Family Stress

 

(Mom is upset because her grandson is a dullard.)

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. There’s a bar in Seoul called The Rabbit Hole Arcade Pub. You can go there and watch transvestites shake their asses as you sip on cocktails. The owner of the establishment is a queer Korean. He says that conservative Christians have never bothered him or his customers since day one. He’s free to do what he wants as long as it is within the boundaries of the law. And this man is the type of homosexual that I like. He minds his own business, and he doesn’t wave his cock in the faces of innocent children. If the citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah had shown the same kind of good manners and restraint, then God would have spared these ancient cities. Bully for him.

I ate hash browns for breakfast and surfed the internet. The big story in America involves affirmative action. The Supreme Court has ruled that Asians are getting fucked royally when it comes to university admissions. The justices now claim that race can no longer play a factor in keeping people out of prestigious schools like Harvard. Most of the mainstream media is trying to turn this into a black vs. white issue. But nothing could be further from this truth. This helps the yellow man achieve all his academic dreams. Look out Stanford! Mr. Yoo and Ms. Kim are on their way to town.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “Ken’s damn cats keep pissing on my sofa.”

I said, “I thought they used a litterbox.”

“Normally, they do. I have no idea why they’re acting like this.”

“Have you cleaned it recently?”

“Cleaned what?”

“The litterbox.”

She smiled. “I haven’t even checked. But I bet you’re right. That’s supposed to be your son’s job.”

“Is my boy giving you a hard time?”

Mom paused for a moment. “He’s decided that he doesn’t want to be a nurse anymore.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“So does he have any future plans?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, he could switch his major to education and come to Korea. Lots of places will hire him. But he’ll have to do 18 months of mandatory military service.”

“He wants nothing to do with Korea.”

I sighed heavily. “Maybe there’s a bright side to his change of plans. He has an associate’s degree, and that might be good enough.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that. He needs to finish his education.”

“But it is finished…in a sense. He has a piece of paper claiming that he’s educated beyond high school. This might get him through a few doors in the future.”

“I just don’t see it that way.”

I smiled at her. “Higher education is a huge rip off. It’s necessary if you are going to be an engineer or a doctor. But getting a degree in political science or English is pretty much worthless.”

“What’s he going to do with his life?”

I pointed my finger in her face. “The world is his oyster. He’s young and healthy and somewhat educated. Do you know what a district manager at Waffle House makes including his commission and other perks?”

She frowned. “I haven’t the foggiest?”

“Over a hundred grand a year. That’s good fucking money.”

“You can get that gig with two years of college?”

“Not right away. But if he shows up to work on time with a positive attitude, then the sky’s the limit. I envy him. Don’t be such a Debbie Downer.”

And what I’m saying is the gospel truth. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Plus worldly success isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. It certainly won’t get you into the Kingdom of heaven.

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Sylvia Plath

(Sylvia had a tough life.)

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. A foreigner wrote an op-ed bemoaning the fact that Koreans aren’t nice to the homosexual community. She says that gay folk are often physically abused by the nation’s conservative Christians. But I have to call bullshit on her claims.

The peninsula is one of the safest countries in the world and is almost completely devoid of street crime. And this level of security also extends to the sodomites. I’ve been living here for over a decade, and never once have I seen a fairy get stomped. Now, with that said, I wouldn’t go out and French kiss my boyfriend in public--which is just plain old common sense. It’s always best to perform your debauchery within the privacy of your own home. You can protest all you want. But if the citizens of Sodom had followed this sound advice, God wouldn’t have nuked their city.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. The Netherlands in now euthanizing autistic people and retards. I shit you not. You could have knocked me over with a feather. This behavior is right out of Adolf’s playbook. One recorded case includes a Dutch woman in her 30s who was afflicted both with autism and borderline personality disorder. She told a board of physicians that she couldn’t form meaningful connections with other humans, so they zapped her for her own good. How disgusting is that? On the other hand, maybe I could send the Dragon Lady to this nation for a short vacation. It’s certainly worth a second look.

My day at work went well. I’m currently reading a short story by Sylvia Plath called Initiation. It’s about a pretty teenager who wants to join a high school sorority. I didn’t even know that sororities existed for young girls. I always thought it was more of a college thing.

I said, “Sylvia had quite the life. She was smart and beautiful and talented. Plus she got all of her education for free at swanky universities.”

This piqued everybody’s interest. My students dream about attending the Ivy League.

One girl raised her hand. “Where did she go to school?”

“Sylvia got her bachelor’s from Smith. And then she went to Cambridge for her graduate degree.”

“I’ve never heard of Smith.”

I nodded. “I guess it’s not world famous. But it’s highly regarded in America and is located in the state of Massachusetts. Smith is a female university that costs a bazillion dollars to attend. It attracts wealthy liberal feminists who like to complain about income inequality.”

She wrote the name of the school in her notebook. I could see the wheels in her head moving about a million miles per hour.

I said, “Are you thinking of applying?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Well, it didn’t work out too well for poor Ms. Plath.”

A look of alarm crossed her face. “Why? What happened?”

“She married a guy named Ted Hughes. Ted was a womanizer.”

“He was a professor at Smith?”

I shook my head. “No. Ted was a famous poet from England.”

“Did she divorce him?”

I shook my head again. “Sylvia stuck her head in the oven and killed herself by inhaling the gas. Her children were in their bedrooms when she murdered herself.”

She shot me a weak smile. “You’re always such a downer.”

“True. But the story actually gets worse. Ted married another woman named Assia Wevill. She committed suicide, too. But before she died, she also killed the child they had together. The kid’s name was Shura.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes. Absolutely awful. But there’s a lesson behind these tragedies.”

“And what’s that?”

I paused for dramatic effect. “Sometimes, you might think you have it all when all you really have is a big fat nothing.”

Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, my friends. Because the only true losers are the ones who spend eternity burning in a lake of fire. And don’t try to argue. These words come straight from the king.

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Pathetic Human Being

 

(I need to make some serious changes.)

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. Two doctors in Seoul were arrested for prescribing fentanyl patches to a 30-year-old drug addict. This junkie would jump from hospital to hospital in a quest for painkillers. He managed to accumulate over 7,500 doses of the drug before the cops intervened. Narcotics are a huge issue here on the peninsula. The current president is cracking down on dealers, but his policy is a double-edged sword. For instance, I had a series of root canals a few years back, and all the dentist gave me for my discomfort was Tylenol. I couldn’t sleep because of the agony and prayed to God for a Percocet. Yet I was forced to grin and bear the physical burden.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A guy from New York named Patrick Proefriedt got into an argument with his wife. So he went to his room and retrieved his crossbow. Then he fired a bolt at the lady in an attempt to kill her. Unfortunately, she was holding their three-week-old daughter at the time, and the arrow pieced the poor baby in the chest before impaling the mother. The child died instantly, but the woman is currently recovering in the hospital. Mr. Proefriedt is now in custody and will spend the rest of his life in prison.

I balled up a sock and started playing with Dolly the dog. She’s a big fan of fetch.

The Dragon Lady sneered at me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m having fun with the pooch.”

“Stop it.”

“Why?”

“It too earwy to pray.”

“Too early to play? What kind of crap is that?”

“It not cwap. It twue.”

I smiled at her. “You’re a sadist, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re not happy unless I’m in pain.”

And my words were not hyperbole. I live in a house of horrors. As soon as I get home, I’m forced to wash my feet and hands as she vacuums furiously to clean up my filth. Then I change into my jammies and walk gingerly to my room. After that, I sit alone and watch Netflix until I eventually fall asleep. We haven’t shared the same bed in more than a decade, and we have sex about once or twice a year. Which begs this question: Am I some type of a twisted masochist? Seriously. I ain’t kidding. Only a retard would endure that type of bullshit. What? Do I enjoy getting tortured? Maybe I’m the one who is all fucked up in the head.

I said, “Let’s get a divorce. In two weeks, I’ll have some time off work.”

My wife grinned at me like an evil jack-o-lantern. “You tink you have da fun? You eat da chicken and dwink da beer? Dats what you tink?” She let out an evil peel of laughter. “I make you rife hell. You watch and see. Soon, it my tawn.”

“Your turn for what?”

“I not tell you. But you see. And it not good. You destwoy my rife. And now I destwoy you rife.”

I sighed heavily. “How have I destroyed your life? I’ve been nothing but kind to you.”

She shrugged. “It not mattah. Kolea berongs to me. No you. You onry da strangah. Good ruck, asshoe.”

Then she laughed again and walked away.

And that, my friends, is how I live. I’m a pathetic human being.

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Fuck Jesse Watters

 

(Tucker Carlson has been replaced by a dullard with nice hair.)

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. It’s now the monsoon season here in Korea, and Seoul is getting drenched by heavy rain. Supposedly, we’re currently being slammed with over 100 millimeters of rain. But your beloved narrator isn’t hip to the metric system, so I’m not even sure if that’s a serious amount of precipitation. However, I will tell you this. I feel like Noah at the beginning of the flood. The skies are angry and the thunder is clapping, and soon I fear I shall be washed away into the gutter by this endless deluge of water. I’ll just leave it at that.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Fox News has decided to promote Jesse Watters to Tucker Carlson’s old timeslot. This makes me want to puke. Jesse is a handsome moron with beautiful hair, so the horny housewives will love him. But his IQ is extremely low, and he truly has nothing to say. I’ve seen him from time to time on The Five, and this dullard is as bland as a saltine cracker without jelly. Therefore, I view his promotion as a slap in the face to intelligence. Bottom line? I’ll never watch Fox News again. Fuck you, Jesse Watters, and fuck the horse you rode in on.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “How’s your wife doing?”

I said, “OK. She’s actually in a good mood this morning.”

“Really? Is she being nice to you?”

I shrugged. “She hasn’t called me a cunt so far. To me, that’s a good day.”

Mom laughed and laughed. “Wow. That’s disgusting. She doesn’t actually talk that way. You’re exaggerating.”

I shook my head. “I wish I was. I’ve been called every dirty word in the book in three languages. English. Korean. And Japanese.”

She changed the subject. “My blood pressure is a little high.”

“What is it?”

“146.”

“Is that bad?”

“Well, it’s not good. I think it’s because I have an eye infection.”

“Did you call your doctor?”

“No. I can’t be bothered. I went and got some medicine from the pharmacy.”

I shot her a dirty look and waved my finger in front of her face. “You can’t do that! You just had a stroke for Christ’s sake. You must visit a professional. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“But it takes forever to get an appointment. Maybe I’ll go to the emergency room if it gets too bad.”

Mom’s got good health insurance. Yet she is often forced to wait a month or more before her preferred physician has an open slot to see her. In the past, I’ve told her to find a solid doctor who is less popular than her favorite. However, she swears by this guy. He’s a handsome man from Cuba, and this turns her on for some strange reason.

So I decided not to argue. After all, there’s no point in beating a dead horse.

My day at work went OK. I am reading a story with the middle school called The Interlopers. It was written by a guy named Saki. The tale is about two enemies who get trapped under a huge tree branch. While immobile and injured, they both agree to become friends. However, their new friendship ends abruptly when they are both eaten by wolves.

I said, “Who’s seen the movie Frozen?”

They all raised their hands.

I said, “What did Else sing?”

They screamed this in unison: “Let It Go!”

“That’s right. And it’s great advice. We all have a date with the grave, so we shouldn’t hold on to grudges.”

My friends, I’m certainly no genius. That’s why I rely on God for my wisdom. Like Christ said, you’ll be judged by the same measure that you judge others. So be very careful, or you’ll end up in the lake of fire.

Working Out

 

(Robert Kennedy is built like a brick shithouse.)

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. Koreans spend more on academic tutors for their children than they pay for food and housing. I find this stat hard to believe, but that’s what my favorite newspaper claims. With that said, practically every parent on the peninsula sends his child to after-school academies. The rugrats attend these institutes to improve their math and English skills. Sometimes, they don’t return home until midnight or later. Lots of Asian folk take education way too seriously. They would poison your coffee to get Junior into Harvard. I shit you not.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Democratic hopeful Robert Kennedy is completely covered in muscles. The old geezer is nearly seventy years old, but he’s sporting huge biceps and an impressive six pack. In one crazy video, he can be seen pumping out pushups like a kid in his twenties.  I find him to be a physical inspiration. I’m in my 50s, and I have a hard time getting off the sofa. So maybe it’s time to start hitting a gym. With the help of steroids, I might be able to transform myself into an ancient Adonis. Perhaps my new physique will help me get pussy. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “My wife wants you to give her twenty grand.”

Mom cackled like a witch. “Twenty grand? That’s all? Why not ask for a million dollars?”

“She’s thirty-five thousand in debt. She really went to town with the credit cards.”

“Not my problem. Tell her to go out and get a job.”

I changed the subject. “I saw a weird movie last night. It’s called Beau Is Afraid. The film was directed by the same guy who made Hereditary.”

“Is it fantastic?”

“Which one? Beau Is Afraid or Hereditary?”

“Beau is Afraid. I already know how you feel about Hereditary. You never shut up about it.”

I smiled at her. “I’m not really sure. The movie was Kafkaesque.”

“And is that good or bad?”

“In general, I enjoy reading Kafka, but strangely enough I hate art that is Kafkaesque.”

“So you’re giving it a thumbs down?”

I shrugged. “I’ll have to watch it a few more times and get back to you. I’m simply not that bright whereas the director might be a genius.”

She sighed heavily. “He’s not a genius, and don’t sell yourself short. You’re a smart man.”

“How do you know that he isn’t a genius?”

“Because geniuses do great stuff like fly men to the moon or invent pills which save millions of lives. They don’t waste their time making Kafkaesque films for snooty assholes.”

Mom has never been a huge fan of art. In fact, her idea of living large is viewing a James Bond marathon featuring the late great Sean Connery. Yet everybody is entitled to their own opinion.

I went to church in the afternoon. Rice-Boy Larry stayed home, so I had to go by my lonesome. My son is turning into a real pagan. I was disappointed to learn that many people are leaving our congregation. They’re returning to their homelands or getting jobs in other cities. The news also hit the pastor pretty hard. He’s attributing their departure to his lackluster sermons. Trust me. He’s no ball of fire, but his preaching seems to follow sound doctrine. I try not to complain. Things could always be worse. At least I wasn’t born in Djibouti.

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Bankrupt

 

(The Dragon Lady is buried in debt.)

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. Two old geezers from the city of Gwangju decided to kill an afternoon by gambling for money. So they sat in an empty container box and played a traditional Korean game called yutnori for cash. The loser became very unhappy and threw gasoline on the winner. Then he set the poor prick on fire. The victim died of his injuries four months later. And here’s the kicker. The perpetrator of this crime collected over $6,000 because his burnt-up buddy had written him into the will.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Meatball Ron is in a little bit of trouble after offending the libtards. The governor from Florida explained to a news reporter why baseball is his favorite sport. DeSantis believes that the NBA is filled with athletic freaks, and therefore he simply can’t relate to those who dribble and dunk for a living. Conversely, the MLB features players who look like normal people whom you might meet in a grocery store. For his comments, he was called a racist by the talking heads in the mainstream media. For the record, I’m a huge fan of both the NBA and the MLB. Watching athletes ply their trade is by far my favorite hobby.

The Dragon Lady walked into my room. “Soon, I go bankwupt.”

I nodded. “OK.”

“I owe da tirty-fie tousand dollah.”

I nodded again. “Thirty-five grand. That’s a lot.”

“I can’t pay.”

“Sorry.” I paused for dramatic effect. “But have you thought about getting a job? You could probably pay it all off in two or three years.”

She shook her head forlornly. “Kolea not rike rady my age.”

“So you’re saying that you’re too old to get a job?”

“Yes. Too owd. Maybe you muthah give me twenty tousand. Den I get da job.”

“My mom doesn’t have twenty grand. She’s house poor.”

“Den what I do?”

I sighed heavily. “It seems you have three choices. Go to work. Go bankrupt. Or jump out the window.”

I felt deep regret upon speaking these words. Lots of Koreans kill themselves every year, and their preferred method of suicide is leaping from a great height. Don’t get me wrong. I hate the Dragon Lady with an all-consuming passion. Yet I don’t want to see her come to any sort of physical harm.

I said, “I was just joking about that jumping out the window comment. It’s only money. It’s certainly isn’t worth your life.”

My wife shot me the stink eye. “You da mutha-fucka”

Even though it was Saturday, I was forced to drive to work. This is my busy season, and I had a stack of papers on my desk that needed to be graded. The academic year is pretty much over, yet I still have many i’s to dot and t’s to cross. You know how it goes. The bullshit never ends.

Sitting at my desk, I had to fight back the tears. I frequently toil like a coolie, but nothing ever seems to go my way. However, I soon realized that self-pity is fucking worthless. Lots of people have it far worse than me. Right now as I scribble this drivel, some poor asshole is getting butt fucked in prison by street thugs. My point? Things could always be worse.

With that said, I need an action plan. I have to get away from this woman before she kills me. The drama never ends, and I desperately need a little peace before I die.

Busy, Busy, Busy

(I am often busier than a beaver.)

Good citizens of Metropolis. It's me. Your fearless leader. Unfortunately, I am loaded with stacks upon stacks of work today, so I simply don't have the time to write a post. But have no fear. I'll be back before you know it. In fact, why not take the time to buy a book? They're on sale for less than a dollar. Just click here to get the details.

Extraterrestrial Intelligence

 

(What if the aliens are actually demons?)

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 percent of Korean teenagers have been high on painkillers. Of this number, most of them got stoned after being administered fentanyl patches by their physicians. However, some are using the drugs illicitly. On top of that, the youth of the peninsula are drinking more than ever. And who can blame them? School stress permeates this land like a cancer, and a bottle of soju is less than two dollars. But there is some good news to report. Smoking amongst minors has taken a precipitous nosedive. Tobacco seems to be off the menu.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A group of wealthy men commandeered a tiny submarine and dove it under the icy waters of the Atlantic to get a glimpse of the Titanic. Unfortunately, something went horribly wrong, and the vessel experienced a catastrophic implosion. I have no what the fuck that means exactly, but it isn’t good. All of the guys were apparently blown to kingdom come. Needless to say, there are no survivors from this accident. People on the internet are making fun of the victims because of their money. Yet I find this distasteful. Plus I don’t hate rich folk. They are doomed to die just like the rest of us.

I drove to work in my ancient SUV. Rice-Boy Larry was in the passenger seat. We struck up a conversation as I sped down the freeway.

I said, “You and your buddies might be the final generation before the return of Christ.”

He shot me the stink eye. “What are you on about now?”

“Just hear me out before you call me crazy. Your generation is going to have the chance to see something both terrifying and glorious at the same time.”

“Christ’s return?”

I nodded. “Well, that’s just the start of it. I think we’re being slowly groomed to accept the notion of extraterrestrial intelligence. When you get older, don’t be surprised if the entire planet is taken over by so-called aliens. I'll probably be dead by then. They will come in peace and offer humanity both bread and circuses. But try not to fall for the bullshit. These are malevolent creatures.”

“Aliens are malevolent? And just how would you know that?”

“The strong always dominate the weak. Besides, I don’t really think these creatures are from another solar system.”

“Then what exactly are they?”

“Demons. And they will usher in a one-world government, and the vast majority of the global population will take the bait with a smile on their faces and a song in their hearts. And why the fuck not? This government will come with free food and nice digs. It’s going to be very hard to say no.”

He chuckled at me derisively. “So the spacemen are actually fallen angels?”

“That’s correct. And it won’t be long until they start wiping out the believers in the one true God. It’s going to be a slaughter.”

Larry sighed heavily. “Please keep this nonsense a secret between us. I don’t want the world to know that my father is a kook.”

I didn’t let his nasty attitude get in the way of my little speech. “I’ll more than likely be dead before the arrival of these wolves in sheep’s clothing. But remember my words of wisdom. Don’t accept their government cheese. Make no mistake. It’s the mark of the beast.”

My son looked at me with pity in his eyes. “Get help, Dad.”

I popped a piece of nicotine gum into my mouth and chewed it like a madman.

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Killing the Children

(Only a nut would slaughter their own flesh and blood.)

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 woman in her 30s from Suwon gave birth in 2018 and 2019. She killed both her children right after they were conceived and placed their bodies in her refrigerator. She blamed the murders on her poverty. But we all know the truth. This woman is thoroughly corrupted by sin and mental illness. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not making excuses for her actions. She belongs in prison and should be subjected to hard labor for the rest of her life. Yet only a nut would perform such crazy acts upon her own flesh and blood.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A disturbed father from Ohio got angry at his young sons. So he lined them up in the backyard and shot them to death with a rifle. The kids were only seven, four, and three years old. He also put a bullet in his wife. However, she is expected to make a full recovery. The crime was discovered when a passing motorist noticed a girl running in panic down the street. She told the driver that her dad was in the process of slaughtering the family. He immediately called the cops, and the murderer was captured without a fight.

I took the elevator to the parking garage with Rice-Boy Larry by my side.

I said, “I can’t believe the parking spot I got last night.”

“It was good?”

“Good? That would be an understatement. Maybe it’s the best in the entire complex. I’m so shocked. It’s like Jesus was smiling upon me.”

“Why are you surprised?”

I smiled at him. “Son, I didn’t get home until 10 p.m., and we live in Seoul. You know how crowded this city is. It’s a sprawling Asian metropolis. Shit! I thought I’d be sleeping on the side of the road.”

We got out of the elevator and walked into the bright sunshine.

I pointed at my ancient SUV. “There she is in all her glory.”

“Wow, that is a great spot. Right next to the handicapped section.”

Parking next to the handicapped section is always a boon. It provides more space for a fat man to open the passenger-side door, and get in and out of his automobile comfortably.

We drove to work in silence. Along the way, I tried to call my mother using Facebook Messenger. However, she didn’t respond.

I said, “I hope the old lady is all right.”

But Larry didn’t say a word. His eyes were closed, and drool was running down his chin. The boy usually doesn’t sleep until two a.m. in the morning. He’s a real night owl.

I got to my room at 8 a.m. and tried calling her again. This time, she answered.

Mom said, “Sorry. I fell asleep and left the phone in my purse.”

I shrugged. “No big deal. I just like to keep in touch to make sure that everyone is still breathing oxygen.”

She laughed out loud. “Don’t worry. We’re all doing well.”

My day at work went OK. I am now reading a story called Regret by Kate Chopin with my high schoolers. It’s about an old lesbian who never had children. As fate has it, she is forced to spend a few days watching her neighbor’s offspring, and she quickly grows attached to them. She howls like a jilted cheerleader at the end of the tale when the rugrats are returned to their mother. Good stuff. 

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Breast Cancer

 

(Christina Applegate is a real trooper.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a huge glass of generic cola. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. The city of Seoul is dotted with coffee shops. In fact, you can’t throw a rock without hitting one by accident. Lots of people like to frequent these establishments to work and study in the evenings and weekends. However, certain customers are a huge pain in the ass. They milk their cups of Joe for hours and hours, taking up way too much space. In other words, the owners aren’t making any profit because of these deadbeats. And my heart goes out to the little capitalists. Drink your fucking java and hit the road already.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Tucker Carlson released another episode on Twitter. He’s disappointed that Hunter Biden got his hand slapped by the federal government on a serious weapon’s charge. After all, this cracked-out ne’er-do-well left a loaded pistol in a dumpster right next to a school. Most citizens would be thrown under the prison for such a crime. But I’m not surprised. Hunter is a member of the Washington circle jerk, and that comes with lots and lots of perks. It’s basically a license to steal and kill.

I arrived at my office at 8 a.m. and read my emails. I got a message from my second place of employment. The boss asked me to work an extra shift that night. I agreed. And why not? All I do is watch baseball while sitting on my ass. Occasionally, I have to hand out chips and Coke. It’s easy money.

I called the Dragon Lady.

“I’ll be home late tonight.”

“Why?”

“I have to work at my other gig.”

“You da riar!”

“I’m not lying. The guy needs me to come in.”

“You stole da cahr. You need to take da bus. Dere is no parking aftah seven p.m.”

I sighed heavily. “That’s not true. There’s a ton of parking right across the street at the grocery store.”

“But dat too fahr.”

“Too far? It’s only a five-minute walk.”

“Asshoe!”

She hung up after getting that off her chest. My wife is a real loon. The pinwheels in her head never cease to spin.

I took the elevator to my friend’s room. I talk to Richard Hurtz for about five minutes each day. We are both very busy individuals.

I said, “Anything new going on in your life?”

He shrugged. “Not really. How about you?”

“I’ve been watching a show on Netflix called Dead to Me. It’s pretty good.”

“Who’s in it?”

“Christina Applegate.”

He shrugged again. “Never heard of her.”

“She used to be on a popular comedy called Married with Children.”

“Married with Children? I’m drawing a blank. It’s probably before my time.”

“Christina was very beautiful back in the day. But now she’s an old lady with fake tits.”

“She had a boob job?”

“A mastectomy and reconstruction. She contracted life-threatening cancer in 2008. Luckily, she made a full recovery.”

He nodded. “Great news. I’m glad she’s still alive.”

“Unfortunately, she found out recently that she has multiple sclerosis.”

Richard whistled through his teeth. “Man, that sucks.”

“I know. She can’t win for losing.”

My day at work went well. I’m still reading Robert Frost with my middle school students. They seem to enjoy his work. Which is not surprising. Everybody loves Mr. Frost. He was a real genius.

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Fire and Ice

 

(Like it or not, the world will come to an end one 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. There was a beautiful 37-year-old Korean lady named Kim Ji-hyae. She made her living as a model and a popular live steamer. Like most attractive people, Ji-hyae had a ton of fans. Anyway, she went out drinking with her buddies and got into a fistfight with another female internet personality. After that, Ms. Kim went back to her house and committed suicide. In fact, she streamed her death on YouTube for the whole world to see. I guess that fame meant a lot to her.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Robert Kennedy had one of his videos taken down by YouTube due to policy violations. In the broadcast, Mr. Kennedy claimed that chemicals in the water supply are transforming American men into homosexuals and transvestites. He mentioned a drug called Atrazine. It can actually turn male frogs into females. Kennedy went on to say that his life might be in danger because of the Deep State. He believes that the CIA greased both his father and his uncle. What can I say? I believe him. But isn’t it strange that it’s perfectly OK to kill yourself on YouTube, yet you aren’t allowed to discuss medication or vaccines? Hats off to Big Pharma. This industry has quite the lobby, and those lawyers really deserve a raise.

My day at work went well. I’m currently reading the poem Fire and Ice by Robert Frost with my middle school students.

One girl raised her hand. “How can we compare hatred to ice? It sounds more like fire to me.”

I nodded. “Good point. But there are all kinds of hate in the world. It’s not a uniform emotion.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying. Could you simplify it?”

I scratched my chin and stared off into the distance for quite some time. Then a good example finally came to me.

I pointed my finger in her direction. “Let’s look at the murder of Jesus Christ.”

“What about it?”

“Pontius Pilate wasn’t all hot and bothered over the entire scene. He simply wished to find an expedient way to keep everybody happy. So he washed his hands, and had Christ brutally flogged and nailed to a tree. He didn’t lose a minute of sleep over the fate of one lowly Jew.”

“Then you’re saying that hate can be cold?”

“That’s right. Ice cold.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Let’s suppose that your mother rarely spoke to you. She never said good morning or good night. She never wished you luck. She never expressed her love. Instead, she just stared at you with contempt. How would you describe that kind of behavior?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Torture?”

“That’s right! Torture. You hit the nail on the head. She would be destroying you with icy-cold hate. Get it?”

“I guess.”

I’m not the greatest teacher in the world, but I do the best I can. The secret to my success is rapport. Relationships and feelings are very important to me. I look at it this way. I’m a geezer, and soon I’ll be dead. So I’m hoping that a few people will show up to my funeral and shed a tear or two. That’s more important to me than literature or philosophy.

I got home at 6 p.m. and watched a doubleheader between the Yankees and Red Sox. Boston took both games and swept the entire series. New York looks sad and lost. But in the team’s defense, lots of the stars are currently injured.

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The Anti-Christ

(Perhaps the son of perdition will be a robot.)

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. The conservative mayor of Daegu is a man called Hong Joon-pyo. He tried to interrupt a gay-pride festival by deploying 450 public servants to block a major intersection. However, 1,500 cops showed up to help the sodomites, and the parade was allowed to continue unabated. Hong says that he wants to sack the police chief for being a woke libtard, but the mayor doesn’t have that kind of juice. Only the president is permitted to fire powerful government officials. You got to hand it to the homosexuals. They are truly taking over the world.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. There was more stuff about the gays on one of the websites. President Biden claims that those involved in same-sex marriages often get thrown out of restaurants. He also asserts that black men might get lynched if they walk into an all-white neighborhood. Of course, this is complete bullshit. In fact, American neighborhoods populated by Caucasians are some of the safest in the entire world. And nobody is preventing the homosexuals from enjoying brunch at their favorite dining establishments. Fake news is dominating the world.

The Dragon Lady walked into my room. “You go chawch?”

I nodded. “Yes, I’m leaving soon.”

I try to attend church every Sunday. I’m a real scumbag, so I often worry about my immortal soul. To make matters worse, I’m also an old geezer. Therefore, I’ll be meeting my maker sooner than later. Pray for me.

She said, “On da way home, you must buy da ba-nah-nah.”

“OK. Not a problem.”

I eat bananas on a daily basis for lunch. In fact, I’ll share my diet with you fuckheads so that you, too, can shed some weight. I devour two Costco hash browns in the morning. Then I munch on a banana at noon. And finally I eat a regular-sized dinner in the evening. I also chomp on six pieces of nicotine gum throughout the day. Don’t laugh. I’ve managed to lose 53 pounds due to my lifestyle change. Soon, I’ll be the prettiest man in all of Seoul.

I drove to church with Rice-Boy Larry. We didn’t say much to each other. My boy only talks in monosyllables. His vocabulary consists of these three sentences: Yes. No. Huh?

The sermon was OK. We’re still studying the Book of Isaiah. The prophet managed to predict the death of Sennacherib and his formidable army before the event actually occurred. That’s quite impressive when you think about it. I’m glad that God doesn’t speak to me. I would shit my pants with fear.

Afterwards, we assembled in groups and discussed the pastor’s message. The subject of the anti-Christ came up.

I said, “The prophet Daniel says that he’ll have no interest in women. So maybe he’s a future pope or a homosexual.”

A man named Jurgen spoke up. He’s from Lithuania. “Perhaps the anti-Christ will be a robot. Have you thought about that? They are doing marvelous things with artificial intelligence these days.”

I smiled at him. “You might be right. In fact, that makes perfect sense.”

An angry Canadian named Adam shared his thoughts. “You're both wrong. The anti-Christ will be an American president who takes over the world with his nonsense.”

Adam really hates the United States. He’s perpetually badmouthing my nation every chance he gets.

I said, “It’s possible. But you have to scratch Trump and Biden off the list.”

He said, “Why?”

I said, “Because they both love the ladies a little too much.”

Everybody laughed and laughed. It turns out that some people find me witty. Go figure. 

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Drag Queens

 

(The Roman Catholic Church is filled with sodomites.)

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 woman in her 40s from Cheongju recently got released from prison. She had served a two-year bit for fraud, and she was angry because of her sentence. So she called the local courthouse and told the powers-that-be that she had planted a bomb in the building. It turns out that the lady was lying, but Big Brother took no mercy. She will now have to spend another two years in the joint for her crime. Many people simply have no self-control.

I ate a waffle for breakfast as I surfed the internet. The Los Angeles Dodgers held a day at the ballpark to celebrate the sodomites. They invited a group of drag queens dressed as nuns to strut their stuff right on the field. The nuns were then booed by a sparse crowd in the stands. Many Catholics were outside protesting the festival, and they were even blocking the entrances to Dodger Stadium. But this is what strikes me as weird. The Roman church is loaded to the gills with homosexuals and pedophiles. So what’s the fucking difference? In fact, the protestors should feel right at home. After all, they worship a man who wears a fancy gown, a funny hat, and ruby slippers.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger. It was Nurse Ken who answered.

I said, “What’s up, boy?”

He said, “I can’t talk now.”

“But it’s Father’s Day.”

“No, it isn’t. Father’s Day is tomorrow.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s Sunday over here.”

“I’ve got to go. The bath water is running.” He paused for a moment. “Ask Granny about the gas.”

“What about the gas?”

“She left the stove on, and the fire died out. You should have smelled this place. We’re all lucky that we weren’t blown to pieces.”

After getting that off his chest, he handed the phone to my mother.

I said, “Did you leave the gas on?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just an accident.”

I sighed heavily. “Well, you will have to be careful in the future. You could have died from asphyxiation. That’s how Sylvia Plath met her untimely end.”

“Who’s Sylvia Plath?”

“She was a crazy writer who gassed herself to death. Her little ones were in their rooms when this tragedy occurred. They’re very lucky that they didn’t die, too.”

“Why did she do it?”

“Her husband Ted Hughes was having an affair.”

She frowned. “Dirty bastard.”

“You’re right. Ted was a dirty bastard. But I would say that Sylvia’s response was a bit of an overreaction.”

Mom changed the subject. “How’s Rice-Boy Larry?”

I popped a piece of nicotine gun into my mouth and talked between chews. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He stayed at his friend’s house last night. There was a group of them watching the soccer match between Korea and Peru.”

“I thought he didn’t like sports.”

“He doesn’t. It was more of a social thing.”

She took a sip of coffee. “Is Korea any good?”

“No. Their team sucks big ass. But I heard that all the players are good at math.”

She laughed and laughed.

I spent the rest of the day watching Netflix. I’m enjoying Vikings for the millionth time. It never fails to entertain me. If you haven’t seen it, then give it a try.

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