hear Rice-Boy Larry and the Dragon Lady arguing in the living room. So I got out of bed to assess the situation.

I looked at Larry. “What’s all the hubbub about?”

He said, “Mom keeps calling you garbage, and I don’t like it.”

“BFD. She’s been saying that for years. Don’t let it get you down.”

“She also told me that you ruined her life.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

The Dragon Lady said, “You faddah da idiot and da roosah. He make no money. He also da momma boy.”

Larry shot her the stink eye. “I wish you’d just shut up.”

I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Son, would you challenge a man with no legs to a fifty-yard dash?”

“No.”

“Then why are you arguing with a crazy person? It makes no sense.”

My wife sneered at me. “I not clazy. You are da roosah. I not rying. You money shit.”

But I didn’t acknowledge her presence. Instead, I stayed focused on my son. “Mom is a high-conflict personality. And sometimes these loons have what’s called a target of blame. Unfortunately, that person is me. So she’s always going to bash me for anything that goes wrong in her life. It’s too difficult for mental midgets to look in the mirror.”

She furiously shook her fist at me. “Asshoe!”

I stumbled back to my bedroom. This might sound crazy, but I think I caught Covid again. I’m not as sick as I was when I first contracted the disease. Yet I’m exhausted. I’ve been a zombie for the last nine days.

Anyway, I had another one of my recurring nightmares. I was sitting in an internet café when the famous actor, Max von Sydow, took the chair next to mine.

I said, “I loved you in Conan the Barbarian.”

He smiled at me. “Thank you, my friend.”

Then I stood up to buy a Coke. As I passed him, he slapped me right on the ass.

I said, “Hey! What was that about?”

He said, “Sorry, but I couldn’t help myself.”

I nodded solemnly. “No need to apologize. In fact, you’ve just made my dreams come true.”

I woke up around noon and watched baseball. I was too sick to walk to church.

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Looks Matter

 

(It's easier to get a job when you're a hot piece of ass.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. Gucci recently held a wild party in Seoul that continued late into the night. The festivities included loud music and strobe lights. The shindig was held in a glass building, so the debauchery was visible to all the neighbors. The guest list included many celebrities and high-profile businessmen. More than fifty people called the police due to the excessive noise, but the cops never came. No big surprise. Movers and shakers are always given preferential treatment by the-powers-that-be.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news on YouTube. A forty-five-year-old man named Elmo DeSilva is employed as a school janitor in Georgia. He wanted a promotion to head custodian, but he didn’t have a high school diploma. So he took adult education classes after work each evening in order to catch up on his education. Elmo says that he never paid attention to his studies in the past because he had to work to take care of his family. Good for him. It’s important to never give up in life even if you get kicked in the teeth.

The Dragon Lady walked into my room.

She said, “Do you mom have da money?”

I said, “What?”

“Money. I need to fix my tooth.”

“What’s wrong with your tooth?”

“I missing many in da back.”

“I told you a million times. Get your sister to make you some dentures.”

“I not want da denture. I want da imprant.”

“How much is that?”

“Twenty thousand.”

I let out a huge gasp. “Twenty thousand dollars?”

“Yes.”

“My mom’s not giving you twenty grand. Hell, she doesn’t even like you.”

“Den I can’t get da job.”

“Why?”

“Koleans onry want da pletty woman. Nobody hire me. I too old and ugry.”

“Bullshit. You’re very attractive.”

And this is true. My wife is an extremely beautiful woman. Physically speaking. On the inside, however, she’s an ugly twisted dwarf. Anyway, you can’t even see her missing teeth. To the untrained eye, she appears to have a mouth full of choppers. Nobody would know the difference just looking at her.

I said, “There are lots of ugly women working on the peninsula.”

“Where?”

“Coffee shops. Schools. Libraries. Bakeries. Chicken houses. You name the place, there’s a dog behind the counter.”

“Dat not true.”

“It doesn’t matter. My mom doesn’t have that type of cash.”

“Asshoe.”

She turned around and walked away.

I began coughing uncontrollably. I’m still suffering from a stubborn cold. Then I stood up and spit a huge green goober into the toilet. After that, I popped a piece of nicotine gum. I love the stuff. Nicotine makes my brain tingle. It’s a pleasant feeling.

In the afternoon, I caught the game between the Celtics and the Heat. It was a wonderful contest with lots and lots of back-and-forth action. In fact, it was so exciting that I kept using the F-word over and over again. I also punched my pillow on several occasions. Boston lost with minutes remaining. They appeared to choke because of the stress. They simply couldn’t buy a bucket. I don’t blame the players. I would have choked, too.

Before going to bed, I watched a film on Netflix called The Invitation. A black woman gets invited to England to meet her long-lost family. She has no idea that they want her to marry Dracula. This movie completely sucks ass. Don’t waste your time.

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Karen

 

(It turns out that not everyone is a racist.)

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. A two-year-old girl from Seoul was murdered by her mother and stepfather. They basically starved the child to death over a period of months. The poor kid was reduced to eating puppy food from the dog bowl and was once severely beaten for picking through the trash in search of sustenance. Her younger brother was also malnourished. Luckily, he’s now under state care and is on the road to recovery. The scoundrels responsible for this crime were given a thirty-year prison sentence.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news on YouTube. A pregnant New-York-City nurse named Sarah Comrie finished a twelve-hour shift and rented a bike to go home. Then a group of black teenagers began harassing her, claiming the bicycle belonged to them. They even filmed the entire event, and the video went viral. Immediately, the American mainstream media started calling Sarah a white supremacist and an unhinged Karen. Karen, for all of you who have been living under a rock, is a racist term denigrating white women. Anyway, it turns out that Mrs. Comrie was telling the truth and has the receipt to prove it. Sadly, this whole incident was nothing more than another race hoax. Imagine that.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “How are you feeling?”

I said, “Not good. This cold is wearing me to the bone.”

“How long have you had it?”

“This is day seven.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Perhaps it’s Covid.”

“Do you have a fever?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Then it can’t be Covid.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Some of my students have caught the virus more than once. The symptoms aren’t as severe the second time around.”

Mom changed the subject. “The grass in my backyard is getting long.”

I said, “Tell Nurse Ken. He’ll cut it for you.”

“Getting that boy to do anything is like pulling teeth. I asked him to do it tomorrow, but he says I should wait until Monday.”

“Then wait until Monday. It’s no big deal. But the most important thing is to make him do it. You and your husband are too old. I’d never forgive myself if you keel over dead because of yard work.”

“Don’t worry. I’m in no condition to push a mower from hither to yon.”

I drove to work with Rice-Boy Larry sitting next to me in the passenger seat. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he yawned about a million times. He looked completely spent even though it was only 8 a.m. The kid never sleeps. Like many Asian boys, he’s always busy studying or playing computer games. It really grates on my nerves.

I said, “You know that Korean is your first language, don’t you?”

He said, “What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”

I sighed heavily. “You bitch and complain all the time about your Korean class. Yet Korean is your mother tongue.”

“Yes, but I feel much more comfortable with English.”

“Back when you were in first grade, you couldn’t even spell dog. It was embarrassing. Your teacher even yelled at me.”

He shrugged. “So?”

I shrugged, too. “I’m just bringing it to your attention. You’re a fluent Korean speaker whether you like it or not.”

He shot me the stink eye. “You need a psychiatrist. Nothing you say makes any sense at all.”

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Joe Camel

(I used to smoke two packs a day.)

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. A firefighter from the city of Gimhae was driving to work when he noticed a lady sitting on the side of the bridge. She was swallowing pills and had blood dripping down her arms and legs. He pulled over to assist the poor woman and that’s when she tried to jump to her death. Fortunately, he managed to grab her before she could complete the act, and he stayed with her until help arrived. It turns out that she had taken more than twenty sleeping pills and had washed them down with three bottles of soju. She’s currently recovering at the local booby hatch.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news on YouTube. Eric Swalwell is a democrat from California. He’s the guy who had sex with a Chinese spy named Fang Fang. Anyway, Eric claims that former 49ers fullback Bruce Miller is threatening to murder him over at Twitter. And Swalwell is right. Bruce claims in a Tweet that the congressman should be executed for being a fuckin’ traitor. His words, not mine. But here’s the deal. A guy who banged a Chinese operative has no business being on the American intelligence committee. It rubs people the wrong way. In fact, the very thought of it is like waving a red cape in front of an angry bull. And I fear that my country is heading toward a revolution. Perhaps I’m overreacting, but I just feel it in my bones.

The Dragon Lady entered my room.

She said, “Our son glade not good.”

I said, “What?”

“His school glade. It not good.”

“His marks are bad?”

“He onry made da C in ritature and da C-prus in history.”

“But there’s no money in literature or history. How did he do in math and science?”

“He made da A.”

“Well, there you go. Everything is fine. Math is where the money is.”

“But you da Engrish teachah.”

I nodded my head up and down slowly with a sorrowful expression on my fat ugly face. “And just look at me. I don’t even have enough cash to buy a bicycle.”

Yet here’s the straight-skinny truth. I’m simply too old to be Rice-Boy’s father. The child was a wonderful accident. I had coitus without wearing a condom, and—viola!—here he is in all of his glory. I’ve told Larry in the past that I no longer possess the energy to fuss about his marks in school. And there’s nothing I could do even if I had the gumption to be a good daddy. I can’t remember algebra or biology or chemistry, so I’m pretty fucking useless when it comes to academics. Therefore, he will have to handle the load himself.

My day at work went well. The middle schoolers asked me about smoking.

A girl named Sandy said, “Mr. Woodd, what is your opinion about cigarettes?”

I said, “In all honesty, I used to be a heavy smoker back in the day. But times were different when I was growing up.”

“How so?”

“My high school actually had a smoking area. I would get off the bus at 7 a.m. every morning and run to the cafeteria. After that, I would purchase two Hostess cherry pies and a big can of Hawaiian Punch. Then it was time for a Joe near the dumpsters.”

“A Joe?”

“Yes, my brand of choice was Camel filters. The mascot was Joe Camel. My friends and I were huge fans of his.”

“Wait. He was an actual camel?”

I smiled at her. “That’s right. A cartoon camel.”

“Man, talk about messed up.”

I sighed heavily. “Even so, I miss those days.” 

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Shithole America

 

(Is the United States turning into a third-world cesspool?)

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 dump. The Korea Times interviewed a fuckhead from Harvard named Jeffrey Miron. He teaches economics at that overrated shithole in Boston, Massachusetts. Anyway, Jeffrey said that the opioid crisis in America could have been avoided if the government hadn’t cracked down so harshly on the medical clinics and pharmaceutical companies. As you remember, they were handing out Oxycontin like candy to the zombies back in the day. Dr. Miron concluded his interview by urging Korean law enforcement not to be too draconian when it comes to the illegal use of narcotics on the peninsula.

I couldn’t disagree more. The Korean government has a zero-tolerance policy for drugs. And if you decide to snort cocaine or smoke weed, then you’re going to prison. This makes me extremely happy as a father. I never worry about whether Rice-Boy Larry is going to die from an overdose. Sadly, the same can’t be said for Nurse Ken. Now that he lives in the United States, my life has been a nightmarish festival of fear. A kid can take a hit off a joint in the morning and be dead by the afternoon because it was laced with poison. In fact, I often wish I could go back in time. Knowing what I know now, I would never have shipped my oldest boy off to America in a million years. It’s a glorified third-world cesspool.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I listened to the news on YouTube. A ten-year-old boy from Georgia was found searching for food in his neighborhood. He only weighed thirty-six pounds. The police arrived, and the child begged the officers not to make him go back home. It turns out that his mother and father have been slowly starving him to death. But that’s not all. The poor child also has bruises and crooked teeth from all the beatings he’s been forced to endure. There’s a lot of evil in this world, and I simply laugh at people who tell me that Satan doesn’t really exist.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “How come you’re in bed?”

She said, “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s the problem?”

“My doctor upped my dose of Lexapro to 20 mgs a day.”

“Wow, are you that depressed?”

She shook her head. “I’m not depressed at all.”

“So why are you taking crazy pills?”

“They are supposed to be effective for victims of stroke.”

“Maybe you should call your doctor and tell him how you’re feeling.”

“I will. But I’m going to give it a couple of days first. Maybe my body will adapt.”

“Well, I’m praying for you.”

Mom changed the subject. “Your sister has shingles.”

“Shit! That’s painful.”

“She also has irritable-bowel syndrome.”

“Damn! That’s no fun, either.”

“What do you think is the cause?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Probably her job. Stress is eating her up.”

My sister is a public-school teacher in America. It’s a terrible way to earn a living. I did it for five years until I eventually escaped to save my sanity. Along with being abused by the children, you’re often forced to take your lumps from the leadership (principal and assorted vice principals) and the other members of the staff, including the secretaries, the janitors, and the kitchen crew. I shit you not. It’s an existence filled with unbearable psychic pain.

My day at work went well. During my downtime, I managed to catch the game between the Lakers and the Nuggets. It was very exciting. But all that nervous energy nearly gave me a heart attack. That’s why I prefer baseball. It’s boring in a good sort of way.

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