Chapter 20

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Yesterday, I woke up at noon and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the paper while taking a nasty shit. A poll was taken. Fifty-one percent of Koreans don't believe in God. This is a nation filled to the brim with dirty atheists. And their lack of faith—in my humble opinion—leads to horrible sadness. For instance, Koreans are too depressed to fuck. They lead the globe in sexless marriages and are rock bottom when it comes to the rate of childbirth.

Consequently, more immigrants are traveling to the peninsula. For instance, men from the countryside can't find wives. So they import their brides from nations like China, Thailand, and the Philippines. Sadly, these women are frequently treated horribly by the locals. To make matters worse, their offspring are often bullied and mocked in the public schools. Koreans only respect other Koreans. Everyone else is seen as a steaming pile of shit—especially those with dark skin.

But I must be honest. I haven't experienced this type of crap because I'm the White Buffalo. The locals love my pasty hide. They enjoy rubbing the hair on my arms and legs, and they treat my children very well. That doesn't mean that they love me. Quite the contrary. Koreans hate Americans almost as much as they despise the Japanese. But that doesn't prevent them for showering me with kindness. Why? On the peninsula, white is right.

My sister-in-law called. She doesn't want the Dragon Lady to buy a Chevy Orlando.

She said, "Dis is Kolea. Nobody rike da Cheby. You must buy Hyundai. Are you clazy?"

My wife said, "I ruv da Cheby. It has rots and rots of loom on the inside. It can fit nine."

"You must buy Tucson. It has rots of loom, too. Prus it made by Hyundai."

The Dragon Lady got angry and hung up. But my brother-in-law phoned five minutes later. Bottom line? We aren't getting the Orlando.

Just as well. One of my wife's students is probably going to quit taking English classes. She's entering high school and just can't find the time. Therefore, I've decided to keep my old Samsung.

I took a shower. My wife insists on drying my body with a hairdryer every day. She claims that I smell bad. The woman hates my guts. When I die, she'll dance a jig on my grave. But lots of women hate their husbands. I don't take it personally.

I drove to school in my beater. I had to order books for my upcoming classes. This year, I'm teaching literature to eighth and twelfth graders. I'm also teaching a writing class to five students who wish to attend university in the United States or England.

One of our new teachers is coming from the States. She lives in the Pacific Northwest. I took the liberty of ordering her textbooks. I hope she doesn't mind. I just don't want her to arrive without any materials. It can take weeks for the books to get shipped to the peninsula.

I drove the Samsung to my mechanic. I got an oil change for forty dolla. I need to keep it running well for the next year. Sadly, I have the feeling that I'll soon be taking the bus to work.

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