Philistines

 

(The more things change, the more they stay the same.)

On Saturday night, I went to the chicken house with Rice-Boy Larry for dinner. We ordered a platter of fried bird and a pitcher of beer. The tab came to thirty dollars. Larry ate most of the vittles while I took a nibble here and there. Why? I’m so tired of poultry that the mere taste of the stuff makes me want to gag. In fact, I’ve been eating so much chicken lately that it’s coming out my ears.

I said, “Have you heard anything from your mother?”

He nodded. “She called me today when I was playing basketball with my friends.”

“What did she say?”

“I think Mom might eventually come back. She’s buying me a new jacket.”

“Was she with her asshole sister?

He nodded again. “I think so. Or maybe she was hanging out with Korean granny. I’m not really sure. But she was definitely talking to someone.”

I took a big swallow of beer. “Be careful of beauty.”

“Huh?”

“Beauty. It’s dangerous stuff. Men worship a nice set of tits and a shapely ass like a god.”

He sighed heavily. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Why are you making it so complicated? Don’t marry a woman simply because she’s physically attractive. There’s more to life than looks.”

He smirked at me. “So you want me to get hitched to a big fat pig? No thank you.”

“Your attractive mother once chased me around our apartment in Beijing with a meat cleaver. Trust me. You’d be better off with a chubby girl. At least she can probably cook.”

“What are you going to do if Mom returns?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Who knows? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Pathological narcissists are actually quite predictable. There are four stages in their romantic relationships. First comes idealization. They will fawn over your every need and make you feel like a king. This is followed by devaluation. Suddenly, you’re the biggest fucking loser in the universe. After that is the discard phase. They leave their lovers high and dry, draining the bank accounts before making their exit. And finally, we have hoovering. This is when they start buying gifts in order to return to the pieces of shit they were running away from in the first place.

We got home at 10 p.m., and I watched the last two episodes of The Fall of the House of Usher. And let me tell you retards something. This has to be one of the worst shows ever created. Yes. It’s that bad. Plus it’s a preachy little tale with lots of finger pointing at the deranged MAGA crowd. In fact, the hero is actually Satan. She comes to earth to wipe out a family filled with evil greedy capitalists. Talk about ho-hum.

I went to bed at midnight and had a strange dream. I was in a coffee shop, and the girl behind the counter served me a cold beverage. I immediately yelled at her because I wanted a hot cup of Joe. Then suddenly I was transported to a grocery store where I bought a box of chocolate-chip cookies. I was so angry that I actually thought about murdering the cashier.

I woke up at 8 a.m. and switched on Fox News. Israel is still making plans to enter Gaza. Did you assholes know that Gaza used to be called Philistia back in the day? That’s right. So the Palestinians are actually modern-day Philistines. Which goes to show you that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

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The Jezebel Spirit

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

The Blood

It's Saturday, and I can't be bothered writing a new blog entry. So I've uploaded a sermon by Pastor Charles Lawson, instead. But have no fear. Soon I shall return with more stories about my glorious life. God bless.

The End Times

 

(Is the Tribulation right around the corner?)

Yesterday, I got to work at 7:30 a.m. and read the headlines on my computer. Lots of Korean men are becoming obese. In fact, 30 percent of the male population under 40 are now considered overweight. But this doesn’t seem to apply to the women. Korean females are actually very beautiful. The vast majority are slim and attractive. Yet many are plastic she-devils who dress fashionably and tote designer handbags. That’s been my experience, anyway.

I talked to my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “Are you still getting divorced on Halloween?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I really have no fucking clue.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never actually talk to my wife these days.”

“Are you crazy? She was just at your apartment the other day.”

“Yes, but I didn’t see her. Nor did I speak to her. She was long gone by the time I came home. I’m very much confused by the whole situation.”

“Then why don’t you call her?”

“I don’t see the point. All she does is scream. So I guess I’ll just have to play it by ear.”

“What the hell does she scream about?”

“She keeps telling me over and over again how I ruined her life. She also claims that I am nothing but bad luck. I’ve told you this a million times.”

Mom frowned and let out a heavy sigh. “I simply haven’t been the same since my stroke. Short-term memory remains a problem.”

I already have a plan in place. I’m going to try my best to get Rice-Boy Larry through high school before returning to America. However, if things get too uncomfortable, I’ll be forced to make a run to the airport. Life’s been extremely pleasant since the Dragon Lady flew the coop. I have no complaints. Furthermore, my healthcare plan is world class. When I contract cancer due to the cigarettes, I’ll actually be able to afford the pain medication. God willing.

I went to lunch at noon and sat in the cafeteria with my friend and colleague Richard Hurtz. The food was quite good. Fried chicken and noodles.

He said, “I hate Palestine and Israel.”

I said, “What do you have against Israel?”

“Those sons of bitches are always causing problems. The land doesn’t belong to them.”

I pointed at him with my index finger to lend gravity to my words. “You’re dead wrong. God promised them the land 4,000 years ago when Abraham walked among the living.”

He smirked at me. “Really? You believe in those old fairy tales?”

I nodded. “I most certainly do. And this war is very exciting to a loon like me. Israel is now surrounded by her enemies. So it just might signal the upcoming Day of the Lord.”

“And that’s when Jesus returns, right?”

“Correct. What we’re looking for now is the abomination of desolation.”

He chuckled and clapped his giant hands together. “And what does that entail?”

“The son of perdition will enter the Holy Land. This will lead to the Tribulation and the Great Tribulation.”

“And who exactly is this son of perdition?”

“The antichrist. He will be a solitary human who will take charge of a global empire. But not to worry. He shall only reign for seven years.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.”

“And neither am I. Because I won’t be here. I’ll be raptured up to heaven while you non-believers are left in the soup.”

I eventually returned home at 6 o’clock. Then I cooked dinner for my son and did two loads of laundry. I also watched an episode of Wentworth before finally going to bed. I was so exhausted that I was out like a light before my head hit the pillow. I slept like the dead.

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Teenagers

 

(I've been working around teenagers most of my adult life.)

Yesterday, I got to work at 8 a.m. and read the headlines on my computer. A fifteen-year-old middle school student from the city of Nonsan got arrested for raping a woman in her 40s. He also beat her up very badly while he was forcing her to have sex with him. South Korea is extremely lenient toward juveniles. So this child will probably only have to spend a few years in kiddie prison before he’s eventually released.

I’ve spent the majority of my adult life working around teenagers. And I could tell you story after story about how fucked up some of them are. Trust me. It’s not that difficult to spot the ones who will eventually end up in jail. They tend to have a history of violence from a young age. I often wonder if crime is a hereditary problem. It seems to me that many criminals are born, not made. But what the hell do I know?

At noon, I went for lunch at the school cafeteria. I was served roasted chicken and rice. One of my colleagues sat down next to me. Her name is Betty, and she works in the elementary division.

She said, “How old is Rice-Boy Larry now?”

I said, “He’s almost sixteen.”

“Does he plan on going back to America for university?”

I shrugged. “He never really talks about it.”

“And what about your older child? What’s he up to these days?”

“He’s in college in Texas. His major is healthcare management.”

“What’s the name of the school?”

I smiled at her. “You probably never heard of it. It’s a little Podunk institution located in the western part of the state.”

“So he wants to get a job in a hospital?”

I nodded. “He was going to be a nurse, and then he suddenly changed his mind.”

“I wanted to be a nurse, too. But I couldn’t handle the biology courses. So I chose elementary education, instead.”

“I’m not a big fan of healthcare management. It sounds kind of boring to me. You know what I mean? Sitting behind a desk and planning the budget. Who the hell wants to do that for the rest of their lives? Plus he won’t have any friends. The money guys are always universally hated.”

I returned to my room and drank a cup of coffee. I started to feel a great deal of stress. For the last few months, I’ve been wondering if I should stay or go. It would be great to watch the NFL on Sundays again in the comfort of my mom’s living room. She has two great little dogs. They’re both Schnauzers. But another part of me says that I should let Larry finish school before returning. This fork in the road is killing me mentally.

Later in the day, I read a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson with my high schoolers. It’s called The Humble Bee.

I said, “Mr. Emerson was a real loon in my opinion.”

One of the boys raised his hand. “But you think that everyone’s a loon. Maybe you’re the loon.”

“You could be right. Yet Emerson went to Harvard and became a pastor. Then he started telling everyone not to go to church. Instead, he exhorted his readers to regard nature as their cathedrals. In my mind, that’s kind of goofy.”

The kid smirked at me. “Big freaking deal. It’s not like he killed anyone.”

“True. Very true.”

How could I argue? What he said is correct.

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Halloween Party

 

(Lots of people died in Seoul last year during a Halloween party.)

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. About a year ago, 159 people in Seoul were killed due to a stampede during a Halloween street party. Now people are wondering if it’s OK to recognize the holiday after such a tragic event. In fact, several amusement parks are forgoing their celebrations altogether. The scene was quite grisly. Many of the emergency responders are currently suffering from PTSD.

I prepared bacon and hash browns for Rice-Boy. Then I sat on the sofa and watched The Five on Fox News. A hospital in Palestine was accidentally bombed by Hamas, killing roughly 500 people. The Jew-haters are blaming it on Bibi, but the evidence is pointing in the other direction. Some of my most ardent readers are anti-Semitic. Yet I refuse to harbor a grudge. What’s the point, right? My fans are mainly comprised of retards and fuckheads, so you can’t hold them accountable for their actions.

I got to school at 7:30 a.m. and shot the shit with my pal Richard Hurtz. He’s a giant of a man, standing seven-feet tall.

He said, “Did you see the story about that crazy landlord in Illinois?”

“No, I must have missed it.”

“He stabbed this six-year-old kid to death simply because he was a Muslim. He also tried to kill the boy’s mother.”

“Man, that’s rough.”

“Sometimes, I’m ashamed of the United States. You can tell he’s a nut just by looking at him. That old prick should’ve been locked away in the booby hatch years ago.”

I nodded sympathetically. “I blame it on Reagan.”

“Reagan? He’s been dead for almost twenty-five years now.”

“Yes, but Ronnie is the guy who shutdown all the asylums in order to save a few bucks. Consequently, we’ve been dealing with a huge influx of loons ever since his administration came to power.”

He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “I had no idea.”

My day at work went well. I’m still reading The Necklace with my middle schoolers. They are very bright children. In fact, most of them have IQs much higher than mine. Sadly, I’m only about as smart as the average dolphin. Anyway, we’re on the part where the protagonist doesn’t want to go to the party because she has nothing to wear.

I said, “This woman is a dangerous malcontent. What should you do if you ever meet a person like this in the future?”

One girl raised her hand. “Walk away?”

I shook my head. “Wrong! You need to run as fast as your legs will carry you.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “Are you OK?”

“Me? I’m as right as rain. Why do you ask?”

“You seem to be taking this story a little personally.”

That’s the problem with high-performing teenagers. They’re a little bit too intelligent. So you always have to be on your guard. If the truth be told, I much prefer teaching dummies. Less stress and lower expectations.

I eventually got home at 6 p.m. The Dragon Lady had dropped off Larry’s shoes. They were resting in their boxes on top of the coffee table. My soon-to-be ex-wife had also cleaned the apartment. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be seen. She had driven away long before my arrival.

I sat on my sofa and watched a film called Renfield. The movie is pretty much a dud, but Nicholas Cage does a great job in his portrayal of Dracula. His scenes had me laughing out loud.

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Bad Wife, Bad Life

 

(The Dragon Lady's voice makes me ill.)

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. Ninety-one people died in Korea last year due to bicycle accidents. And I’m a little shocked that the number isn’t actually higher. South Korea is densely populated, and the traffic is insane. Yet these biking maniacs constantly make a nuisance of themselves, riding on both the streets and the sidewalks. Silly motherfuckers.

I walked to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for Rice-Boy. I served him bacon and hash browns. After that, it was time to catch the bus. As I made my way through the crosswalk during a green light, I was almost mown down by an aggressive lunatic driving a BMW. I shit you not. To make matters worse, the son of a bitch actually blew his horn at me as if I were the one at fault. The balls on that motherfucker.

I eventually arrived at my office before 7:30 a.m. And I waved to my friend and colleague Richard Hurtz who was standing at the watercooler.

I said, “This chilly weather is really fantastic. It must be my age. When I was a youth, I enjoyed summer a great deal. But not anymore. I’m a winter boy all the way these days.”

He frowned at me. “I think you have it backwards.”

“Backwards?”

“Yes. Old people usually hate the cold. They’re always complaining about drafts and constantly wearing sweaters. Kids, on the other hand, seem to tolerate the cold far better than adults.”

I shrugged. “Well, perhaps I’m aging in reverse.”

He nodded. “Stranger things have happened.”

My day at work was OK. I’m currently reading The Necklace with my middle school students. It’s a story about a spoiled want-to-be princess who ruins her husband’s life with her childish behavior. The author is Guy de Maupassant. His writing instructor was none other than Gustave Flaubert.

I looked at the children. “Poor Mr. Maupassant went crazy and died in an asylum in Paris.”

One girl raised her hand. “What was wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure. But if I had to guess, I’d go with an extreme case of OCD.”

“What were his symptoms?”

“Who knows? But he wrote this story called The Piece of String. In it, the protagonist keeps insisting to his neighbors that he’s not a thief. He simply can’t stop himself. And the poor guy spends years and years telling the same story over and over again until he finally dies. Sort of like a broken record player.”

“Did he wash his hands a lot?”

I sighed heavily. “I’m not sure. But the main symptom of OCD is intrusive thoughts which lead to crippling anxiety. But I’m certainly not a psychiatrist. I’m simply speculating.”

Around 1 p.m., I had a phone call. It was the Dragon Lady. My heart began to race, and beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. Her very presence is akin to shaking hands with the devil. Her mere voice actually makes me physically ill. I’m not exaggerating.

She said, “I dwive to da apartment tomollow.”

“Home come?”

“I must tawk with da leal-estate rady.”

“Why?”

“It about bidness, you fucken idiot.”

“OK. Business. I got it.”

“I buy Rarry two pair of shoe. Where I put dem?”

“You can leave them outside the door.”

Then she hung up on me.

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