(Sorry I’ve been out of touch for so long. I’ve just started a new part-time job that’s keeping me busy–a punishing three hours a week of teaching businessmen in the financial sector how to brush up on their English. Since the job is from eight in the morning to nine, it’s screwed up my sleep cycles; I normally reserve blogging for the wee hours–say, from five to six in the morning, when my wife Jina is safely asleep and snoring her way across the “big seas of. . .her dreams” to quote Dylan Thomas–and I can’t do that these days thanks to the cockamamie job. On a more positive note, Jina and I have made some new friends and are actually having about ten people over for a party this evening–a custom virtually unheard of here in Korea. It should be a novel experience since there will be no alcohol involved, but lots of scintillating conversation, much of it in a language that remains unfathomable to me. To be fair though, Jina told me that our friends don’t get most of my jokes, so we’re even. Without further ado, here are those jokes for you. If you don’t like them, there are plenty of other websites available out there. Happy surfing!)
Two Chinese children are arguing about their geography class in the school cafeteria.
“Taiwan isn’t part of China–it’s a sovereign nation.”
“No, it isn’t!”
“How much do you want to bet?”
“What do you mean? It belongs to China too. Besides, we’re talking about Taiwan, not Tibet!”
Q) Who has Mitt Romney, who thinks corporations are people, chosen as his running mate?
A) Exxon-Mobil. (Poor BP’s going to cry herself to sleep every night. That’s one gusher I wouldn’t want to be privy to.)
Teacher: Johnny, can you use “harassment” in a sentence?
Johnny: Why certainly, Madame. Last year, when I was in first grade, I had a teacher who was effortlessly gentle and patient with the students, no matter how slow we were in mastering phonics. Her sweet, low voice was as soft as her skin, and she often wore dresses and skirts that enabled us to appreciate the contours of her calves and the lovely curves of her shoulders and arms. Unlike you, she never blew up at us or shattered pieces of chalk against the back wall of the classroom. Finally, she had magnificently loopy handwriting when she scrawled the letters of the alphabet on the board. Anyway, in response to your question, her ass meant a lot to me.
Got to sign off now, as my wife’s up and crackin’ the whip again. Later, folks!