A great insight from the Infidel:
The Roh administration made it sound as if serving in Iraq was a quid pro quo, like a family member one really doesn't like but can't refuse just now, for Washington's deal on redeployment or a deal with Pyongyang. There was no intimation that Seoul had any reckoning of its national interest in the war on terror or as an ally of the United States. The younger generation is dissolving bonds of family and kinship, just when the middle-aged ones are breathing the last breath of their radical ideological youths. One generation is retiring into the sleep of the blessed, while the other is feeling the golden glories of a racial and cultural past.
In other horror news:
I finished work at 6:30PM on Saturday evening and went straight out to Chongno to meet my buddy Jang-woong, his sister, and her family. I hadn't seen them in a long time, and they'd been wanting to get together for a couple months. In typical Korean fashion, the evening was a rushed event: we were to meet at the Chongno TGI Friday's at 7:30PM, eat a quick dinner, then go see a movie.
Dinner wasn't the horrifying part: we finished eating around 8:30, then piled into Jang-woong's small car (there were six of us, four being adults) and rushed off to an 8:50PM movie in Ch'ungmuro, not far from the Chongno main drag.
The movie, my friends, provided more than enough horror to make up for a pleasant dinner. Apparently, movie selection was left to Hyon-ah, the younger daughter in the group (the group consisted of me, Jang-woong, his sister, her husband, and their two daughters).
We saw "Princess Diaries 2."
I had no idea that we Americans were capable of producing ball-shrinking rubbish on par with the emasculating nightmare of Hello Kitty. My sac spent almost two hours just screaming and screaming: the target market for this film is nine-year-old girls.
"Princess Diaries 2" features gowns, dresses, tiaras, poodles, slumber parties, and a wardrobe filled with shoes, jewels, and sunglasses. When two women, long apart, have the chance to reunite, they squeal that girlie squeal.* There's plenty of flouncing, preening, and weeping Because The World Can Be Tough Sometimes.
Every frame of this film was specifically designed to assault my testicles. Nay: to make me question their existence. Halfway through the viewing, I was convinced I was a she-male; by the end, I knew I'd been transgendered. I looked down at myself, at my glorious tits and voluptuous ass, and affirmed that I was, as Lorianne would say, fabulous.
Luckily, the film ended.
I was, just barely, restored to myself. As the lights came back on, I thought I caught Jang-woong surreptitiously checking that his dong was still in place; I wouldn't have been surprised to find out that it had slithered out of the theater to have a nerve-calming smoke outside. The evening was that traumatic.
*A cultural phenomenon, that: Korean chicas, thank God, don't squeal except during sex.
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