(Laura Ingraham is an angry prude who hates boobies.)
Yesterday, I took my family to a restaurant. We had spicy chicken and fried rice cake for dinner. The meal was a little too ethnic for my taste. But I didn't complain. I just smiled and ate my vittles. I'm wonderful that way. The establishment offered free soda, so I drank a gallon of Coke. I'll be dead soon. But I'm not complaining. After all, what's a boy to do?
We went to the cinema and watched Robocop. I loved the film. It features some of my all-time favorite actors. Samuel L. Jackson plays a conservative talk show host. Michael Keaton portrays an evil businessman. And Gary Oldman shines as a brilliant but conflicted scientist. However, keep one thing in mind. I'm not too bright. I have the mind of a 12-year-old boy. Therefore, my idea of art might be completely screwed.
We walked back to our Soviet-style concrete tenement. Korean cities are marvelous after dark. They come alive with loud music and bright neon lights. Lots of drunken men roam the streets. Yet street crime is almost non-existent. It's not a bad place to raise a family. I never stress about The Children of the Rice falling victim to drug dealers or violence.
I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. No big surprise. I refuse to live my life like a filthy atheist. I went to bed at 11 p.m. I didn't dream. I woke up at 7 a.m. and drank several cups of coffee. Then I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break.
The entire peninsula is still bitterly disappointed that Kim Yuna failed to bring the gold medal back to the ROK. But I really don't care one way or the other. In my humble opinion, figure skating is a sport which appeals primarily to dissatisfied housewives and bored homosexuals. The world moves forward.
I turned on Fox News. Laura Ingraham was a guest on The Factor. She's angry about the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Laura feels the models reveal too much of their delicious youthful bodies. Have you ever noticed that it's always middle-aged flat-chested crones who want the younger generation to cover their breasts? Get a life, Ms. Ingraham. Our planet is filled with enough bitter old church ladies. Please don't add to their numbers.
Anyway, let's enjoy the song du jour. Here's Hocus Pocus by Focus. God bless.