Advanced Math

 

(Calculus is easier for some than others.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. The United Nations recently called Gaza a graveyard for children. Needless to say, I’m not a huge fan of this organization. I believe it to be both anti-Israel and anti-American. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the U.N. is secretly hoping that the Muslim horde will declare a jihad against the Great Satan. But what do I know?

I cooked bacon and hash browns for my boy. However, I soon discovered that he was sick.

He said, “I think I have the flu.”

I said, “How do you know?”

“I have a huge sore throat, and I can’t stop blowing my nose.”

“That’s a motherfucker. I hope I don’t get it. I don’t want to lose any time from work.”

“Why do you have to be such an asshole? This isn’t about you.”

Of course, Rice-Boy Larry was a hundred percent correct. My words were highly insensitive. But kids don’t understand what it’s like to be an adult. The world doesn’t grind to a stop when we’re ill. And let me tell you retards something. If I take a few days off from my endless toil, the amount of paper stacked on my desk will be enough to drown an elephant. Therefore, good health is essential for a blind toothless geezer like me.

I looked at my son. “Can you at least eat your vittles?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Well, go lay in your bed, and I’ll bring the food to you.”

Later that morning, I caught the bus to school. I arrived at my office at 7:30 a.m. and called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “I think Larry has the flu.”

“That’s a shame. Are you going to take him to the hospital?”

“He’ll go himself. He doesn’t need me to hold his hand. In fact, we have a general practitioner right across the road. He can walk there in less than five minutes.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“It really is wonderful. Plus it’s dirt cheap, too. The office visit and the medicine will cost me less than twenty bucks.”

“Yes, but are you receiving first-rate care? In America, it’s tough to get to see a doctor right away. Yet the treatment is state of the art.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea if it’s first-rate care. However, I can give you some stats. Koreans have a much higher life expectancy than their American counterparts. So it can’t be all that bad.”

“There you go again. Always badmouthing your country.”

I shook my head vigorously from side to side. “I love the United States. It’s a great place. But let’s speak the truth. Our healthcare system sucks giant ass.”

My day at work went well. I’m currently teaching some challenging grammar to the middle school rugrats. They’re learning how to diagram sentences with gerunds, participial phrases, and infinitive phrases. And you should listen to them complain. It’s a non-stop bitch festival.

I said, “C’mon, children. It’s not that hard. You’re acting like I’m asking you to do calculus.”

One girl raised her hand. “I feel at liberty to speak for the Asian contingent of our class. And we all agree that calculus is a lot easier than this crap.”

Advanced math easier than English grammar? Only a kid from the Orient would spew such nonsense.

I laughed so hard that I nearly pissed my pants.

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Hells Angels

 

(Try to be a child of the light.)

On Saturday, I watched a documentary on Netflix. It was about a German student who moved to America in the 80s in order to go to college. Unfortunately, he hooked up with a rich girl who hated her parents, and they got together and slaughtered her mom and dad like they were butchering hogs. The authorities eventually let the deranged couple out of prison after a 33-year sentence. I found both of them to be quite disgusting. In my opinion, they should die behind bars due to the brutality of their crime. But what do I know?

I took Rice-Boy Larry to the chicken house for dinner. We ordered a platter of fried bird and a pitcher of beer. I go to the same restaurant week after week. I’m a man who is a slave to rituals. The sky will fall if I don’t cross the i’s and dot the t’s. I probably need to see a psychiatrist.

We struck up a conversation as we merrily ate our vittles.

I said, “I don’t like your sleep schedule. You should go to bed at 11 every night and wake up at 6 on the dot. This will keep you healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

“But my grades will go down.”

I shrugged. “There’s more to life than grades.”

“Not in Asia.”

I sighed heavily. “I used to have problems sleeping back in the day. So I would spend my nights going to dive bars and getting drunk. I met a real cast of characters. One of my buddies was a Hells Angel. He got married to a bisexual prostitute named Angel. Angel ended up torturing and killing one of her clients. She even stuck a hot curling iron up his ass before stabbing the poor prick to death. She’s now serving a life sentence for her crime.”

"Was she pretty?"

"Who?"

"The bisexual hooker?"

I shook my head from side to side. "Quite the opposite. In fact, she was cursed with a face that even a mother couldn't love."

“Wow. That’s quite the story. Does it have a point?”

I thought about his question for a moment or two. “Well, the first thing we can deduce is that the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club isn’t exactly comprised of Boy Scouts. No surprise there, right? Secondly, it’s probably not a good idea to marry a bisexual hooker. Again, this is common sense. But last, and most importantly, try to avoid the darkness at all costs. Children of the night are generally a miserable lot. As the Lord says, we should always strive to be children of the light. And God is never wrong.”

“Why would you even hang out with a Hells Angel?”

“He was actually a nice guy. Very emotional. He’d always cry like a baby whenever he got skunked on whiskey.”

We arrived home at 9 p.m., and I did a load of laundry before going to my room. Then it was time for porno. I keep watching these movies from the 80s. They bring back memories of my sexually frustrated youth. I can’t believe that I get to view them all for free.

I fell asleep at midnight after a vigorous wank. Needless to say, I slept like the dead. Good for me.

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Who Is the Antichrist?

It's Sunday, and I can't be bothered writing another blog entry. So I've posted a video by Mark Driscoll, instead. But have no fear. I shall return tomorrow with more tales about my wonderful life. God bless.

The Gospel that Paul Preached

It's Saturday, and I can't be bothered writing a new blog entry. So I've posted a sermon by Charles Lawson, instead. But don't worry. I'll be back soon with my stories from my life. God bless.

Time Flies

 

(My stepfather is an old man.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. The little fat man in charge of North Korea is named Kim Jong-un. And make no mistake. He’s a complete psychopathic son of a bitch. Anyway, this twisted dwarf is throwing his support toward Palestine—which shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Diabolical assholes always gravitate toward evil. My final analysis? Kim Jong-un can go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. Fuck him and fuck the horse he rode in on.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “How are things in Texas?”

She said, “Not so good.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“Your Mexican stepfather might be at death’s door.”

“Holy crap. Is he all right?”

“Of course he’s not all right. I already told you that the Grim Reaper is coming for him.”

“Well, how do you know?”

She shrugged and took a sip of water. “Last night, he was so exhausted that he couldn’t hold his head up. I had to drag him to his bed. Then I made him toast and tea. He said, ‘Honey, I think the end is coming soon.’ After that, he rolled over and went to sleep.”

I smiled at her. “He isn’t dying. He’s simply worn out. It happens to the best of us.”

She wagged her finger in my face. “Son, the man is 85 years old. If he says he’s dying, then he’s dying. Trust me on this.”

“But his mother lived until she was a hundred years old. Plus his mind is still as sharp as a tack.”

“That’s true. Yet his mother never had bypass surgery.” She paused for dramatic effect. “The years have a way of creeping up on you, Jack. They pass by so quickly.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Try not to worry. If he dies, I’ll be on the next plane. Then me and my boys will do our best to support you emotionally and financially.”

“What is your heart telling you?”

“Honestly, I’d love to come back to America as soon as possible. However, I think it would be better to let Rice-Boy finish high school before returning. Plus I’d be able put some scratch in the bank. But I’m not going to let you sit in Texas alone.”

She nodded. “Anyway, his ex-wife and his son are coming to visit next week just to be safe. They want to say one final adios before he embarks on his journey.”

“Well, that certainly makes sense. However, I feel in my gut that there is still some tread left on his tire. I wouldn’t bury the old guy just yet. But what do I know?”

Later that morning, I caught the bus to school. My day at work went OK. I’m currently reading a Ray Bradbury story with my middle schoolers. It’s a tale that’s supposed to serve as a metaphor describing the Cold War. Bradbury has been dead a long time, and the Cold War is over. Things change at the speed of light.

I eventually got home at 6 p.m. I walked across the street and bought donuts and duct tape. Then it was time to clean two loads of laundry. What I really wanted to do was watch porno, but I was simply too busy. Perhaps I’ll be able to find the time tonight. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

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Broken

 

(My vacuum cleaner is on the fritz.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty dump. President Yoon thinks that Korea is paying foreign workers too much money. He says that these high wages are hurting local business owners, especially restaurants. So he wants to reduce their income to approximately $800 dollars a month. Yoon claims that this is fair because most of them are from shithole countries which are mired in poverty. Therefore, 200 bucks a week is nothing to sneeze at. The guy’s all heart, isn’t he?

I switched on Fox News to get the latest about the situation in Israel. The IDF is now hitting the Philistines with a full-out ground assault. The carnage is tough to look upon. Yet a nation which isn’t allowed to defend itself isn’t really a nation at all. I’m just concerned that this regional conflict will turn into a world war. I keep hearing the usual neocon assholes stating that the next step is an attack on Iran. This would probably bring China and Russia and Turkey into the conflict. But if God wants to usher in the apocalypse, then who’s going to stop Him? I have this eerie feeling that history has already been written and that the human race is just a bunch of pawns in a larger spiritual battle.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “My fucking vacuum cleaner is on its last legs.”

“What happened?”

“The hose fell out.”

She took a sip of Coke and shoved some meat into her mouth. “Can’t you simply put it back in?”

I nodded. “I did. But I’ll probably have to purchase some duct tape to do the job correctly.”

She smiled at me warmly. “Thank the Lord for duct tape. It’s the stuff of miracles.”

“First my glasses. And now this.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Things break all the time.”

I sighed heavily. “I know, but I’m just a little down today. I don’t get my new specs until next week, so I’m forced to view the world through scratched lenses. And it’s driving me right up the wall. Plus my vision is for the birds. I’m at a minus six, and if I drop down to a minus ten, Korea will consider me legally blind. I won’t be allowed to drive at night.”

“Big fucking deal. You don’t even own a car.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “True. Very true. However, it would wonderful to have a set of peepers that functions properly.”

I caught the bus and made it to school by 7:30 a.m. My day at work went well. I’m still reading The Bells with my high schoolers.

I said, “Isn’t this a fabulous poem?”

One of the boys sneered at me. “I hate Poe. He’s such a filthy dog. What kind of a man marries his thirteen-year-old cousin?”

“Well, you are judging his actions through a 21^st-century lens.”

“Don’t give me that crap. I’m not afraid to call a spade a spade. He was a drunken incestuous pig who liked to fiddle with little girls.”

“That might be true. But he was still a great poet.”

I got home later that evening at 6 p.m. I ate a quick dinner and went to my room to watch porno. I enjoyed a couple of films featuring a naughty woman named Crystal Breeze. I really had a good time.

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New Glasses

 

(Never use Windex to scrub your lenses.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty dump. The big story of the day is Korea’s birthrate. People are no longer having children on the peninsula, so the Korean race might actually die out in the near future. I shit you not. In fact, one middle school in the city of Ansan is now mainly populated by students from Russian-speaking countries. Their parents are working at the local factories. You can’t any Koreans willing to do the dirty jobs.

I walked to the kitchen to clean my glasses. I used Windex, and soon noticed the many scratches on my lenses.

“Holy shit.”

Rice-Boy Larry was at the kitchen table shoving bacon and hash browns down his throat.

He said, “What’s the problem?”

“My glasses are totally screwed.”

“That’s because you keep cleaning them with Windex. You shouldn’t use harsh solvents on plastic.”

“Plastic? What are you talking about?”

“Lenses aren’t made with actual glass these days. What? Are you still living in the 20^th century?”

“Well, that’s bad news for you. You’re going to have to take me to the optometrist tonight because I can’t go through life blind.”

He sighed heavily. “Sometimes, you’re a real fucking retard.”

I nodded in agreement. “I’m not going to lie. It frequently seems that way. But it has to do more with my age than my actual IQ.”

My day at work went OK. I am currently diagraming sentences with my middle school students. They claim to be struggling with the assignments, but they always seem to do well on the tests. Kids in the 21^st century tend to bitch a lot. Yet they should be thankful. At least they aren’t living in the Gaza Strip, getting raped and beheaded by bearded men in tunics and turbans.

One girl raised her hand. “Will this actually be useful in real life?”

I shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Then why are you forcing us to do it?”

I shrugged again. “That’s just the way life goes. Some things will never change.”

She shot me the stink eye. “Well, I think your answer sucks.”

“It probably does. But I sat where you are sitting right now. In fact, I had this algebra teacher who said that I’d never make it in life because I was a dullard. Back in those days, the instructors were allowed to insult the students.” I paused for dramatic effect. “And do you want to know something? I’ve never used algebra a single day in my entire existence. Nor have I used biology or chemistry or French or earth science. The list goes on and on.”

When school finally finished, I caught a taxi with my boy to the optometrist. He told me that my glasses were screwed and that I needed new lenses. Then he gave me a test to see how blind I actually am. The total bill came to $190. I have to pick up my new specs on Monday.

After that, we visited a fast-food restaurant called Lotteria. We ordered a bucket of chicken, two packs of fries, and two Cokes for $24.

I said, “This has turned into quite the expensive day.”

“Life ain’t cheap. Everything costs money.”

“Trust me. It’s hard when you’re a broke dead dick.”

We finally got home at 7 p.m., and I did two loads of laundry before going to bed. I also viewed several episodes of Wentworth on Netflix. It’s a great show. I crawled between the sheets at 10 p.m. and slept like the dead.

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