Sunday, May 5, 2013


(Walter White is the greatest psycopath in television history.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady served pork and French fries for dinner.  She didn't use any spice.  I like hot food a great deal.  But my taste buds needed the rest.  Lately, her meals have been melting my teeth.

My sister-in-law came for a visit.  She brought her two children.  Smith's apartment is far too small for such festivities.  So the entire family slept in a public bathhouse.  Sleeping in bathhouses is very common here on the peninsula.  I don't know why.  Asia's strange.

I watched Breaking Bad.  I've seen the series a million times.  It's my favorite.  Walt is the greatest psychopath in television history.  He's pure evil.

I paid homage to Christ.  I said the Lord's Prayer in the closet--as per instructions.  And why not?  I'm no match for God's will.  I know my place in this world.  On my knees.

I went to bed at 10 p.m.  I kept coughing.  Perhaps I've contracted bird flu.  Soon I'll be dead.  I'll certainly miss chatting with the Children of the Rice.  But no more alarm clocks!  Yippeee.

I woke up at 6 a.m.  I drank coffee and read the paper.  A man from Kentucky repeatedly raped an underage female.  He hid in Korea for several years using an alias.  The FBI and the Korean authorities finally apprehended him.  He's committed no crimes in the ROK.  So he'll be extradited to the United States as soon as the possible.

I turned on Fox News.  The world is going to hell in a hand-basket.  The network blames the liberal agenda for the current sorry state of affairs.  However, everything will be right as rain if we come to our senses and start greasing Syrians in another illegal war.  Same old story, same old song and dance.

I'm busy these days.  I might cut my blog entries to twenty a month.  That should fulfill my Christian requirement of spreading The Word.

Anyway, talk to you later.  God bless. 


  1. Sorry you're feeling so poorly, Smith. Good chance it's not bird flu. Don't think you can just go off and die and shirk your duties as a father, a husband and a blogger. Ain't gonna work that way. Set your alarm.

    Just kidding. I don't know how you manage to blog every day. I don't have enough original thoughts to blog once a month.

    Take care of yourself. Peace to you brother Smith.


    1. I don't know what's wrong.

      I feel horrible.



Thanks for stopping by. Smith.