ER visit with woman I was in the middle of having sex with in Korea

"Why you say bad about the korea? Korean people so kind. Korean people very friendly, but we hate the Japanese. Please understand my culture. We were made to understand theirs...repeatedly."


I don't have much to write about pertaining to Korea or Koreans these days. We keep our Koreans in line in the neighborhood I live in. They don't flaunt anything Korean (except for white cars). Well, to clarify: we keep them in line, but we cant really de-Korean them now can we?

You know what Baek, In-je says: you can take the Korean out of korea, but you cant take korea out of the Korean.

There are a couple of Koreans who live on my block. I had seen them around. The second that I knew they were Koreans, before I had even heard or seen anything to tell me they were of the Cookie-Cutter Race, was when they walked past my place. The woman looks up at my house, sees me in the window, turns to the ajosshi, says something, then they both look up at me in my window.

I swear that it took every ounce of strength and fortitude of upbringing, class, and superior genetics not to flip them both the fuck off.

That's soooooo Korean!

Ok...the point of the headline: I want you, the readers, to submit stories like the ones I write or even better, like Jake at Expat Hell write. Since I don't have much to say about korea, not being there now, I want...we want to read your stories. Email them to baekinjeshow@yahoo.com
 

What's with the door slammers?

Pet peeve number one in Korea has to be the door slammers. What's the deal here? Whether at work or at home, some Korean has to slam the door every time they come or go. It's like living in a country of Asian toddlers.
Two separate workplaces there were numerous door slammers. Imagine working with your back to a door that get periodically slammed open and closed without warning. Some of the DAKs open the door and let it fly, damaging the wall in back of them and causing a great deal of noise. I messaged a woman at work who repeatedly did this on a daily basis, and the return message was a laugh.  Of course, you can't complain to your DAK boss as he'll just think that the white guy, the foreigner, wants special treatment. The waegookin asked you to do something...ker ker ker.^^.
If you live in an apartment and there are door slammers, either threaten them with an impending beatdown or move. Asking them to not slam doors will not work.
If you ask a Korean to do something or not do something, even if it does not put them out (i.e. shutting the door quietly takes very little added effort), they will not do as you say, for if they do, then you have power over them.
That's some fucked up shit, but this attitude is pervasive in Korea.

And now, Korean Nazi cosplay cause Koreans think that it's HILLAROUS!  Notice in the first picture that the gun is pointed at the stomach of the fag in the overcoat. Those guys MUST have searved in the ROK army. (Who the FUCK does this kind of shit?! Oh...right...Koreans.

They are a stubborn and willfull people, and I guarantee you, if you piss one of them off and they can get revenge against you, they will, even if they have to tell bold faced lies that crumple on examination and they are forced to re-tell the lie, or simply change the lie right in your face.
The very first apartment that I lived in, which I lived there for almost three years, was quiet and had a view. It wasn't the most bug-free, but this is Korea; any older apartment is going to have bugs. I would choose bugs over noisy (and nosy) Koreans any day of the week as, as of this date, Killing bugs is legal but killing Koreans is not.
So next time you find that cockroach by himself, give him a good beating and maybe he wont slam his door anymore.

Scientifically simple

Koreans call it a "scientific alphabet," but if you understand hangul, and you can read it, it is a very simplified alphabet; more so than anything else by a long way. It is more like what you might learn by sending away to one of the pages inside an old comic book, next to the x-ray specs and Sea Monkeys. Think about it: 95% of the alphabet is rigidly pronounced, with only a few blended consonants and double vowels that are pronounced unconventionally. I taught myself the alphabet in 6 hours; a smart guy could do it less..alone....but better between shags. Yah, baby.

If you want me to teach you, email me.

Should you marry a Korean woman?

(Shaving her eyebrows had unintended consequences for young Ji-young)

First lets see where the comments are falling, then I'll write up the post. I will use your comments and/or questions when I write the post.  So I will throw the question out there: Should you marry a Korean woman?

Please Tell Me this Is Not Really Happening

 

 

 
I have been sitting here for several minutes thinking of something to type. Can someone please explain what is going on in these pictures
?

That's not your parking space.

I had a 1992 Hyundai Elantra manual speed transmission.

 

I know. You're impressed, right? The car was eleven years old, but might just as well have been a bar of soap because no Korean would even have bought this product of blood, sweat, and kimchee. Sure, you might have been able to find eleven year old cars around farms, the poorer neighborhoods, or just got missed, literally, by that little old ajumma who drives her Hyundai to The Church of the Neon Red Cross on Sunday mornings.

 

I had three requirements in a motorized vehicle whilst car shopping:

1. It had to be domestic. They are the easiest and cheapest to fix.

2. It had to inexpensive. Mine put me back $400.

3. It had to be maroon. Ok, it was maroon to begin with, which is awesome.

 

Parking my vintage Hyundai was a problem in the neighborhood. You see, I didn't know this at first, but Koreans actually own the public land in front of their Soviet-style, Eastern European, dog box apartments. That's right. The DAKs think they own the parking places in front of their apartments. A lot of ajosshis drill chain links into the street, attach a ghetto-style concrete block, and have that block sit there guarding ajosshi's parking space whilst he wastes his time at work working for a soulless chabol in a mind numbing, low pay, thankless, unskilled irritating, Sisyphean hell that is the Korean office.

 

So, one day I parked my maroon vintage Hyundai in front of my apartment building. I left my phone number on the dash, as everyone does, because we are all friends, right?  ^^ I open up a 40oz. and start lining up my side dishes and rice for dinner. I get a frantic phone call before I can eat. I answer the phone, and right away this ajosshi is screaming my license plate number over the phone. I really can't make out a damn thing he is saying as: a) this DAK was screaming into a cell phone; and b) I could also hear him both through the back window and through the closed, bolted hollow steel door.

 

I go down to the car and there is a mid-30s ajosshi standing in front of my lovely Hyundai. A small door, smaller than a normal door is open behind him. OK, got it. He is the downstairs neighbor and I am too close to his door perhaps.

 

"No. No, foreigner. Please understand my culture. This parking space in front my apartment on the public street is my parking space."

 

"I live here," I retorted.

 

"So do I," he replied.

 

And with that, I smile, shrugged my shoulders, and went upstairs, cracking another 40 from the fridge.

 

Drunk. I slept. In the morning, there were key marks all down the side of my car. That stupid motherfucker. It was so painfully obvious that it was him. At least wait a few days before vandalizing my car; it makes it seem so much more random.

 

I was pissed off, but it was not all that surprising. I figured he'd want to have it out one way or another. Make a Korean angry or upset, and that anger will ferment and get ripe, just like right before some Korean goes batshit crazy on society. Fermented and overripe Korean inner hatred for all things.

 

I would have to retaliate. But I would wait a few days. After a late night of drinking in the university district, I stumbled home. As the apartment came into view, I saw his car parked in the disputed DMZ of our shared shitty back alleyway. I looked for something to scratch his car. What I found was a large pointy rock. I pressed it into the hood of his car and gouged. To my surprise, without much effort the pointy rock drove a deep groove into the hood. I thought about how cheap that car must have been to be made so pliable.

 

I never heard from that man again. I guess he looked at his Hyundai and looked at my Hyundai, and realized that my car was the unwanted orphan of the Please Understand My Car Culture Wars.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reconstruction Of Flight 214 Crash

If you can make out anything that stupid DAK pilot says besides 214 and I'll buy you a beer.

http://www.break.com/video/reconstruction-of-flight-214-crash-2491768