Crime in South Korea

 

(White people can safely go about their business.)

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 dump. Jindo-gun is a small rural village in South Jeolla Province. Foreigners from southeast Asia live there to do the shit work that Koreans won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Anyway, two drunk Korean men chased a Vietnamese woman down the road after she left a convenience store. They broke into her house and proceeded to beat up her husband.  The cops were called to the scene, but the suspects were released without any consequences. And there’s an important lesson to be learned from this incident. Not all the cities and towns on the peninsula are as open-minded as Seoul. Expats are still treated like dogs in many backwater locations. With that said, white people are usually left to their own devices. For some reason, the criminal element fears our pale skin.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched Fox News. Former heavyweight champion Deontay Wilder was cruising around Hollywood in his Rolls Royce and smoking weed. Eventually, he was pulled over by the cops because his windows were tinted too darkly, and the officers soon smelled marijauna emanating from the vehicle as they approached his luxury car. After a quick search, they found a 9 mm pistol. The champ was promptly arrested but had no trouble making bail. No big surprise. He’s richer than God, after all. Wilder refused to apologize for his crime. Instead, he sent out a Tweet saying that it’s better to be safe than sorry. What can I tell you? I agree wholeheartedly.

The Dragon Lady looked at me. “You have to sign da tax papah.”

I nodded. “OK. No big deal.”

“Maybe I go post office today. But maybe not. Da sky is angly. It might lain soon.”

“That’s all right. We have until July.”

“But it take two month for da papah to alive in Amelica.”

“The IRS doesn’t look at it that way. Everything depends on the postmark. But it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Why it not mattah?”

“I’m so poor that I don’t owe a dime.”

She smirked. “You da fuken losah.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Yes and no. Financially, I’m certainly no Jamie Dimon. But Jesus Christ loves me, so there is no point in bitching about my life.”

She gave me an evil giggle. “Jesus not ruv you. You go hell.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going to hell. In fact, the king of the universe is my good friend, and he’s going to snatch me from the flood.”

Which is the God’s honest truth. Sometimes, I feel like one of the luckiest bastards on the planet. There’s a lot more to life than hoarding gold and driving a Rolls Royce. My treasure is stored in the Kingdom of Heaven. Consequently, the Dragon Lady and all her ilk can go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut.

Rice-Boy Larry stepped into the living room. He had a backpack strapped to his shoulders. It appeared to weigh 500 pounds.

I said, “How did you do on your tests?”

“All right.”

“Do you think you made A’s?”

“Probably.”

“Do you have more tests today?”

“Two of them. Social studies and English.”

“Are they difficult?”

“Not really.

It’s not easy talking to Larry. He’s a man of few words. In fact, I could have a better conversation with a racoon. When my mother dies, I’ll be the loneliest man in the world.

I drove to work and was almost flattened by a huge dump truck. I shouted the f-word over and over again. When it comes to crime, Seoul is the safest city on the face of the earth. However, lots of people die in traffic accidents. But what can you do? Nobody gets out alive.

(Give my message board a try.)