Filthy Beast: The Diary of an English Teacher in South Korea

Chapter 31

Yesterday, I woke up at 2 p.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the paper while taking a nasty shit. Korean dramas are very popular throughout Asia. In fact, tourists often come to visit the sets and meet their favorite stars.

However, the Chinese powers that be have now banned these shows from their airwaves. They're very angry because South Korea has permitted the United States to place the THAAD missile system on the peninsula. These missiles are adept at knocking enemy rockets out of the sky. China is concerned about American hegemony in its neck of the woods.

I try to swim in the swallow end of the pool. I'm already a nervous wreck. The last thing I need is to worry about thermo-nuclear warfare. Life's tough enough without all the global hubbub. If it comes, it comes. What do you want me to do about it?

I called Ken. I told him about Number One Sister-In-Law beating the shit out of her children.

Ken laughed. "Did she use the bamboo?"

I said, "Yes. It broke my heart. Have you seen this before?"

"Lots of times. She hits those kids with anything she can get her hands on."

I'm a little bit worried about my eldest son. He's doing well in school without cracking the books. It sounds like his study habits are waning now that he's living with his grandmother. I want him to do well when he gets into college.

I said, "Instead of getting A's and B's, why don't you try to get all A's?"

He said, "Leave me alone. I'm doing fine."

"If you don't want to go to university, try the Air Force. They'd love to have you. You speak two languages. Plus only the officers get killed."

"I'm not going into the military. Stop worrying. I'll be fine."

Number One Brother-In-Law came home at 10 p.m. He sat on his expensive sofa and began rubbing his wife's shoulders. I told him that beating his children with a bamboo stick was an unacceptable act of pagan brutality.

He said, "Stop it! Kolean style."

I said, "Then Korean style sucks ass."

He silently walked away.

I shouted at him as he ascended the staircase. "I'm putting you in my book, pagan."

He's been very cool toward me since.

I'm a half-assed Christian, like I've told you many times. My main goal in life is to become a citizen in The Kingdom of Heaven—even if I have to drive the garbage truck. But I often can't tell the difference between right and wrong. There are so many gray areas.

For instance, it's pretty easy to get to heaven in my church. First, you have to believe in the inerrant bible. Second, you can't be a smoker. Don't ask me why, but tobacco is strictly forbidden. Third, you must frown upon all things homosexual. Fags, lesbos, and lady boys, according to my pastor, are not permitted to reside in God's Kingdom.

But maybe the good reverend is wrong. Pope Francis is schooled in the whole liberation theology movement. And let's be honest. He definitely has Marxist leanings. So smokers, fags, abortionists, and drunks are now welcome in the church. But successful businessmen are going straight to hell.

And what about the great Russian writer Leo Tolstoy? Leo was a Christian anarchist who hated the epistles of Paul. He found Romans 13 particularly offensive. Tolstoy believed that respecting the rules of the state shouldn't be a huge priority amongst the followers of Christ. He simply wasn't into the idea of the domesticated Jesus.

People disagree all the time. So who the fuck am I to tell someone how to raise their children? Just food for thought.