Thursday, May 18, 2006

go, Sir Ian!

[NB: In an earlier draft of this post, I committed the cardinal sin of geekdom when I confused Sir Ian McKellen with Christopher Lee. Christopher Lee is known among many geeks as Count Dooku the White for his portrayals of the Sith Lord Tyranus-- a.k.a. Count Dooku-- in George Lucas's Star Wars prequels, and Saruman the White in Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy. Sir Ian McKellen, in the meantime, is known for his portrayal of the wizard Gandalf the Grey (later the White). I'm trying to decide how best to expiate my sin. Would the sacrifice of my old hard drive be enough to appease the Divine Motherboard?]





The openly gay Sir Ian McKellen, one of the stars of the new movie "The Da Vinci Code" and better known to most sci-fi/fantasy geeks as the wizard Gandalf, has come out again, this time to say that the Bible is a work of fiction (read toward the bottom):

If "The Da Vinci Code" was already feeding the flames of controversy with its challenge to the basic tenets of Christianity, actor Ian McKellen managed to pour a refinery tank's worth of gasoline on the fire on this morning's 'Today' show, asserting that the Bible should carry a disclaimer saying that it is "fiction."

Matt Lauer, in his second day "On The Road With The Code," was in Cannes for the film festival, where the Code will have its debut. It has already been screened to some critics, who have given it decidedly mixed reviews.

As I reported here, NBC reporter Melissa Stark yesterday dipped a timid toe in the sea of controversy when she interviewed Code director Ron Howard, asking how he reacted to the controversy the movie has created . . . for the Church! Sounding more like a sensitivity trainer than a Hollywood director, Howard offered up some ambiguous prose about it being healthy thing for people to engage their beliefs.

Lauer took the bull of controversy more directly by the horns when he interviewed the cast and director Howard today. Said Lauer:

"There have been calls from some religious groups, they wanted a disclaimer at the beginning of this movie saying it is fiction because one of the themes in the book really knocks Christianity right on its ear, if Christ survived the crucifixion, he did not die for our sins and therefore was not resurrected. What I'm saying is, people wanted this to say 'fiction, fiction, fiction'. How would you all have felt if there was a disclaimer at the beginning of the movie? Would it have been okay with you?"

There was a pause, and then famed British actor Ian McKellen [Gandalf of Lord of the Rings], piped up:

"Well, I've often thought the Bible should have a disclaimer in the front saying this is fiction. I mean, walking on water, it takes an act of faith. And I have faith in this movie. Not that it's true, not that it's factual, but that it's a jolly good story. And I think audiences are clever enough and bright enough to separate out fact and fiction, and discuss the thing after they've seen it."

With the camera focused on McKellen, one could hear a distinctly nervous laugh in the background, seeming to come from either actor Tom Hanks or director Howard. McKellen's stunning bit of blasphemy is likely to test the adage that all publicity is good publicity.

As a Christian with a very liberal theological outlook, I have no trouble with Sir Ian's declaration. I'm not even convinced that he's wrong, because I agree that large chunks of the Bible probably are pious fabrications-- or at the very least, constructions representing both nascent and well-established biases within various religious communities (see, for example, the Johannine Circle and the way the Greek phrase hoi ioudaioi is employed to polemical effect in the Johannine writings).

But my inner religious scholar quibbles with Sir Ian insofar as it is, technically, incorrect to dismiss the entirety of the Bible as fiction (perhaps this isn't what Sir Ian was doing). Archaeology has both confirmed and discomfirmed claims found in the scriptures; the natural sciences have, arguably, debunked many other claims.

The Bible probably does contain fiction; whether one should label it simply as fiction is another matter, with much depending on how one defines literary genres (consider that one would be right to use the "fiction" label to describe A Tale of Two Cities, which also contains actual history).

How important are the scriptures to a community of belief? What relevance can they have outside that community? The question of the role of scripture has been dealt with in detail by Wilfred Cantwell Smith, whose book What is Scripture? (which covers scriptures from most of the major world religions) should be required reading for people interested in the textual aspects of comparative religious studies.

Christians who are scriptural non-literalists have to deal with the question of why exactly the Bible-- and not, say, Shakespeare-- has pride of place in the modern Christian worldview. Shakespeare's works, taken as a whole, deal with most of the same existential issues confronted in the Bible: living, dying, marriage, sex, victory, defeat, truth, deceit, love, loyalty, faith, piety, etc.-- questions of immediate relevance to one's situation. Shakespeare's works are also often a mixture of fact and fiction, and some of his words are so profound that they have an almost mystical weight and evoke emotions that are recognizably religious in character.

So, Dear Reader, why not replace the Bible with Shakespeare, if there's so little difference between the Word of the Lord and the words of the Bard? Why not simply collect poems by articulate homeless people, bind them together in a single volume, and replace the Bible with that?

If you're fairly conservative in your religious outlook, I doubt this will be much of an issue for you. But if you're not so conservative, then it's a good question to ponder, because some conservatives will wonder how, exactly, scripture is meaningful to you.

I have my own answers to these questions, but what are yours?

(Feel free to comment no matter what your religious orientation might be.)


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Ave, Rory!

I find myself strangely aroused by this image.


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Wednesday, May 17, 2006

ddaeng-k'yoo

A special note of thanks to MKL, a gent who doesn't even know me. After reading my blog entry on the subject, M has decided-- purely out of the goodness of his heart-- to mail me an extra copy of Mac's OS 9.2 system software. This kicks ass in more than the standard three dimensions. Very soon, I'll be able to access my scanner and camera software, with the added benefit of doing so without having to restart my computer every time I need to switch OSes.

ALL BOW DOWN BEFORE THE MKL!

I'm impressed by the generosity of people around me. Many moons ago, Sperwer gave me some of his disposable contact lenses after he'd read about how one of my lenses had ripped. Various readers have chimed in with encouragement during my many periods of sickness, while others have sent various gross videos and shit-related links my way. I've also been peppered with intelligent questions about religion (not all of which I've answered, I realize). And along with those good folks are people like Joel and the Nomad, both of whom have sent me fantastic victuals (peanut brittle and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, respectively; I happily overdosed on both).

The universe is, at least for the moment, congenial to my existence. Reason enough to be thankful.


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a new gorge, George!

We don't need a wall between the US and Mexico. I think we should build a gigantic canyon-- one that spans the entire US-Mexico border. Imagine the surprise on José's face when he finishes digging his border-crossing tunnel and finds himself suddenly plummeting into a 500-foot chasm with nothing but rocks and cacti and genetically engineered fang-snails at the bottom.

Then again, with all the dirt excavated from the canyon, perhaps we should build a wall. Or maybe not a wall-- it should be something more fun. How about a labyrinth? A labyrinth stocked with all our fiercest racists? Yes: racists that have been genetically fused with our killer fang-snails! Ever met a snail dat hates yo' off-white ass? Well, imagine millions of them charging at you.

A few miles back from the border, on the US side, we should also get some Hollywood geniuses to build enormous scenes of nuclear devastation: a Mexican's first view of the US should reveal vast, smoking craters, wrecked buildings, and rotting corpses-- a grim tableau of shattered lives and dashed hopes. The only sound our Mexican should hear is absolute silence, broken by the terrified scream of a lonely infant and the growl of a feral dog tugging tentatively at its limbs.

That, or we should invest in gateway teleportation technology: every Mexican who crosses an invisible line will suddenly find himself in Pyongyang, there to face Kim Jong Il, the most fearsome fang-snail of all.


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a car that runs on water?

I was captivated by the news story pointed out by the Lost Nomad re: the dude who found a way to convert water into combustible elements, then use them to create both superhot blowtorches and a car that can run 100 miles on four ounces of water.

The euphoria lasted until I got done teaching classes a couple hours later, at which point my inner skeptic reasserted itself. I decided to consult a friend of mine who's an engineer. His take: it's probably bullshit. According to my buddy, the story of "the car that runs on water" has been around for years.

Over at the Nomad's blog, skeptics have voiced doubt over the news segment's claims.

We'll just have to wait and see, but for now, it doesn't seem that water will be our ticket away from dependence on foreign oil.

The news segment in question:




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go forth and read

Wikipedia is currently featuring a good survey of the issues in philosophy of mind.


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blogging from home again

I'm only now beginning to realize the many little conveniences I've lost since my hard drive crashed (I've still got its rotting corpse), but it's nice to be able to blog from home again. Blogging from the office sucks.

There's still a lot to do, in terms of programs to be reinstalled. I have yet to check and reconfigure my printer connection, and I still need to cough up the money to buy OS 9.2 in order to run my scanner and camera software. I'll work on these issues in the coming days. The essential thing is that the Hairy Chasms are once again pooting away from home.


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Tuesday, May 16, 2006

yesterday was Teacher's Day

I had forgotten, when I lumber-waddled into class yesterday, that May 15th was Teacher's Day in Korea. I ended up with a very nice bouquet of flowers from one class, and two roses (along with a card) from another. Today my Tuesday 9AM class, despite the fact that I smacked them with a quiz, held a belated Teacher's Day party, and I ended up with another bouquet-- as well as a card with a brief message in French: "C'est un cadeau pour toi"-- This is a gift for you.

The card I got on Monday had messages in English from my 1PM class (which I'd probably call my "favorite," though I like most of my classes this semester). The messages (fondly left uncorrected):


Thank you for teaching us *
I'm very happy to meet you!!!

--Eun-jeong

I appriciate that you are my teacher.
I love you, Kevin.

--Seung-min

You are a great teacher
I like you ~ *

--Ryeong

I like you~
You are humorous, generous, and nice!!
Thanks a lot *

--Bo-hee

Kevin is always kind ~ !!
I want to study English more ~ *
Thank you!

--Ayumi (my lone Japanese student)

I like Kevin
Thank you to teach us

--Young-im

I like this class!!
You are a very good teacher~ .
I will study hard to speak well with you!
Thank you~

--Myung-hwa

The above is probably familiar to English teachers in East Asia. Such displays of feeling are more difficult to find in places like America, where largely self-absorbed* students tend to view teachers as peripheral to their existence-- as people to get past so they can get on with life. The only person who ever thanked me when I was a French teacher at a Catholic high school in the States was a girl of Asian ethnicity. Two long years and only one thank-you.

Believe me, I feel lucky to be here sometimes. And this job at Smoo, whatever its bad points, remains the best job I've ever had in Korea. Days like yesterday and today remind me of the ways I've been blessed.





*By the way, I was one of those self-absorbed people, so the above applies to me, too. I don't recall ever having thanked the majority of the teachers who taught me. I've written appreciatively about a couple of them on this blog, but haven't bothered to thank them directly. Grad school was different: I made my gratitude known to many of those teachers. But elementary school? Junior high? High school? Undergrad? In all those years, I've kept sporadic contact with only one teacher: my junior- and senior-year high school French teacher, who is truly a character. Aside from that... who?





UPDATE: Dr. Hodges has a post up with almost exactly the same title, but far more substantive content. Give his post a read, and bookmark his blog if you haven't done so already. Also, check out his post on the Korean potential for ahimsa.


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mon putain d'ordinateur: mise à jour

I took my computer in to a shop in Itaewon-- a place called Jonny Computer-- and talked with Jonny himself, a Korean guy who speaks fluent English but who spoke with me in Korean. Friendly gent, almost doctor-like in manner. We went over my computer's history and current problem; Jonny took mental notes and asked a few questions. Data recovery, it turns out, is hellishly expensive: Jonny quoted a figure of W300,000 (about $300, US), to which I politely said "No fookin' way," which immediately led to a discussion of the next best option.

Jonny cracked a smile when I shamefacedly announced that my computer was a 1999-era Mac G4 with... with... a ten gig hard drive (Rory's already made fun of me in the comments to a previous post, but as the world knows, I crap bigger than Rory does). He said the smallest drive he had in stock was a 40-gig. The cost for purchasing the drive and performing the replacement was W90,000, which I could live with. I don't have the proper tools at home to effect the installation myself (including that nifty little anti-shock grounding wire), so I didn't mind coughing up the extra bucks to have a pro do it right. It's not always a good idea to do it yourself if you're not sure what you're doing.

Jonnie told me to come back in about an hour, so I strolled across the way to What the Book, the foreign bookstore that sells new and used books. I found two magnificent ones: an introduction to the New Testament by Catholic scholar Ray Brown, who was a giant in his field; I also got a book on Tibetan debate, which will fill in some massive gaps in my below-rudimentary knowledge of Buddhist philosophy. I also bought two other books: Karen Armstrong's short little tome, Buddha, and Alan Moore's graphic novel V for Vendetta, a story I'd rather read instead of seeing the recent movie.

A bright, sunny, delightful day... but now I'm back in the office and getting ready to do some more test rating. I will have rated over 70 students by Thursday, and will be paid peanuts for my work. Still, it's a bit of extra money in the bank, and considering the hit my bank account just took (books plus computer repair), the extra money is welcome.

And that's probably it for my splurging-- for a long, long while. Christmas 2006 will see the end of major credit card debt; by 2007, the only debt left to me will be my massive Sallie Mae loan debt, and that's going to take decades (no, literally!) to pay off. The Sallie Mae payment plan is low-interest and divided into manageable monthly installments, which means I'll have the breathing room to start saving for the trips I'd been hoping to make this year, including a jaunt to Europe to see my French family and perhaps hit Switzerland for a long, long hike. 2007 will be, I hope, a better year for travel.


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I know I'm going to hell because...

I laughed my ass off when I read this.


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Monday, May 15, 2006

shit story

Stand back. You might not want to read this, especially if you're squeamish, because this is a story about male plumbing, and it's based on something that happened today.





Men are builders and explorers. Their overall behavior is modeled after the shape and function of their genitals: probing, invasive, lacking subtlety, often causing fear and delight.

Men build with their brains and their hands. Consider skyscrapers, towers, houses, apartment complexes, and igloos: monuments to the male building urge are everywhere on this planet. Massively complex mathematical structures and abstruse, skirling chains of logic are generally the products of male minds. Great probes are flung like whale-sized spermatozoa into the vast womb of space, borne upon penis-shaped booster rockets that push the probes toward weird planets tucked into Fallopian orbits. Men: they build with their brains and their hands.

But men also build with their asses.

Ladies: when a man takes a shit, make no mistake that he sees himself engaged in a great endeavor-- perhaps the greatest endeavor of all: the attempt to craft something memorable out of a substance generally immune to stacking. The process happens about daily for most men; some of us are privileged to engage in it several times a day; others hold themselves back for several days, then extrude monstrous, paradoxical, snake- or sluglike sculptures that would have fascinated the likes of Moebius, Escher, and Mother Theresa.

A man instinctively knows when he has achieved greatness on the toilet. His features contort in a barbaric snarl of delight; he often utters a war cry for all to come forth and behold his achievement.

"Dude! LOOK AT THIS FUCKIN' TURD!"

Over the course of time, men eventually came to measure fecal greatness according to two criteria: (1) consistency, and (2) volume. Lucky was the man whose ass-child was both firm and large.

Today, good gentles, thanks in part to my Metamucil fiber supplement, I achieved greatness in the second-floor restroom of my building.

Unfortunately, a man at a women's university is unable to crow in victory: few women understand the arcane symbolism well enough to appreciate the profound sacramentality of an impeccably excreted superlog.

But my penis understood, and it vomited angrily.

In fact, because the urine stream was so powerful, I jokingly speculated that it would cut through a sequoia if one were there beneath me.

And right at that moment, right as the sequoia-cutting thought coalesced, the huge floating log blundered into the path of the most powerful urine stream I had ever produced.

Imagine the Unstoppable Force meeting the Immovable Object. It was a bit like that. Piss and shit were flying everywhere, like sparks from the impact inside a supercollider. Nothing was safe. What my ass had labored so long and hard to produce, my wang was attempting to undo.

But the log was adamantine. The urine stream succeeded only in blasting chunks off its surface, laser-carving the shit into a totem pole, a cylindrical bas-relief of incomprehensible alien imagery.

Then it was over.

I looked around. My surroundings reminded me of the aftermath of a tornado. The interior of the toilet cubicle looked as though it had been attacked by an impossibly huge, dung-flinging simpleton.

I stood up and leaned over the toilet to gaze in awe at the new totem pole. It shimmered in the water with uncanny luminescence, a scepter for angels. It was inscribed in a language and symbol structure beyond all human ken. I saw what my ass and schlong had created together and, profoundly moved, began weeping uncontrollably. What was I in the face of the awful mystery? A mere worm, privileged beyond measure to behold a sight never before seen and never to be seen again.

Yes, I thought to myself: I fathered this. I.


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I feel it comin'

I feel it. It's comin'.

A post on interreligious dialogue will be squeezed out of my mind's anus in the near future. I've been reading The View from Mars Hill, written last year by my favorite prof at Catholic U., Dr. Charles Jones. I'm about a fourth of the way through it, and several things have already struck me:

1. The book covers a lot of the same topics I covered as an MA student at Catholic University, including subjects in Dr. Jones's grad-level Issues in Interreligious Encounter course. It's a bit like sitting through those fascinating discussions all over again.

2. The book is also a whirlwind review of every intro-level biblical studies course I've ever done. More memories.

3. One major shock: the book deals with various theologies of religion, but makes zero mention of Raimondo Panikkar. I'm going to have to email Dr. Jones and find out why. Panikkar is a huge figure in interreligious studies. A lot of scholars approach his work with great caution, though, because his position is hard to pin down. Paul Knitter tries that trick-- pinning Panikkar down-- in another book I purchased a couple months ago: Introducing Theologies of Religions. Knitter is, like John Hick, a flaming pluralist (though somewhat constrained by his Catholicism). He's also a very readable writer; his book and Jones's book deal with greatly overlapping topics, though Knitter's book gets into the nitty-gritty of theological typologies more than Jones's does (the latter's book weighs in at barely 200 pages, and focuses far more on history than on theoretical issues).

4. I'm once again reminded of what a clear writer my teacher is. You might not end up agreeing with him, but you'll know exactly where he stands. Dr. Vallicella once wrote a post complaining about what he considered Panikkar's sloppiness. Panikkar does philosophy, but he's also something of a poet and not always given to logical clarity. Given the nondualistic nature of Panikkar's position (if "position" is the correct term), this is only natural.

Dr. Jones, by contrast, isn't about poetry: he can craft beautiful turns of phrase, but he's an academic, and that's the vibe you get when you read him. I appreciate that in a scholar. That's also one of the reasons why I'm partial to John Hick and not so partial to obfuscatory postmodernist writers like Jacques Derrida or Michel Foucault-- people who say in 500 words what takes only five to express.

The View from Mars Hill is a book intended primarily for Christians, but I think it'd be worth a read even for those who aren't Christian as a window into Christian self-understanding. Awareness of a religion's self-understanding is a necessary component of dialogue.

More on this later.

(Whoops-- I forgot to add that Dr. Jones plays a mean guitar. In stodgy religious studies circles, this sort of skill is important.)


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Sunday, May 14, 2006

no graven images

Ever wonder why it's fine to say "Muhammad" but (generally speaking) not fine to depict him?

Ever wonder why many Jews (and some Christians who have reappropriated that Jewish practice) substitute "Adonai" for "Yahweh," or write "God" with a hyphen in place of the "o"? (e.g., "G-d")

Actually, I know the answers to the above. So do most of this blog's readers. But here's the real question:

In religion, what privileges the faculties of sight and sound, making visual and auditory renderings of certain religious figures taboo?

What if we were to develop a smell that signified "Jesus" or "God" or "Buddha" or "Muhammad" or "Al Gore"? Or a taste that was somehow the shorthand for a divinity? Or a texture?

What smells would you choose? What tastes? What textures?

(Someone should write a piece on the role of saffron powder in Hinduism, or the role of incense in Buddhism, Catholicism, and other religions.)


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this will wow you

I finally found the video of that jumping dude. Get a load of this, if you haven't already.






UPDATE: In the comments to this post, Richardson leaves a link to more of this sort of fantastic jumping and climbing. The "sport"-- if it can be called that-- is known as "Parkour," from the French "parcours," a word with several meanings, including "run-by." The object of the game in Parkour is to keep moving. Anything that crosses your path as an obstacle must be dealt with in a smooth motion; there is no stopping and considering how to cope.

A great place to read about Parkour is the official English-language website for a French movie called "District B13," a near-future dysto-pic about a Paris that has responded to the urban chaos by literally walling in the various gangs, leaving them to fend for themselves. The film features two cops, one of whom is a Vin Diesel clone, the other of whom is a Parkour expert. As you might guess, they team up and kick some ass in the ganglands. Visit the "District B13" site here.

Parkour is exhilarating to watch. To me, it looks like a spinoff of the stuff Jackie Chan has been doing for years. Buster Keaton, whose stuntwork and physical comedy arguably make him the cinematic godfather of Parkour, must be smiling in heaven.

I think Parkour would be a far more interesting Olympic sport than, say, freestyle snowboarding. What does Chan thinks about all this? Has anyone asked him?


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ultimate fuel efficiency!

Imagine crossing America twice on a single gallon of gas.

I'd like to see a pic of the car in question. A British inventor has apparently created a three-wheeled car that can get 8,000 miles per gallon. Read about it here. (via Drudge)


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어머니 날

Sunday is Mother's Day in the States. Happy Mother's Day, Mom!



Love,


Kevin


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el computador

My computer will be going into a shop in Itaewon on Tuesday. During my Outback Steakhouse powwow with my friend Tom, Tom told me about a Korean guy based near the Hamilton Hotel who did good work on Tom's own computer. So I've got an appointment for Tuesday. What's likely to happen is: data recovery (if possible) and hard drive replacement & installation. It'll be up to me to reinstall software, because I don't want to pay too much for labor.

By week's end, I should be up and running again from home. A bit poorer in the bank account, perhaps, but it'll be worth it. The next step will be to download Mac OS 9.1 (still $60?!?) so I can use my scanner and upload photos from my ancient Olympus digicam.


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Saturday, May 13, 2006

authority sucks

I don't have to go to school for an entire week
I just want to go down to Newport Beach
Mom and Dad want to tell me where to go
They wanna go to Club Med San Carlos
Club Med sucks
Authority sucks
I hate golf
I wanna play lacrosse
The people there, they are so stupid
They exploit the poor and the weak
I want no part of their death culture
I just wanna go to the beach


--Camper Van Beethoven
my sophomore-year roommate in college loved this group

On the way back from a chicken-terrorizing session at Outback Steakhouse, I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing an encounter between a youngish policeman and a 40-something drunk guy in a suit. Both men were standing; the policeman had the drunk guy by the wrists while the latter yelled imprecations.

This is the norm in Korea: I doubt the drunk was arrested. I don't think our police back home have the patience to take that sort of shit for more than a few seconds.

And yet, I'd say that Korean streets are generally safer. I've heard the pop-pop-pop of gunfire at night in DC before; hard to imagine something like that occurring in Seoul.

It's a question of what you value, though: strict Confucian mores, not deep respect for the rule of law, keep the citizens in line here, but they do so at the cost of individualism. What'll it be? Tonight, my buddy Tom remarked that the most successful Koreans tend to be those who break out of the Confucian mold. Departing from the Confucian trajectory is much harder for a Korean than breaking the law. Ask any Korean woman approaching the age of 30 about the pressure she's under to get married.

However, if the argument is that the successful are those who swim against the societal current, I'd say the same argument obtains in other cultures as well: the US, for example, has its own conformist ethos (cf. any fashion or musical or political trend). Those who succeed are those who rise above the sheep: they often lead the trends. Perhaps the only real difference between American and Korean conformism is whether we rail against it or not. Americans do, but not very hard. Koreans seem largely content to conform. Those Koreans who might take exception to this observation are probably nonconformists themselves, even if they don't want to admit it.

As I passed by the policeman and the drunk, I thought about what I would do in the policeman's place. I'd probably give in to my inner Nazi, truth be told, and have the guy in an armlock right quick-- not so much because the spectacle of a drunk person rouses my ire (years ago, that used to be true), but because I wouldn't want to waste my time arguing uselessly with an idiot who won't even remember the argument later on. As a nondrinker, I suppose I have little understanding of and compassion for drunks.


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the useless Sad Turd Day

It's a gorgeous day outside. I was happy to spend a chunk of my morning and early afternoon on two useless errands in the neighborhood. The first errand took me and my comatose computer to Yongsan's Jeonja Land. Jeon-ja means "electronics"; it's one phoneme away from jeong-ja, which means "sperm."

The Mac center, located on the third floor of the building, was unable to help me; they provided me with a number for a Mac service center in Ch'ungmuro, but they were unhelpful, too.

I lugged my Mac back to my dorm, then went on my second useless errand: to pay my phone bill. The guy at the LG Telecom office told me that I didn't have to pay anything. I replied that this was strange, because I had just received an email from LG saying I needed to pay W48,000 for the month of April (the fee includes a late penalty-- bad Kevin). The guy shrugged and said, "Just come back a bit before the 26th of the month." And that was that.

So I lumber-waddled to Smoo, spent a few hours doing exam ratings (extra work we occasionally get from one of the offices in my building), and am contemplating what I'll be having for dinner. I'm also working on a Korean-to-English translation that someone like Charles could probably do in five minutes, but which has already taken me a couple hours (I started Friday evening). I'm pretty sure I'll be back in this office after dinner, not merely to finish the translation, but also because-- just as I was typing these lines-- another request for more test ratings arrived in my email box.

I'm not sure how best to proceed with my hard drive woes. The emailer/commenter consensus seems to be that (1) the data are probably gone, and (2) I should just get a new hard drive. I suppose I need to buy a hard drive that hasn't been formatted, but I don't know whether my Mac OS X installer software will automatically format the disk. I assume it will, but that's an expensive assumption. Where to buy, though? From a Korean seller? From an American source online? From somewhere else?

In the comments, Jason asked whether I wouldn't want to just buy another computer. He suggested the Mac Mini. Strangely enough, I found myself looking at the Mac Mini while at the Mac Center in Sperm Land today, and saw that it costs almost W700,000. There's no way I can afford that. I can barely afford a train ticket to Pusan and back. I've been wanting a new computer for a while, but that's going to have to wait until next year. For the moment, the best thing to do is shop smart, get a new hard drive, and get back online from my dorm as quickly as possible. As much as I like my office, I'd rather be blogging from the comfort of my own surroundings, snugly wrapped in a thick, warm cloud of fart gas.


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beach balls and other round things

From my brother David, who knows I can't photoblog anything right now:




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