The Korean Dream

 

(Lots of young foreigners are moving to Korea.)

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. Lots of students are coming from all over the world to study at Korean universities. And the government is encouraging international kids to attend these colleges because birthrates on the peninsula are the lowest in the world. In other words, there simply aren’t enough Koreans to fill the classroom rosters. But there’s a problem. After completing their degrees, these youngsters are promptly shipped back to their owns countries. They dream about creating a life in the ROK, but the current visa system simply won’t allow it. So they spend several years learning the language only to have their dreams crushed against the shoals of reality. Boo hoo.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news on the internet. Tucker Carlson is about to make his grand reentry onto the global stage. To that end, he will now do his show on Twitter. This is glad tidings for kooks like me. I’ve never been a huge fan of Fox. It’s filled with neocons, fuckheads, and retards. Just look at Jesse Watters. That dude has the IQ of an onion. And let’s not forget Sean Hannity. Every time I tune into his program, he’s busy licking Lindsey Graham’s asshole. It will be nice to enjoy Tucker without supporting the other clowns on the network. Praise Jesus.

I drove to work with Rice-Boy Larry in the passenger seat of my SUV. We struck up a conversation along the way.

He said, “Mom yelled at me last night.”

I said, “Really? Where was I?”

“You were at the study room, working your second job.”

I nodded. “That’s right. I completely forgot.”

I recently took a second gig to pay for my nicotine gum. I sell chips and soda at a study room to exhausted teenagers who are busy doing their math and English homework. Don’t feel bad for me. It’s easy stuff. I basically just sit there and view the basketball playoffs on my laptop computer.

I said, “Why is she pissed off?”

He said, “She claims that American granny is screwing me out of my inheritance. Mom said that I should demand to be placed in Granny’s will.”

“Well, it’s the old lady’s money, so she’ll do what she wants with it.”

“That’s what I told her. I don’t even want Granny’s cash. I’m not some greedy son of a bitch. But mom’s crazy. She never shuts the fuck up.”

“Son, truer words have never been spoken. However, try not to get caught up in self-pity. You live in a nation with food security. Plus our apartment is warm during the cold winter months.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Things could always be worse. Just thank the Lord that you weren’t born in Djibouti.”

My day at work went well. I’m currently studying Seven Types of Ambiguity with the high school children. The story was written by Shirley Jackson. She’s the same woman who penned The Haunting of Hill House. Netflix created a pretty good series based upon the novel. Check it out if you have the time.

One of the boys raised his hands. “We are reading The Lottery in another class. That’s also by Shirley Jackson.”

“Yes, it’s her most famous tale. Yet I’m not a huge fan. There’s simply not enough dialogue in that particular tale. Stories without lots of dialogue vex me.”

“You’re easily vexed, aren’t you, Mr. Woodd?”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. I always have a bee in my bonnet.”

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