(NOTE: This is the introduction to my new book "더 발칙한 한국학" or "More Nasty Korean Studies." I kind of went off
the deep end with it, but then again I guess that's kind of the point. There are quite a few words in Han'gul here, mainly for
the benefit of the translator, and I don't really feel like changing them back to English for now, just because I feel like they're
an intrinsic part of the original essay. For the benefit of the Han'gul-challenged, however, I've included a glossary at the end
for reference.)
서문
Greetings, esteemed and gentle reader! It's been two years since I released my last book, "대한민국 사용후기," so I think you
must be wondering what's been happening in my life since then, right?
For a while, I got it into my head that I really needed to update my image, to "rebrand" myself as marketing gurus like to say.
I realized that no one really takes books very seriously anymore, what with the Internet and everything, plus I admit I was in
kind of a bad mood when I wrote "대한민국 사용후기," and wanted to put that part of my life behind me. I needed to be more
than just an old-fashioned, 20th century-style "writer" if I wanted to get anywhere in life and really be "somebody" in the 21st
century modern world, and I certainly didn't want to be known as a "writer with a bad attitude" for the rest of my life.
In a word, I needed a new "gimmick." Since I'm not Korean, but I like to comment on Korean culture and society, I decided
that my best chance to reach a wider audience here was to become a regular panelist on "미녀들의 수다." After all, when
Koreans want to know "what foreigners think about Korea," that's the first thing they turn to, isn't it? But there were a few
snags with that idea. First of all, I'm hardly "beautiful," and even more problematic, I'm obviously not a member of the "fairer
sex." Oh, and I have no clue about how women actually think. As they say in baseball, "Three strikes and you're out!"
Yes, it was a difficult situation. But I was pretty sure that there would never be a show in Korea called "추남들의 수다," so
I knew that I would need to make a bold move if I was going to make my dream a reality. Then one night when I was out in
이태원, I had a flash of inspiration after meeting a lovely lady from Thailand who turned out not to be a lady at all. That's
right, "she" used to be a "he." And when we walked down the street together, every single head -- male and female -- turned
to gaze at her in either envy or admiration. Hey, if my friend could be transformed into a "미녀" through the miracle of
modern medical technology, so could I!
My path to a higher level of fame and celebrity in Korea now seemed clear. I thought of the great 하리수, a pioneer of
surgically enhanced goddesshood, and decided that she would be my model and inspiration. Since my Korean name was
왕백수, I would change it to "왕리수," or maybe "미리수" in honor of my American heritage. I would hire a female
ghostwriter, ideally with lots of 애교, and quickly put out a book entitled "미녀가 된 미국아담," and announce my plans
to star in "노랑머리 3," which wouldn't be that hard since I have blond hair, anyway. Maybe I would even call up my old
friend 이박사 and ask if he wanted to record an album together called "신바람 템테이션." I would be the first foreign man
to become a "Made in Korea" woman. I would be huge!
But the devil is in the details, of course, and the more I thought about my plan for superstardom, the more a number of
devilish details got in the way. Gender reassignment surgery costs tens of millions of 원, and I'd have to work at least a
couple of years to save up that kind of cash; by the time I was done I might wind up looking less like a perky 아가씨 than
a stout 아줌마 of the "third gender" type. That would not exactly be part of the plan, considering the nature of the show
that I was aiming for. I'm also not a very good actor, and worried that I could only handle "doing 애교" in a whiny voice
and saying "오빠" at the start of every sentence for about 5 minutes -- before projectile vomiting on national Korean television.
And you have to admit that there are certain advantages to being a guy, like being able to pee standing up when you're out
hiking on a mountain. Would I really be able to give that up?
Then came a realization that was pretty much a dealbreaker. I've always liked women, and could never understand what women
see in men since women are so much more attractive and beautiful in every way. In short, I could never go for a man myself.
But if I hooked up with or married a girl in the future, and I was a girl myself, would that make me a lesbian? Not that there's
anything wrong with being a lesbian, but this whole scenario was starting to get just a little too complicated and confusing. I
could see how I might wind up having a serious identity crisis, no doubt right in front of the whole nation. I mean, did I really
want to become an 아줌마 lesbian and star in a lame sexploitation flick just to get on a lame TV show that would probably be
cancelled by the time I was ready for it? Was I really that committed? Honestly, not unless I actually wanted to be committed.
And so there I was again, right back to square one. Well, at least I could still go mountain climbing, and enjoy it my own
special "manly" way.
* * * * *
After that, I became depressed and got lost in the Internet for a while. The best thing about the Internet is that it's not real life.
The worst thing about the Internet is that it's not real life. It's kind of like having sex with yourself and using a condom. Or
smoking a cigarette without inhaling, and pretending it's high-grade marijuana. Basically, the Internet is 하리수.
Either way, the promotional opportunities of the Internet were infinite, if only I could harness its digital magic somehow and
make my personal brand truly "buzzworthy." Could I transform myself into an online "viral marketing sensation"? Could I
become a "meme" and replicate myself in Korean cyberspace endlessly? Could I become the next "개똥녀," except in a really
good way? That might be kind of risky. I wouldn't want to infect myself with my own virus and effectively commit public
suicide, or warp-speed "brand implosion." I definitely wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of the local "Netizens." Korean
Netizens, I think all you "keyboard warriors" are doing an outstanding job out there, and by the way, did I tell you that I really
love 독도?
Now there was an idea. I could make a feel-good video called "Where the Hell Is 독도?" shot in front of landmarks in 42
countries around the world; in it, I would be dancing an endearingly quirky jig over New Age music, while holding up a
sign reading "독도는 우리땅!" I might have to shoot at least a dozen different scenes in Japan alone, especially in Shimane
Prefecture. I'd upload it to www.kingbaeksu.com and watch it shoot straight to the top of Naver and Daum, and maybe even
get invited to 청와대. Would 김정일 like it and decide that he didn't hate Americans so much after all? Would my little video
help bring peace to the Korean Peninsula? Was 통일 right around the corner?
Oops, sorry! Forget I wrote that last sentence. I didn't mean to use the "ㅌ" word. I didn't mean to be such a "downer."
Obviously, I wouldn't want my brand to be a buzzkill, or to stay forever stuck in the 20th century. So not cool! By the
way, did I mention that I really love 독도?
Perhaps it would be easier to just start an online rumor that I was distantly related to Guus Hiddink? I could piggyback on
the great man's past triumphs here, and thereby become only the second "honorary Korean citizen" in history. That wouldn't
be too hard to pull off, since all white people look the same, don't they? In all seriousness, I knew I would never become a
"national hero" here writing a bunch of dusty old books about Korean culture, which is so much less worthy and "culturally
relevant" than teaching some local kids how to kick a ball around and bounce it on their head. Why can't there be a World
Cup for authors and writers? If I taught Korean youngsters how to juggle ironic pop-cultural references, or even more useful,
how to steal faddish concepts and story ideas from rival media in an artful way, would the South Korean government give me
a free villa on 제주도, too?
Clearly, I was spending too much time dreaming of ways of becoming famous, instead of getting any actual work done. I guess
I wasn't as special or unique as I thought I was, since that's what everyone else was doing, too, right? No wonder no one had
time to read books anymore. They were all too busy "social networking" and "blogging" and "up-and-downloading." Maybe
it would be better to start a blog myself, and just kind of pretend that I was a writer? It didn't seem like it would take too much
effort. I mean, who needed "demanding editors," when it was so much easier to just "copy and paste"? Who needed to waste
time "doing research" and "fact-checking," when opinions were so much more "fun" and "user friendly"? Who needed readers,
when everyone was now a writer, anyway?
Indeed, who needed "reality," when the images online were so much brighter and shinier? When I died, would I discover that
heaven had been designed by Adobe Systems? Would hell mean not being able to upload my soul to Adobe Heaven?
For many months, I spent almost all my waking hours online. I became an "인터넷 폐인." I was a hermit in the Hermit
Kingdom. My life was almost the exact opposite of Neo's fantastic, terrifying journey in "The Matrix": I had swallowed
the red pill and fallen into the bottomless rabbit hole of cyberspace. Maybe I should have taken the blue pill instead? Maybe
I shouldn't have taken any pills at all? Who were the pillmakers, and what was their "agenda"? If I downloaded "The Matrix"
and watched it again online in search of more clues, would that mean that "The Matrix" was itself part of The Matrix? Was
escape even possible?
Sometimes I felt like my brain had been "remote accessed" and turned into a "zombie computer." Sometimes I wondered if
I was thinking through the Internet, or if the Internet was thinking through me. Sometimes I felt like the Internet had become
an extension of my thought and consciousness, and that without it, I was "incomplete." Was personal memory even necessary
in the Age of Wikipedia and Google? Had "search" rendered "thinking" obsolete?
Sometimes I missed "being human." Sometimes I missed "reality." Sometimes I even missed Korea.
In retrospect, there was a perfectly practical reason for my predicament. I was still theoretically a "writer," which for most
"wordsmiths" and "scribblers" nowadays entails sitting in front of a computer screen for long stretches at a time. The problem
was that after years of resisting "progress," I had finally caved in and gotten a high-speed Internet hookup at home; before that
I had limited myself to brief daily forays to the local PC방, knowing myself and my "addictive personality" all too well. After
all, I'm a product of the modern world just like everyone else; addiction, the very engine of capitalism and consumption, is
what makes today's world go 'round and 'round. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I signed up for KT's Megapass Internet
service. I guess I thought I would be strong enough to "maintain focus." I guess I thought I would be able to keep it "under
control." Boy, I was wrong.
Whenever I didn't feel like writing, I could just open my MacBook's Safari Web browser for a while to "take a short break."
Soon it was hours later. I became fascinated by conspiracy theories, which were all over the Web. Was 9/11 really an "inside
job"? Was the stock market "rigged," and did the Rockefeller and Rothschild families have something to do with it? Who
were the "Illuminati" exactly? Was there such a thing as a "New World Order," and was it inevitable? Was the world really
controlled by "reptilian shapeshifters from another dimension"? Were Internet conspiracy theories themselves just a big
conspiracy to make people even more stupid? Just another way to keep everyone "distracted" and "under control"? Was
escape even possible?
After I got bored with conspiracy theories, I became obsessed with YouTube. I watched music videos and live-concert footage
of all my favorite groups from the 1980s, like New Order, The Smiths and Eric B. and Rakim. I wondered if I could ever
"relate" to a South Korean woman who didn't think that Morrissey and Johnny Marr were both musical geniuses? Could two
people truly love each other if only one of them had heard "How Soon Is Now?" in high school when it first came out, and
had the course of their life fundamentally altered as a result? Was YouTube starting to make me feel "old" and "culturally
adrift"? Such realizations depressed me all the more, and soon the days disappeared into weeks and months.
Maybe I was just listening to too many morbid Smiths songs? In search of further distraction and relief, I clicked on more
"contemporary" YouTube offerings, just to see what "the kids" were up to these days. Apparently, exhibitionism was very
"contemporary," and apparently a lot of people liked to "watch." I wondered why thousands of American teenage girls alone
in their bedrooms felt compelled to upload videos of themselves dancing in their underwear to "gangsta" rap or Aqua's
"Barbie Girl." Did they think it was going to help them get a better job after they graduated? Did they know something I
didn't? Judging by the millions of "hits" they got, it seems they did. If they were living in Korea, chances are they'd already
be sitting in the front row of "미녀들의 수다." Was having breasts more useful than having a brain? Was YouTube just
another Internet conspiracy to make everyone take off their clothes and act really stupid? Was YouTube the new "boob tube"?
Was escape even possible?
As you can see, I had a lot of questions. I can't say I had many answers. Was it possible my head was simply full of too much
information? Does the average human brain have a finite storage capacity? Was my inability to concentrate due to the fact that
I had no more "room" to think? Did I need a firewall around my cranium? How long before my head just exploded?
Seeking answers and advice, I called up my old friend Kevin, a holistic healer and natural therapy practitioner in 북촌. He
suggested that overexposure to "toxic pollution" in the form of "electromagnetic smog" might be my problem. I looked around
my room and realized that I was surrounded by electrical wires and all manner of wireless devices and electronic appliances.
Bathing my brain in the radiation glow of my computer screen for hours on end probably didn't help, either. No wonder I felt
like my head might go "pop" -- I was slowly being cooked in a giant microwave oven!
But what was I supposed to do? I was living in the modern world. I was living in the 21st century. Was I supposed to just run
away and go live in a cave like Osama bin Laden and grow a long beard and pretend it was the 7th century? I can't say that
would really help "update" my image, and I don't think I'd look very good in an enormous, shaggy beard, anyway. Becoming
a lesbian 아줌마 might actually be preferable. At least I'd have breasts, and the modern world might start to take me a bit
more seriously.
Depressed and distracted, I decided to check out YouTube again for a while.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, I had begun work on the book you now hold in your hands. Let me tell you, it's been a long journey. It's been a
real struggle. There were times when I thought I might lose my mind. There were times when I thought I actually did. But now
that I'm done, I look back and realize that making this book has saved my life.
When I first conceived this book two years ago, the idea was quite simple: To make a sequel to "발칙한 한국학," which was
published in 2002 and was a fairly popular book about "foreigners in Korea." At the time, I was planning to leave Korea soon,
and wanted to go out on "a positive note." I admit my last book was rather "provocative." Believe me, my heart was in the
right place when I wrote "대한민국 사용후기," but I think there were a few people here didn't quite "get" it. Shortly after
it came out, some Korean Netizens even launched an online campaign to get me fired from my old job at 홍익대학교. I guess
it was encouraging to know that some people still took books so seriously, but I kind of felt bad that such people had
misunderstood me and my "message" so completely. Maybe I wasn't such a good "social critic" after all. Maybe I just "didn't
understand Korea." But I felt I at least understood a little about "foreigners" in Korea, if only because I was a long-term
"foreigner" here myself. And so I decided to make one last book about "foreigners in Korea" before I said goodbye to this
country, just to show that there were no "hard feelings" between me and Korea. I wanted to make a book that was "enjoyable"
and "entertaining," and helped spread "good feelings" and "better understanding" all around.
But now I realize that my original conception for this book was rather superficial and trite. This is not a book about "foreigners
in Korea." This is a book about what it means to be human. This is a book about what it means to be alive. Most of all, this is a
book about friendship. This is a book about some of the special people in my life who I proudly call my friends. In this crazy
modern world, love may come and go for many of us, but true friendship lasts forever.
During my "dark period" as an "인터넷 폐인," I spent a lot of time reading and commenting on blogs run by and popular with
English-speaking Westerners in South Korea. Many of them are native English teachers, which is only natural since they're
generally "educated" and have more spare time for such online activities than your average "3D" worker from Southeast Asia
or China. All in all, it seemed a lot of them weren't very happy about their "place" in South Korean society, and if there was
a single, persistent theme among their many complaints, it was that the local media weren't really giving them a "fair shake."
More than anything else, they just didn't feel like they were very well appreciated or respected here.
Indeed, over the past few years, a certain "meme" or media stereotype has come to dominate local perceptions of native English
teachers in Korea, and to a lesser extent Westerners here in general. It started in early 2005, when a few native English teachers
posted some provocative "dirty dancing" photos at a club in 홍대앞 on their Web site, and set off a firestorm in the local media
and in Korean cyberspace: "Low-quality foreigners" in Korea were "corrupting" local women, it was felt by many here, and a
significant number of them were native English teachers who were "unqualified" and "morally unfit" for their jobs. In late
2007, this "internal threat" became more ominous and sinister when it was discovered that a notorious Canadian pedophile had
been teaching English in 광주, although he was arrested in Thailand and had not committed any known crimes here in Korea;
this prompted the 법무부 to introduce a variety of tough new regulations for E-2 visa applicants seeking employment as ESL
teachers here, including criminal background checks, drug testing and even HIV tests. At this point, the meme of "low-quality
native English teachers" has become so pervasive and powerful in the local media that I believe Western English teachers in
Korea have become the new "GIs" in the eyes of many South Koreans: Just as GIs have traditionally been seen here as a
"necessary evil" who are only tolerated for "the good of the country," and were widely resented in the past when they were
still relatively "rich" by local standards, it seems that many South Koreans today view native English teachers here in much
the same harsh light. During WWII, a great many GIs were stationed in Britain as part of the Allied war effort against Nazi
Germany, and a popular expression used at the time by Brits to describe them seems to mirror the way many Koreans feel
about native English teachers here today: "Overpaid, Oversexed and over Here."
When I think of my best non-Korean friends in Korea, many of whom have taught English here from time to time, or like
me first came to Korea to teach English before branching out to other activities here, this meme of "low-quality native English
teachers" bears no relation to the reality of the life that I've built up for myself here over the years. I think of my Canadian
friend Matt, who first came to Korea in 2001 to work as a 학원 English instructor, and has gone on to write one of the best
and most respected English-language blogs about Korean culture, society and history; he's never made a single 원 from his
blog "Gusts of Popular Feeling," which is in its fifth year now and still going strong, but he keeps at it because of his passion
for exploring Korean culture and sharing his findings with others. I think of my Australian friend Kevin, who first came to
Korea in 1996 and happily taught free yoga classes to both Koreans and non-Koreans here in 서울 for many years; he's stayed
in Korea for so long because he found the love of his life here, and together they've built a strong family with a sweet, beautiful
son of their own. I think of my American friend Cedar, who first arrived here in 1996 as well, and worked as an English
instructor in 대구 for 8 years; during that time she earned black belts in 합기도, 택견 and 공수도, and loves Korea so much
that she decided to get a Ph.D. at UCLA and become a life-long scholar of Korean 탈춤. I think of my American friend Zane,
who studied the Korean language for a year in California before coming over here in 1981 to serve in military intelligence for
the U.S. Army, so that he could help better defend South Korea during the height of the Cold War; since then, he's become a
well-known poet, artist and actor in Korea, and along the way also picked up an MA in TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers
of Other Languages), which does not strike me as terribly "unqualified," I must say. I think of my Canadian friend Jon, a tireless
champion of Korean punk music through photography and writing, and my American friend Kelly, who opened up the first-ever
salsa club in Korea way back in 1996, and my Australian friend Brendan, who taught free weekly English classes to young North
Korean defectors here for five years and loved every minute of it. When I think of these people, it makes me sad to know that
there's a particular meme circulating in the Korean media and in Korean society that essentially prejudges them all as "guilty
until proven innocent," and takes away all that they've given of themselves to Korea and Korean people. In fact, it bothers me
quite a lot.
Of course, the solution to the problem of "low-quality native English teachers" in Korea is so simple and obvious that one might
easily suspect a conspiracy is at work here, in which symptom is regularly confused with cause in order to distract society as a
whole, and thereby maintain the present status quo. For is it not the primary responsibility of Korean 학원 owners and school
managers to hire only qualified, properly trained native English teachers? If there are too many "low-quality" or "unqualified"
native English teachers here, it's because the gatekeepers -- meaning Koreans in almost every case -- are letting them in. And
why are they letting them in? Because they're often too cheap and unscrupulous to pay the kind of salaries that would attract
"professional" teachers from overseas; in other words, they're more concerned about money than actually offering their students
a proper, quality education. Naturally, some will argue that too much money is already being spent on English education in
Korea and that financial resources are limited, but in my view there's a perfectly simple solution to this problem as well: It is
an undeniable fact that a majority of South Koreans neither need nor even really want to learn English; once the authorities
here can admit to themselves this essential truth and make English an elective rather than required subject, then local demand
for native English teachers will fall off dramatically, and more funds will be made available for professionals from English-
speaking nations who seek to make a career of teaching ESL here. Problem solved, easy as "ABC"!
In other words, hopefully a time will come in the not too distant future when South Koreans can accept full responsibility for
the dysfunctional system of ESL education they've created for themselves, rather than continually scapegoating non-Koreans
for their own shortcomings and failures. In the meantime, I offer this book as a direct response to the local media's unhelpful
and, in my personal opinion, rather xenophobic meme of "low-quality foreigners in Korea." I offer this book as a celebration
of a group of unique individuals whom I consider myself lucky enough to call my friends. Indeed, I offer this book as a
challenge to South Korea's understanding of itself as a society: The types of people I have described above, and whose stories
fill the following pages, are a testament to South Korea's success as a modern society that is able to attract adventurous, positive-
minded individuals from around the world who are willing to invest their lives in Korea, and even make it their permanent home.
For this reason, I respectfully suggest that they be viewed not as a "necessary evil," but as an altogether "necessary good." They
help make Korea a better place to live in for everyone here.
And so, esteemed and gentle reader, after finishing this book, I'd like you to pause for a moment and ask yourself this question:
Why is it that the two most popular TV shows featuring "foreigners in Korea" up to now -- "미녀들의 수다" and "신비한TV
서프라이즈" -- star either young non-Korean women whose main attraction is as "sex objects," or mostly non-Korean men
acting like goofy "clowns"? Is this really the best that Korea can do? Is this the way that Korea "welcomes the world"? What
about a TV show that goes beyond merely laughing at non-Koreans as a kind of "exotic joke"? What about a TV show that
brings together Koreans and non-Koreans of all different ages, colors and genders, and has them talk about the meaning of life?
What about a TV show that promotes not just "beautiful bodies" from other countries, but rather "beautiful minds" and "lovely
human beings"?
* * * * *
Before proceeding any further, I believe a few thanks are well in order. As I have said, this book took me a while to complete,
and so I'd like to thank my editors 이진희 and 강소라 for being so patient, along with 최세희 and 최민우, our most excellent
translation team. And I'd especially to thank 주연선, the 대표 of 은행나무, for not giving up on me during my darkest hours.
I had originally planned to have this book done some time in the latter part of 2008, but then the 광우병 촛불시위 happened
literally right outside my doorstep in 종로, and I really couldn't avoid all the craziness that went down here during the summer
of 2008; by the time the whole thing was over, I was so disillusioned and disappointed with Korea that I had to stop writing
altogether for several months. But once I started feeling better, I decided to include an essay about the 광우병 촛불시위 in
these pages, since I think it fits with a central theme of this book, which is "globalization in Korea." In many ways, the 광우병
촛불시위 movement was a failed revolution, whereas the voices in this book offer a more positive, productive approach to
cultural transformation and even revolution in my humble opinion. I've also included an anatomy of one of my encounters with
a local paper during the 광우병 촛불시위, just to show how you shouldn't always believe what you read about non-Koreans in
the domestic press. Since this is the "appreciation section" of this essay, I'd very much like to thank the folks at 한겨레 for
allowing me the opportunity to show readers how not to be a "quality newspaper"!
While it may seem strange to do so, I'd also like to thank Korea itself for connecting me with all the very cool people who bring
this book alive, for if I had never come here, I almost certainly would have never met them in the first place. All of us share a
special bond because we are or have been "expats" in Korea; there's no exact equivalent for expat in the Korean language, which
I find rather curious, and it definitely doesn't mean "국외로 추방된 사람," as Naver's online dictionary would have you believe.
Quite the opposite, it simply refers to someone who has freely chosen to live beyond the borders of their native country, be it for
work or sheer adventure. Most of us actually prefer to think of ourselves as "expats" rather than "외국인," just because "외국인"
is one of those words that creates yet another unnecessary division between "us" and "them." I mean, is it really so wrong to
believe that the world would be a better place if we spent more time building bridges that bring us closer together, instead of
maintaining walls that keep us apart? To quote the great Morrissey more or less, "We're all just human, and we all just need
to be loved."
Finally, I'd like to thank all my friends for their contributions herein, and for always standing by me no matter what. This book
is by no means the creation of just one individual, but is very much a group effort, a collaboration between like-minded people.
Making books has been never easy for me, and this one was an especially long journey, but now that it's done, I'm feeling pretty
good about what I've accomplished, and feeling pretty good about myself once again. I realize now more than ever that there's
still a place in this world for books, because at least between the two covers of whatever kind of book I produce, I have the
space to break free of society's customary filters and roadblocks, and have the power to create something truly honest and
lasting; at the same time, making good books is a special kind of craft and mode of expression in concentrated, heightened
form, and requires a bit more skill and effort than simply signing up for a Blogger account, or chattering away on Internet
forums. Indeed, looking back over the past year or so, I realize I've hardly read an actual book, and of all the reading I've
done online, I can't say it's helped "expand my soul," or really blown my mind the way that great books by the likes of Melville,
Dostoyevsky, Conrad, Celine or Abe have. I realize that I need to get back to my roots, which for me means living life and
reading and writing many more books. For me, great books will always be like red pills that help me see the world anew all
over again, and without them, I might as well be blind. I might as well be dead.
And so, sorry, KT, but I don't think I'll be renewing my Megapass subscription. I need to simplify and streamline my life, and
get back to basics. I've already unplugged my TV, and recently quit smoking, because life is precious and not to be wasted. The
Internet is a wonderful invention, but I'm going to go back to using it as a means to an end, rather than an end in itself; I'm going
to use it as a tool that works for me, which mainly means helping me create more books, and staying in touch with family and
friends. If you happen to like this particular book right here, please send me an email at jsburgeson@hanmail.net and let me know
what you think, because it was made for you, of course, and I always want to know how I'm doing at what I'm trying to do.
And if I don't answer right away, don't worry too much -- I'm probably out climbing a really big mountain, and taking a nice
long piss!
-- J. Scott Burgeson
April 2009, 종로
* * * * *
Glossary:
1. 서문 = Introduction
2. "대한민국 사용후기" = "Korea Consumer Report"
3. "미녀들의 수다" = "Beauties' Chatter"
4. "추남들의 수다" = "Ugly Men's Chatter"
5. 이태원 = It'aewon
6. 미녀 = (a) beauty
7. 하리수 = Ha Ri-su (from "Hot Issue")
8. 왕백수 = Wang/King Baeksu
9. 왕리수 = Wang/King Ri-su
10. 미리수 = Mi Ri-ru
11. 애교 = cutesy-pieness
12. "미녀가 된 미국아담" = "A Beauty from an American Adam"
13. "노랑머리 3" = "Yellow Hair 3"
14. 이박사 = Yi Paksa
15. "신바람 템테이션" = "Exciting Temptation"
16. 원 = won
17. 아가씨 = unmarried young woman
18. 아줌마 = auntie or older married woman
19. 오빠 = Older Brother (spoken by females only)
1. 개똥녀 = "dog-poop girl"
2. 독도 = Dokdo or Dok Island
3. "독도는 우리땅!" = "Dokdo Is Our (Korean) Land!"
4. 청와대 = The Blue House
5. 김정일 = Kim Jong-il
6. 통일 = (re)unification
7. 제주도 = Cheju Island
8. 인터넷 폐인 = Internet shut-in
9. PC방 = Internet cafe
10. 북촌 = North Village
1. "발칙한 한국학" = "Nasty Korean Studies"
2. 홍익대학교 = Hongik University
3. 홍대앞 = The Hongdae area
4. 광주 = Kwangju
5. 법무부 = Ministry of Justice
6. 학원 = small private school or academy
7. 서울 = Seoul
8. 대구 = Daegu
9. 합기도, 택견 and 공수도 = Hapkido, T'aekkyon and Kongsudo
10. 탈춤 = masked dance
10. "신비한TV 서프라이즈" = "Mysterious TV Surprise"
1. 이진희 = Lee Jin-hee
2. 강소라 = Kang So-ra
3. 최세희 = Choi Se-hee
4. 최민우 = Choi Min-woo
5. 주연선 = Joo Yeon-sun
6. 대표 = Big Kahuna
7. 은행나무 = Ginko Tree
8. 광우병 촛불시위 = Mad-Cow Disease Candlelight Vigils/Protests
9. 종로 = Chongno
10. 한겨레 = Fucking Hankyoreh
11. "국외로 추방된 사람" = "a person expelled or banished to the outside/an outside country"
12. "외국인" = foreigner
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Introduction to "더 발칙한 한국학" 
[re] Cover image? 
