Living in Wonju South Korea, These Many Long Years

Living in Wonju South Korea, These Many Long Years: Version 2.0!

Friday, October 28, 2016

Epic Suckitude!

Image result for bard playing a lyre
Hola my Koreaboos, klown haters, and random readers! Tonight I felt like getting on a high horse, since well it's been awhile and I felt the urge.

In for a penny in for a pound I've heard said. I'm sure you might apply that to any manner of what comes next, so fuck you too!

And no, I won't be talking about that lame parody that was the last Ghostbusters movie, despite how it got so many lesbian and gender studies majors panties wet. My name is pronounced DOOOOCE, which means mild, with a French variation on the final syllables to emphasize the soft 'c', despite how it is spelt Douche in my native language, and even though that sounds like shithead in your language, I am not a dick and you should respect my choices! My voice matters!

Not that there is anything wrong with all that mind. . .nor will I discuss how from now on being shocking or using hyperbole will now get you irrevocably grouped into the Republican fold, since being insensitive or controversial means you are akin to the brutes that now represent that party in the states.

No, we have other far more important topics to discuss, mainly:

When did most expats start to epically suck?

I remember back in the day. . . .when I was your age some random old fogey would go on. . .I had to walk uphill both ways to buy chicken from the back of a bongo truck! And I loved every miserable, drunken step!

No, I'm talking about how lame the expat community has generally become.

Now I know this is a mantra that became common place after those Eat your Kimchi twats showed up, but hear me out: no one has stepped in to fill the void. 

Why is that?

It would be easy to blame the gender studies fucks, since they brought PC to a whole new level. No one dares to seem unsympathetic nor lacking savvy, akin to the first episode of the 3rd season of Black Mirror.  Who wants to get voted down, even if your biggest crime is simply to have woken up in a bad mood?  Not this bad hombre!

There used to be those who just were because they were. There were those who had no fucks to give, and they did what was done because it the end it enriched us all. They wrote, sang, engaged life, because that was who they were. Being an expat also was seen as liberating, since the normal rules didn't apply. You were a loser back home? Guess what? That means absolutely nothing here, since no one knows you and no one cares who you used to be. You are either a new person or fit the caricature-de-jour.

My last couple trips through Seoul, all I've seen are folks who lack the will to say anything that might get them voted down. The music, art, conversation they engender lacks vitality and interest. This is an example of epic suckitude, since we've all already seen how boring it can all get thanks again to the writers and musicians that became popular a few years back.

What a bunch of boring softcocks we've become.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

So many Kinds of Wrong Caption Contest!

This. Looks like some community college design grad made this one. Post your best politically incorrect response in comments!

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

TV Mind

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Still Alive!

Hola Waegs!  I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but life's been pretty mad of late and gettin into it all would be dull and a cut into my vibe.  See, this waeg's been working at walking that very narrow path between being useful while not bein an uncle Tom, and despite how the results haven't been ideal, I haven't bored myself (nor you!) with too much of the same old repetitive bullshit.

Sure, I could have talked about my new management position.  And yeah, I could have gone on about the peccadilloes of various coworkers and interns.  I most definitely could have entertained with the insanity of my personal life, the drunken I-just-don't-give-a-fuck-about-consequences-nor-credit-card-bills moments over the last few months.  But that's not what I'm on about today.

No, waegs, I'm on about what comes next.  I'm on about having a plan.  I'm on about how to make things so so much better for me and mine and my ilk.

Now you may say: waeg, you're fucked.  Just give in and move on.  Stahp now.

But since no one has offered me a book deal, nor enough money to think about stopping, well here we find ourselves.

I will leave you with my favorite song of late, an oldie (90s!), but suffice to say that my other projects have left me enough time to send out this missive: where the fuck are the 'I'm not going to write bullshit responses to cutting edge news and instead talk meaningfully about living since well, I'm invested and have more to say then the average retard bear' crowd?

Guess they all went to China or somewhere.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015


There was always the real chance that once some fucker took a run at one of my girls, I'd go to jail.  Seeing the first fuck to do so show up at the meeting with bruised face only served to heighten my contempt and cynicism.

Rich bastards who laugh at the poor ijits. up in a wheelchair and a hospital gown and you are obviously repentant!
But now, where is the anger, where is the outrage? Removed. I'm kept ignorant and stupid, since the waeg is said to have little ability for control. So the wife has told them.

The process is slow, I'll grant that. What has become unavoidable is knowing that being kept in the dark is what I'm supposed to accept. I've been portrayed at the irrational one, and relevant bodies make no attempt to return my calls.

In all honesty, the fact that the youngest responded the way she did when confronted with the ugliness of human perversity is a testament to proper upbringing.  Fuck you if you think I'm being a pompous ass. I figure I'm just being realistic about what it is to live on this most finest of peninsulas.

Still, it is a consolation to think that she responded properly when molested. The old me promised fire and brimstone old testament shit on any fuck that dared to use her half breed shit against her, which I'll say now but perhaps not tomorrow that Korea is starting to grow the fuck out of.  This has only led me to be excluded from most discussions, as I can't understand and expect a more direct response.  It is a 'understand my situation' thang, but admittedly more sophisticated than the dross I've been fed over the years. It has prompted me to call in a few favors for future consideration, still to be determined.

The fucker has to burn. No amount of "we were just playing" can explain why he did what he did with a 9 year old. The wife is being obscure and nebulous about it all; my calls to the principal and abuse manager have yet to be answered. It seems their main point is: the youngest was not hurt.  There are far worse stories. Sit down in that corner and be quiet.  Or grow a pair as they say where you are from.

Fine. Where's my hush money?

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Camping 7.632

Last weekend I went out with the fam and another mom with kids to one of our favorite camping spots.  

Friday night was pretty freaky as there were no other campers and the only sounds that broke the night were cries of a ruined cat that somehow survived to become a tom, and for those of you at home keeping score, a 소쩍새. .. Korean onamotapiea for the sound the owl makes... folk story is she was a poor girl who died from starvation and was reborn as this owl... 솥이작다 means the pot is too small... hence the cry she makes every night..FEED ME!

The second night I thought about creating a sense of place and knowing as I drank after filling up bags with mountain vegetables, only to see the older priest from the local church who had lived in the area for years show up with like infinity more than I procured. ..  this was an adjusshi, no adjusshit. . .too bad my Korean isn't good enough to have a conversation that doesn't always come back to god.  Instead, I listened to the following:

At least I had the presence of mind, despite being three 200 cl bottles of Scotch Blue in, to wrap up all the sweet potatoes to cook so the kids could have em for breakfast.  One of the moms actually came out to talk as I laid the roots in, and I admitted to secrets I thought I'd never find myself sharing on this most finest of peninsulas.

All I have to say more on the subject is that collecting all that shit is a serious pain, and if you're all about being a lazy ass motherfucker stay home and hope one day emart will carry it. I've been a firm believer in the gomchi for years, and the chwinamoule smells awesome when you've got a big bag of it, although I'm fairly sure that smoking it won't help to mitigate the pure Korean alcohol and pharmaceutical response that is expected from drones living in concrete towers on this most finest of peninsulas.

Bah.  Time for sleep