Happy Anniversary (Too soon?)

Has it really been seven years?  

• The Spider-Man trilogy?  Check.  
• Two terms of George W.?  Check.
• iPhone?  Check.  
• The slow demise of Tim Allen's career?  Check. 

All I remember from 9/11 was checking Yahoo! news and the headline was that Michael Jordan was returning to basketball playing with the Washington Wizards.  What a waste of a press release.

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Autumn 1979

Beginning of senior year.

No more buses for us.  Chuck P. drives rust-brown Oldsmobile

station wagon, later known as party-town-on-wheels.  "My Sharona"

blasts on shitty car speakers.

Eventually, learned how to deal with the aroma of 

"the pot" first thing in the morning.

Eventually, learned how to deal with being stoned/wasted

in home room.  The 

sterile florescence twelve feet above us ages each of us by three to twelve years. 

We were the class of '80 whose last name began with 'K'.

King, Klein, Klostberg, Kirshner, Kamen, Koo, Klumstein, Klemstra, Klemperer.

Mr. Weisgram, math teacher by day, home room monitor at 8:30 A.M.  Here.

Under this light, he looked really old, and tired.  Thick brown and gray mustache,

sunken eyes and a serious pocket protector.

Eventually...

Couldn't wait until 4th period.  Free period.  Subtle sunlight, windbreaker,

the alternating aroma of grape Kool-aid and French onion soup from the Wyler's

factory across the street.  Little would I realize, Pink Floyd's "The Wall" 

was about to change my life. 

Ask An Old Korean Man

So often, I am asked questions pertaining to my heritage.  So often, I'll ignore these questions.  I feel that I have matured enough to answer these questions honestly and openly, so let's get to the damn questions.

Hey, Sung, are all Koreans racists?

Hey, Paul.  I am only one of millions, maybe billions of Koreans, so it's unfair for me to speak for all of them.  If, and I emphasize if, we all had a like mind and spiritual unity, and all Koreans were like me, the answer is yes.

Hey Sung, do Koreans really eat dogs?

My mother once told me this story.  "Once, when I was a child, I had a dog.  Oh how I loved this dog.  Her name was Sep.  Sep would follow me to school everyday, and wait for me to finish so she could walk me back home.  It was so cute, right when the school bell rang, her ears would go straight up, and she'd run up the road.  We were inseparable.  One day, the neighborhood bully, who happened to live next door, was teasing me, pushing me and pulling my hair.  Brave Sep came running out of nowhere and bit that jerk right in the arm.  He ran away crying while holding his arm, screaming at me and Sep.

Later that night,  that guy's parents came up to our house and asked my parents, your grandparents, if they could have Sep out of retribution.  My mom, your grandmother, said, "No way, your son probably deserved to be bitten!"  My father, your grandfather; he was always wise and he said, "Fences do not a good neighbor maketh, but the sacrifice of the family dog doth."

The next night, the neighbors had a barbeque outside.  It was like a birthday party with all the celebrating and such.  The smell of the fire was making me very hungry.  When I looked at their grill, it was Sep.  They were eating Sep!  Ever since that day, I can't eat meat."

So, to answer your question, Chris George, Koreans don't eat dogs.  My mother is a notorious liar/storyteller.  She still eats meat.  She calls every dog she ever sees Sep.  She won't return my phone calls.

Hey, Sung, hey.  Totally, why are Koreans so good at math?

The answer is simple, Jimmy H., we study hard and constantly strive for excellence.  Why would it be any different for numbers?  You stupid round eye.

Hey kids, if you have any questions, feel free to Ask An Old Korean Man at sungmokoo@gmail.com

Why the hell not?

It's true.  I have said it out loud at least eight times, "Why the living fuck would I want to start a blog?  Isn't a blog just a glorified diary that no one should read?  Am I that arrogant that I need to start a blog that no one will read?"  I'm not sure what changed my mind, but here I am, rambling my personal thoughts onto cyber-print.  It is not coincidence that diary sounds like diarrhea.

I'm really glad that the expression, "It is what it is," is starting to go away.  Sometimes, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, and there is a need to give silent pause in between statements.  Instead, some asshole invented this term, "it is what it is."  Of course it is.  I want to say that the first time I ever heard it said was by Michael Jordan after he was forced out of the Washington Wizards' organization.  It seemed to make sense then, but with each repeated hearing, it dissipates to words of ignorance.

Cell phones are destroying our sense of decorum.  I don't care who you are, but don't ever call me while you're in the bathroom.  There is a time and place for these things, and they are far away from each other.  I mention this because I have noticed people walking out of the bathroom talking to someone on their phones.  Gidiculous.

Lately, I wonder if I'm going to spend the rest of my days alone.  A part of me feels really horrible that I may actually die unloved, but then, there's the other side that's relieved that if I die before my partner, I won't burden them with the loss of me.  I wonder if a house cat ever thinks this while licking itself clean.