Existentialism

 

(My son is turning into a zombie.)

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. There was an editorial in the Korea Times by a man named Steven L. Shields. He says that there are way too many churches on the peninsula. He also claims that most of us are too stupid to read the bible properly because we don’t understand the metaphorical nature of the book. Basically, according to Mr. Shields, the bible is comprised of stories that are a bunch of crap.

And I don’t fault Steven for his opinion. Far from it. That would make me a hypocrite because I also used to doubt the veracity of God’s Word. But it was Jesus himself who changed my mind. The Savior refers to the Old Testament over and over again in the gospels. He certainly acknowledges the existence of Moses and Abraham and Isaac and Jacob. So if Christ is all-in when it comes to the scripture, then so am I. Any other position on the matter would be foolhardy. Like Jesus says, it’s important to build our houses upon a firm foundation so that they don’t get washed away during a flood.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news on the internet. John Durham’s report about the 2016 Russian-collusion story was finally released for the public to see. And the results are pretty much what we expected. The FBI and the mainstream media colluded to promote a fake report with the intention of getting Orange Donald removed from office. No big surprise.

The best thing about Trump’s presidency is that we can no longer deny the existence of a deep-state cabal trying to control American politics. The doubters can scoff all they want. However, anyone with a lick of sense knows that there are evil men lurking in the shadows at the hallowed halls of Washington D.C.  Just ask JFK. Wait! You can’t. They blew his brains out.

I looked at Rice-Boy Larry. “How do you like your English teacher?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have a favorite subject?”

He shrugged again. “They all seem so pointless.”

“Pointless? What are you? Some type of lame-brained existentialist?”

“What’s an existentialist?”

“It’s a guy with an advanced degree who pisses and moans all the time.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s just that I’m never going to use any of this stuff in my life.”

“Well, you’re planning on going to college, right?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Then you’ll have to use it. You need to know English and math and science in order to get a degree.”

“I guess so.”

Rice-Boy gets more and more zombified with each passing day. Yet he only puts on the silent routine when he’s talking to me. I often hear him in his room screaming and laughing with his friends over the computer. And many nights he doesn’t return to the apartment until 10 p.m. because he’s out having a good time with his buddies. Yet he can’t spare two words for his old man. It makes me a little melancholy. He’s getting older, and my importance in his life is slowly diminishing.

My day at work went well. I’m reading a new tale with the middle school children. It’s called American History, and it’s about a little Puerto Rican girl who has a crush on a white boy. The boy’s mother goes crazy and quickly puts an end to the budding romance. She even moves into a new neighborhood to get away from her brown neighbors.

Many fun stories are written by libtards. But what can you do? When the stuff is good, it’s good. Politics has nothing to do with it.

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