Monday, August 31, 2015

Sunday

(Hannibal comes to a glorious end.)

Yesterday, I took my boy to McDonald's for dinner. We both enjoyed Big Macs and French fries.  We washed our vittles down with two large glasses of Coca-cola.  The experience was heavenly. I'm a huge fan of junk food.  All that sugar sends me straight to the moon.

I watched the finale of Hannibal.  It is absolutely brilliant. Hannibal and Will lead Francis to his doom.  The two men butcher the Tooth Fairy as if they were dispatching a hog.  Will cuts his stomach open with a knife while Hannibal disables the serial killer with a hatchet to his legs.  For the coup de gras, they slit his throat from ear to ear. Then the two men hug each other like a couple of homosexuals. After that, they jump from a cliff to their doom.  It has to be one of the greatest endings in the history of television.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy pagan.  I hold little hope that my wife's new meds will lead to some magical cure. This journey's going to be quite arduous. So I asked Jesus for more patience.  I'm dying here.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  A woman in Arizona drowned both of her sons.  They were twins.  The poor children were only two-years-old.  If I were king of the world, I'd burn this witch alive at the stake.  But nobody listens to me--which is a good thing.  I'm usually full of shit.

I read the paper later in the day.  A man was arrested in Seoul for beating his ex-girlfriend's lover over the head with a baseball bat. His friends joined in for fun.  The assault was so severe that it took the victim five months to completely recover.  Those criminals should be fed to the lions.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Rusty Cage by Johnny Cash.  God bless.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Sunday

(Bellator isn't as fun as the UFC.)

Yesterday, I prepared fried chicken for dinner.  It's not my specialty. Sometimes, the meat comes out all pinkish.  But I did a good job for a change. The meal was perfection.  My son raved about the flavor.  I washed the vittles down with two bottles of Jinro soju. I got pretty shitfaced.

I watched Bellator MMA.  Bellator isn't nearly as good as the UFC. Nevertheless, the organization does occasionally put together a good fight card.  A blond-headed guy with a beard beat the shit out a wrestler from Ohio.  Blondie devoted the bout to the Pygmies suffering in Chad.  He calls them his family.  Trust me.  Being a Pygmy in Chad sucks royal ass.  Those people suffer terribly at the hands of their oppressors.  The guy definitely has my respect.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty nihilist.  My life is slowly returning to a new normal.  And I'm doing my best to savor each day given to me.  I'm almost fifty.  I don't have many years left. Might as well enjoy them while I can.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I had a strange dream.  A dentist told me that he needed to take out a rotten tooth.  He showed me the needle he wished to use in order to deaden the pain.  I told him to go ahead and get it over with.  But he just kept talking and talking and talking.

I woke up at 8 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  A woman in New York killed her new born baby girl.  Then she slept with the corpse for over three months.  A neighbor saw the body while visiting and called the police.  The cops on the scene were pretty shaken up. They've been offered psychiatric help.  If I were king of the world, I would burn this woman alive at the stake.  But what do I know?

I read the paper later in the day.  A Korean man was sentenced to die for murdering his girlfriend's parents with a knife.  When the poor woman returned home, he raped her.  She jumped out of her apartment window in order to end her misery.  Now she's permanently injured from the fall.  Capital punishment on the peninsula is purely symbolic.  The state hasn't greased anybody since 1998.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's I Talk to the Wind by King Crimson.  God bless.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Saturday

(Curt Schilling gets punished for telling the truth.)

Yesterday, I took my eldest son to a restaurant.  We ate fifteen dollars worth of fried chicken.  The poor kid hates dining with me.  He says I take too long.  I washed the vittles down with a pitcher of Cass beer.  Cass is my favorite brand.  Beer rocks.  It's my favorite drink in the world.

I saw the Dragon Lady.  She stopped by to get some money for the credit card bill.  We talked for ten minutes.  The medicine seems to be working.  That crazy look in her eyes is completely gone.  Plus she didn't verbally abuse me with obscene language.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy misanthrope.  I thanked Jesus for liberating me from the matrix.  I no longer feel as if I'm part of the rat-race.  I have no interest in making millions.  Nor do I wish to compete against the Joneses.  I feel quite comfortable in my own skin.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 11 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Curt Schilling is being punished by ESPN for badmouthing Islam.  He compared Muslim extremists to Nazis in an ill-advised Tweet.  But the poor guy's telling the truth.  Those crazy rag-heads will be the death of us all.  Why punish the man for being honest?  America's becoming too politically correct.

I read the paper later in the day.  Five-hundred pimps were arrested for organizing an overseas prostitution ring.  The flesh industry's huge in Korea. It's estimated that one percent of the female population actually work as hookers.  On top of that, Korean men are notorious for their vacations to Southeast Asia.  They certainly aren't ashamed to purchase their jollies.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd.  God bless.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Wednesday

(Ted Cruz is courting the evangelical vote.)

Yesterday, I prepared pork and French fries for dinner.  The fries were made from scratch.  The meal was delicious.  My eldest son ate every morsel on his plate.  I washed the vittles down with a bottle of Jinro soju.  Soju's disgusting.  But it's cheap and gets the job done.

I watched Fear the Walking Dead.  The show starts with a junkie waking up from a heroin binge.  He's in a creepy old church.  The ground's covered with human blood and body parts.  He catches his girlfriend chewing the face off a corpse.  There's a butcher knife hanging out her chest.  Cool stuff.  Zombies are like bacon. They make everything better.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty pagan.  I asked Jesus to bring peace to my life.  Living with the Dragon Lady all these years has given me post-traumatic stress syndrome.  No shit. I'm a bundle of nerves.  Maybe I should become a crackhead. Would that help?  I don't know.

I went to bed.  I had a strange dream about my favorite author Kurt Vonnegut.  He caught deadly pneumonia after falling off a ladder. Kurt was in his eighties.  Old men can't handle accidents.  Anyway, he appeared to me in a vision.  I asked him if he wrote The Gulag Archipelago.  He simply laughed and walked away.  I felt empty.

I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Ted Cruz has decided to kiss evangelical ass.  It's a smart play.  Ted's against abortion, gay marriage, and funding Planned Parenthood.  So am I...although I often give the fags, lesbos, and lady-boys a pass. Lots of evangelicals side with Cruz on these issues.  And we account for 25 percent of the republican base.

I read the paper later in the day.  The UFC's coming to Seoul in November.  I'd love to go, but I'm a broke dead dick.  The fight card's wonderful. It'll be a first-class event.  Sadly, I won't be there. But I'm more of a home-body anyway.  So are my children.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Whip It Good by Devo.  God bless.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Monday

(Abortion sucks.)

Yesterday, I prepared pork and French fries for dinner.  I made the fries from scratch.  The meal was delicious.  My son and I ate every last morsel.  I washed the vittles down with several glasses of generic cola.  I'm a broke dead dick.  Therefore, I can't afford the good stuff.

I watched an episode of Zoo.  It has to be one of the stupidest shows on television.  Nevertheless, I'm starved for entertainment.  Bats are invading Brazil, and the team is kidnapped by drug lords. Luckily, they avert disaster by making a machine which produces a high-pitch frequency.  The bats--tortured by the noise--fly away consumed with fear.  Meanwhile, a woman in Paris is mauled by a naughty bear.  You get the idea.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy nihilist.  I asked Jesus to save the Dragon Lady from lunacy.  She's currently taking a lot of dope.  I hope those meds are powerful.  My final option is elephant tranquilizer.  So this could be the last hope for my family.  Strangely enough, I remain optimistic.  Perhaps I'm a retard.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Good news.  The state of Ohio will stop murdering fetuses afflicted with Downs Syndrome.  I'm fully on board with the nutty right-wing regarding this issue.  Killing a child because of his IQ is murder.  I'm not bright, either.  But that doesn't give society the right to put a bullet in my head.

I read the paper later in the day.  Many Korean women are dating younger men.  This kind of relationship was frowned upon not too long ago.  The peninsula used to be quite hotbed of conservatism.  However, it gets more liberal by the moment.  Homosexuals are out of the closet and the females are turning into hot-to-trot cougars.  I long for simpler days.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Lady Marmalade by Christina Aguilera.  God bless.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Sunday

(Jared Fogle is going to jail.)

Yesterday, I prepared bacon and eggs for dinner.  I bought the bacon at Emart.  It cooked up all thick and crispy and delicious.  I also fried some rice using large amounts of salt and grease.  The meal was delicious.  I washed the vittles down with a large bottle of Cass beer.  Cass is my favorite brand.

I watched the latest episode of Hannibal.  Dr. Lecter is still rotting away in a mental hospital.  His books and toilet have been taken away due to his general naughtiness.  Meanwhile, Francis captures Dr. Frederick Chilton.  He shows Chilton what it means to become The Great Red Dragon.  Then he bites off the psychiatrist's lips and tongue, and sets him on fire. I'm going to miss Hannibal.  It's a wonderful show.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty pagan.  I thanked Jesus for making my eldest son mentally strong.  He realizes that his mother has been acting like a loon for the past couple of years.  Consequently, he doesn't internalize her abuse.  I hope my wife's meds will bring her back down to earth.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 11 a.m. and turned on my lap top.  Do you remember Jared Fogle?  He used to help Subway sell their shitty sandwiches.  Anyway, Mr. Fogle got busted for having sex with minors.  On top of that, the police found child pornography on his computer.  So he'll be spending the next twelve years in a federal prison.  Jared's quite the dirty bird.  He looks so normal.

I read the paper later in the day.  Sex crimes on the Korean subway system are on the rise.  Approximately six cases are reported each day.  Most of the incidents seem to revolve around groping. People are cramped together like sardines, and the occasional pervert likes to cop a cheap feel from the female passengers.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's You May Be Right by Billy Joel.  God bless.   

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Saturday

(Mutated lice are attacking America.)

Yesterday, I prepared beef and French fries for dinner.  I made the fries from scratch.  The meal was quite good.  My eldest son ate every morsel on his plate.  I washed the vittles down with two bottles of soju.  Soju will knock you on your ass.  Plus it's dirt cheap.

The Dragon Lady called.  She stiffed me on a 2,000 dollar credit card bill.  I'll have to pay it before the end of the month. But that's OK.  These things happen.  She went to the doctor two days ago. She has thyroid disease--which can actually mimic mental illness. My wife now has to take a shitload of pills to keep from going completely loony.  However, I'm afraid that ship has already sailed.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy heathen.  I asked Jesus to restore some normalcy to my family's life.  It's not easy being married to a mental patient.  It takes a lot of patience. I hope that her medicine works.  That would be a true blessing.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up 11 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  America is currently being assailed by mutated lice.  The regular medicine no longer kills the tiny vermin. So now the drug companies are fast at work finding a solution to the problem.  Mutant lice.  Just one more thing to worry about.  The pain never ends.

I read the paper later in the day.  North and South Korea are shelling each other across the DMZ.  The south is angry about a recent landmine incident.  These flare-ups are common.  Yet I never seem to worry about an actual war.  On the bright side, northern aggression could solve my Dragon Lady problem.  One can always dream.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Atom Heart Mother by Pink Floyd.  God bless. 

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Thursday

(I've seen Blue Oyster Cult in concert.  It was fun.)

Yesterday, I took my eldest son to a restaurant.  We ate fifteen dollars worth of fried chicken.  James-uh complained during the entire meal.  But I just kept munching away.  These father-son moments are precious.  I washed the vittles down with a pitcher of Cass beer.  Cass is my favorite brand.

I walked back to my Soviet-style concrete apartment.  I did some laundry.  Then I listened to Blue Oyster Cult.  My man-tits jiggled like jello as I danced to their hits from the seventies.  Life without the Dragon Lady is peaceful.  I no longer feel as if I'm walking on eggshells.  But eventually she'll return to destroy my bliss.  That woman's a vengeful ball of rage.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty pagan.  I thanked Jesus for the food and the music. This planet is populated by so many talented artists.  They turn life into a joy.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop computer.  Donald Trump is currently stumping in New Hampshire.  He says that he'll build a beautiful wall across the Mexican border.  Plus he'll get the Mexican government to foot the bill.  The Donald has enough steam to win the republican nomination.  But he'll end up self-destructing. The man's a little off in the head.

I read the paper later in the day.  A pervert set up a hidden camera in a female communal shower.  He then uploaded the video to the internet.  The footage is almost ten minutes long.  Perhaps he was trying to embarrass a former lover.  I don't know.  The mind of a sex criminal is hard to understand.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Kentucky Woman by Neil Diamond.  God bless.   

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Tuesday

(Trump has no chance in a general election.)

Yesterday, I prepared shrimp and beef for dinner.  The meal was delicious.  My son ate every last morsel on his plate.  I washed the vittles down with two bottles of soju.  I fear that I'm becoming a drunkard.  But that's OK.  A man needs a hobby.  Plus soju is dirt cheap.  You can get a bottle for less than a dollar.

I listened to tunes on my laptop.  I shook my flabby ass to The Rolling Stones.  My man-tits jiggled like bowels of jelly.  I thought I was cool for about twenty minutes.  Then I remembered my creaking bones and rotting teeth.  I sat down and swilled more booze.  Getting old isn't for pussies.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty heathen.  I thanked Jesus for the food.  I'm a fortunate man.  Lots of people in this screwed-up world can't afford meat.  I'm just glad that I wasn't born in Djibouti. 

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my computer.  Donald Trump wants to throw out all illegal aliens--even the ones who were born in America to undocumented parents.  In other words, he wants to shred The Constitution. But his opinions are irrelevant.  The billionaire tycoon has zero chance of prevailing in the general election.  There simply aren't enough angry white people to vote him into office.

I read the paper later in the day.  The police in Ilsan arrested two North Korean defectors for drug trafficking.  The men were caught with large amounts of crystal meth and marijuana.  Drugs are serious business here in Asia.  They'll be spending quite a few years in jail.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Centerfold by The J. Geils Band.  God bless.

Monday, August 17, 2015

Monday

(Hell On Wheels is one of my favorites.)

Yesterday, I prepared bacon and French fries for dinner.  The bacon was from Emart.  It cooked up all nice and thick and delicious.  I made the fries from scratch.  My eldest son loved the meal.  He ate every morsel.  I have mad skills in the kitchen.  Perhaps I'm half-a-fag.

I watched the latest episode of Hell On Wheels.  Bohannon's in love with a Chinese girl who's disguised as a man.  A white scoundrel murders her father.  Consequently, Bohannon's the only person who knows her true identity.  If the other workers find out, they might kill the young woman.  I like Hell On Wheels.  The series is one of my favorites.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty nihilist.  I thanked Jesus for the newly found peace in my life. The apartment's very tranquil without the Dragon Lady.  I can actually hear myself think.  What a difference.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Mike Huckabee believes that a ten-year-old girl who was raped by her step-father should be forced to have the child.  Everyone's calling the former governor a loon.  I must be crazy, too, because I actually agree with him.  If I were king of the world, I'd burn the rapist at the stake.  But I'd still force the victim to have the baby.  Perhaps I'm a neanderthal.

I read the paper later in the day.  A man in Seoul tried to kill himself and his nine-year-old daughter by driving his car off a cliff.  By the Lord's grace, they both managed to survive.  He was given an eighteen-month jail sentence.  That seems kind of light for such an outrageous crime.  But what do I know?  I stay out of Korean affairs.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Daydream Believer by The Monkees.  God bless.  

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Sunday

(History is coming alive.)

Yesterday, I prepared pork and French fries for dinner.  The fries were made completely from scratch.  The meal was delicious.  My eldest son James-uh raved about the flavor.  He ate every morsel on his plate.  I washed the vittles down with a bottle of soju.  The experience was heavenly.

I watched the latest episode of Hannibal.  The doctor reaches out to Francis in a bid to stay relevant in the public eye.  He asks Francis to murder Will's wife and step-son.  The psychotic readily takes a shine to the gruesome task.  But Will's wife is a resourceful woman. She manages to save herself and her boy.  The end.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty pagan.  I asked Jesus to help the Dragon Lady.  At this moment, she's high on rage. And the Korean family provides no help.  They merely enable her outrageous behavior. But what goes up must come down.  I hope she manages to land on her feet rather than pulling a crash and burn.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I had a strange dream.  I was at a friend's house.  His wife was there, too.  I asked them many questions.  But they paid no attention.  Instead, they kept slurping soup from their bowls.  I left the house crestfallen.  

I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  A car bomb exploded in Baghdad.  Thirteen people were killed.  ISIS is taking credit for the deadly blast.  Muslims are by far the craziest bastards on the planet.  They won't be happy until they butcher us all.  ISIS needs to be eradicated.  The group poses an existential threat to our species.

I read the paper later in the day.  Victims of the black death were found in London.  Their bones were discovered in a pit underneath the Liverpool subway stop.  Scientists will investigate the remains of these unfortunate victims.  For some strange reason, I find this news exciting.  History is about to come alive.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Tennessee Whiskey by George Jones.  God bless.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Friday

(The exorcist gave me his advice.)

Yesterday, I took my eldest son to a restaurant.  We ate fifteen dollars worth of fried chicken.  James-uh didn't complain.  Usually, he hates to go.  I washed the meal down with a pitcher of Cass beer. Cass is my favorite brand.  The experience was heavenly.

I played some music.  I shook my flabby ass while listening to the Bee Gees.  For a moment, I felt great.  Poor old Smith was back in the seventies.  Life was full of hope and good times. Then I remembered my rotting teeth and jiggling man-tits. Suddenly, I had the urge to cry like a woman.  I held back the tears. I'm quite macho.

The exorcist called me on my cell phone.  He said that my wife has a lot of emotional problems.  He advised me to change the locks on my door.  No shit.  He also said to stop giving her money. According to him, I should cut her off completely.  Perhaps he's right.  Her anger is so intense that she might very well burn my important documents just for fun.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I asked Jesus for a little help. These have been some trying times.  I've never known a woman to completely reject her firstborn son.  I've seen it on the Jerry Springer Show, but never in real life.

I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Connecticut is in the process of abolishing the death penalty.  I'm not sure how I feel about this decision.  Some people are so bad that they deserve to be burned at the stake.  Yet the legal system does make mistakes from time to time.  I'd hate to see an innocent man reduced to ashes.

I read the paper later in the day.  A woman in Seoul got angry at her husband.  She lured him to a used-car lot.  Then she and five of her friends beat him with baseball bats.  It took the victim two weeks to recover from his injuries.  Sometimes, it's just better to walk away from an abusive relationship.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Big Balls by AC/DC. God bless.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Tuesday

(Rick Perry is out of money.)

Yesterday, I made beef for dinner.  I also cooked up some fried rice with eggs.  My eldest son loved the meal.  There wasn't a morsel left on his plate.  I'm becoming a real Martha Stewart.  I washed the vittles down with two large plastic bottles of Cass beer.  I enjoy drinking suds, but I must cut down on my consumption.  I'm morbidly obese.  If I get any larger, I won't be able to fit out the front door.

I watched the final episode of True Detective.  Season two is absolute trash.  Don't bother wasting your time.  Vince Vaughn and Colin Farrel end up dying.  Vaughn is stabbed by an angry Mexican and keels over in the desert.  Colin, on the other hand, is shot several times in a redwood forest.  The two women in their lives escape to South America and raise a child together.  The end.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy pagan.  I asked Jesus to give me a little bit of peace in my tumultuous life.  The exorcist is coming today.  His visit probably won't do any good. But I appreciate his efforts.  He does all this for free.  He's a very caring person.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Rick Perry's campaign is running out of money.  His workers in several states are no longer getting paid.  I guess they're helping the Texas governor out of a sense of duty. That's very commendable.  Nevertheless, Perry just isn't presidential material.  He's not a dumb guy.  But he speaks as if he's chewing on a mouthful of shit.  Ronald Raven, indeed.

I read the paper later in the day.  A drunken college student in a small Korean city went bonkers.  He broke into a sushi restaurant and stabbed the elderly owners to death.  The young man was apprehended without pants.  He claims he can't remember what happened.  That's quite a night.  If I were king of the world, I'd throw this reprobate off a cliff.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Loser by Beck.  God bless.     

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Sunday

(Christian Taylor killed by police.)

Yesterday, I made fried chicken for dinner.  I cooked the poultry in two pans.  It came out nice.  But I didn't use batter.  I don't have any flour at home.  Nevertheless, my eldest son enjoyed the meal. He cleaned his plate joyfully.  I washed the vittles down with a large plastic bottle of Cass beer.  Maybe I'm drinking too much.  I'm currently experiencing heartburn.

I watched the latest episode of Hannibal.  The show is absolutely brilliant.  Francis finds a new girlfriend.  She's black and as blind as a bat.  The poor girl engages in sex with the psycho.  Of course, Francis has know idea how to react.  He's a virgin who believes he's disfigured, even though he's the most handsome man in the state of Maryland.  He goes to a museum and literally eats William Blake's Red Dragon painting in an attempt to escape from the voices.  I'm going to miss Hannibal.  Taking it off the air is tragic for a shut-in like me.  Oh well.  What's a boy to do?

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty nihilist.  I asked Jesus for wisdom.  The exorcist is coming on Tuesday.  He's a pastor, and he wants me to patch things up with the Dragon Lady. But I have several conditions.  First, my wife must agree to see a psychiatrist.  Will this happen?  I think so. My faith remains strong. Only an idiot would bet against the savior.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  A young African American named Christian Taylor was shot and killed by police in Texas.  Christian entered a car dealership illegally and was jumping up and down on the hood of an automobile when confronted by two local cops.  They asked him to surrender.  He refused.  Mr. Taylor was subsequently shot several times. He died at the scene.  What is it with black people? Why do they always refuse to listen to law enforcement?  I just don't get it.

I read the paper later in the day.  A hooker in Seoul was given a 30-year prison term for killing one of her customers.  She lured the man to a motel room for sex.  Then she stabbed him forty times. After that, she dismembered his body with an electric saw.  She buried the body parts in a rice field.  The next day, she used her victim's credit card to buy jewelry.  If I were the king, I'd have her burned at the stake.  But what do I know?

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Hey You by Pink Floyd.  God bless.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Saturday

(Niloy Neel hacked to death by crazy Muslims.)

Yesterday, I took my eldest son to a restaurant.  We ate fifteen dollars worth of fried chicken.  Poor James-uh is tired of poultry. But I believe in tradition.  Friday evenings are devoted to bird and conversation.  I washed the vittles down with a pitcher of Cass beer.  Cass is my favorite brand.

I walked back to my Soviet-style concrete apartment.  I shook my chubby ass while listening to Neil Diamond. I thought I was cool for about twenty minutes.  Then I saw myself in a mirror.  Reality came crashing down hard and fast. I almost cried like a woman.  Almost. I haven't shed a tear in nearly forty years. I'm extremely macho.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy misanthrope.  I thanked Jesus for his continued support.  I feel good.  I'm healthy. Life is peaceful now that the Dragon Lady's gone.  But I'm also willing to follow orders.  I understand that divorce is a no-go according to my religion.  If my loony wife wants to come back, then the door will always be open.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and checked the latest Google headlines.  An atheist blogger named Niloy Neel was hacked to death in Bangladesh by angry Islamists. The religion of peace strikes again.  Muslims are completely nuts. Those rag-heads will eventually be the death of us all.

I read the newspaper later in the day.  The Korean government's on the verge of forcing churches and temples to pay taxes.  This will cause quite an uproar among the diverse religious communities here on the peninsula.  I'm not sure if it's a good idea. But who died and made me boss?  I stay out of Korean politics.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Macho Man by The Village People.  God bless.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Friday

(Is Rand Paul a future Wall-Street ass-licker?)

Yesterday, I made bacon and eggs for dinner.  The pork was purchased at Emart.  It fried up all thick and crispy.  My son was impressed.  He ate every last morsel on his plate.  I washed the vittles down with a large plastic bottle of Cass beer.  Cass is now my favorite brand.

I watched several episodes of Mad Men.  I'm currently on season four.  The series is very impressive.  Don's alcoholism and womanizing are finally wearing him to a nub.  This guy porks more girls than humanly possible.  I don't know where he finds the energy.  I'm tired of females.  No shit.  If I were a wafer-eating papist, I'd probably become a priest.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some dirty atheist.  I thanked Jesus for giving me a great mother.  When I was a youngster, she never called me dirty names or kicked me out of her house.  And trust me.  I was no choir boy.

I went to bed at 11 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Rand Paul had a good debate.  He ripped Chris Christie a new asshole.  I'm not sure how I feel about Rand. Is he just another Wall Street boot-licker?  Or can we count on him to do what he says?  Both questions are completely irrelevant. There's no way he's garnering the nomination.

I read the paper later in the day.  Police rescued a little dog that had been buried alive by its owners.  Koreans just don't place a high value on animals.  The poor creatures are often abandoned all over the countryside.  Koreans still eat dogs. What else is left to be said?

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Gin and Juice by Snoop Dog.  I'm not sure if it's safe for work.  God bless.  

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Wednesday

(Three dead in Pensacola, Florida.)

Yesterday, I cooked shrimp for dinner.  I bought the them at Emart. I paid ten dollars for 12 plump specimens.  The meal was delicious. But my eldest son James-uh wasn't impressed.  He's too lazy to peel the shells.  I washed the vittles down with a large plastic bottle of Cass beer.  The experience was heavenly.

I watched the latest episode of True Detective.  I'm beginning to hate this show.  I have no idea what's going on.  The plot's completely convoluted.  You'd have a better time staring at a jug of cloudy water.  But I've come this far.  And I can't bail after such a timely investment.  So I'll keep staring at the computer screen like an idiot until the series fades to black.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy heathen.  I asked Jesus to give me a clean break from my wife.  We've arranged a deal to avoid divorce.  Nevertheless, I need a year away from that evil witch.  My psyche's on the verge of collapse.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  There was a triple murder in Pensacola, Florida.  The cops claim that the crime scene's ritualistic.  They blame the deaths on witchcraft.  The authorities have to be careful with that type of outrageous language.  The FBI investigated satanic murders back in the eighties.  They found the whole phenomena to be a hoax.

I read the paper later in the day.  We're currently experiencing a nationwide heatwave in South Korea.  The temperatures and humidity are brutal.  Seven people have died so far.  That's the strange thing about the peninsula.  You sweat your nuts off in the summer and freeze your balls off in the winter.  The weather truly sucks giant ass.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Balls to the Wall by Accept.  God bless.  And fuck Lloyd Blankfein.    

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Tuesday

(Ronda Rousey is a beast.)

Yesterday, I took my eldest son James-uh to a restaurant.  We ate fifteen dollars worth of fried chicken.  I washed the vittles down with a pitcher of Cass beer.  Cass is now my favorite brand.  It's quite delicious.  My boy and I talked about girls.  He likes a young child called Jane.  Unfortunately, Jane doesn't know he exists.  But that's OK. I'm just glad he's not a homosexual.

I'm not going to tell you a bunch of bullshit.  The Dragon Lady kicked us both out again.  She threw peaches at my head.  Then she hit me with various picture frames.  After that, she tried to stab me with a fork.  The police came.  I was almost arrested for domestic abuse.  Thank Jehovah for The Children of the Rice.  They told the authorities my side of the story.  What a blessing.  No prison time for poor old Smith.

I watched the UFC.  It's my favorite vice.  I love all the blood. Ronda Rousey won again.  This woman has never lost a match. She's truly a beast.  But she could learn some lessons in violence from The Dragon Lady.  I truly believe that my wife could take Ronda in a fight.  No kidding.  She has man-strength and thick hands.  Trust me.  I'm a former varsity wrestler.  I used to be a bad-ass.  I'm just too old to fight these days.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some misguided nihilist.  I thanked Jesus for all my blessings.  My marriage is a shambles.  But I'm cool with it.  My faith in Christ never wavers.  His power's truly magnificent.  I count him as both my boss and a dear friend.  I couldn't ask for a better benefactor.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 7 a.m. and turned on my laptop.  Pakistan hanged a young man named Hussein for murdering a child. Amnesty International is outraged.  They claim Hussein confessed to the crime because of torture.  I go back and forth on the death penalty.  Some days I'm for it.  Other days I'm against it.  It's a thorny issue.

I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  Many young students in Korea are being sexually harassed by their teachers. The authorities have promised to crackdown on this outrageous behavior.  I guess that's good.  I just hope the innocent don't get caught up in the governmental dragnet.  

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's Epitaph by King Crimson.  God bless.

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Sunday

(Hell On Wheels is one of my favorites.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady prepared chicken for dinner.  She cooked the poultry in our Phillips Air-Fryer.  It came out hot, crisp, and delicious.  My wife complained.  She says that I treat her like a domestic slave.  So I offered to mop and vacuum our humble abode.  I want to be a modern guy.  Then maybe she'll stop bitching all the time.  One can only hope.

I watched Hell On Wheels.  Bohannon's working for a new railroad outfit.  One of his employees is a young China-man named Phong. The kid falls off a cliff but manages to survive.  Bohannon soon discovers that Phong has a sweet set of tits.  His real name is Mai, and he's been living as a man to keep from being raped.  Hell On Wheels is one of the best shows on television.  I never miss an episode.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  No big surprise.  I'm not some filthy atheist.  I thanked Jesus for my abundance of good fortune.  My marriage may not be optimal, but things could always be worse.  At least the Dragon Lady isn't an adulteress or a heroin addict.  Plus she's never tried to have me murdered.  The glass is always half-full in my neck of the woods.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I didn't dream.  I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on Fox News.  Hillary's email scandal is affecting her poll numbers.  The public believes that the former first-lady is untrustworthy.  Clinton has always been a liar and a criminal.  Nevertheless, she'll probably be our next president.  The very notion makes me want to weep.  The United States is becoming a third-world pit of mediocrity.  Oh well.  Another empire bites the dust.

I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.  The Russian authorities recently arrested an elderly female serial-killer.  The old bird is in her sixties.  She's been found guilty of butchering an eighty-year-old woman.  The authorities believe that nine others fell prey to her evil.  What a world we live in.  We can't even trust our grandmothers anymore.

Anyway, it's time for the song du jour.  Here's TNT by AC-DC.  God bless.