Get Me this Bird...

The folks in charge of this bird seem to be fed up with it. I wonder if they'd let it come live my apartment in Korea, where I say, "if you can't say anything nice, come sit next to me."

Foul-mouthed British parrot banished by embarrassed keepers

LONDON (AFP) - A foul-mouthed parrot previously owned by a lorry driver has been banished from public areas in a British animal sanctuary after repeatedly embarrassing his keepers, they said.

Barney, a five-year-old Macaw, is now kept indoors at Warwickshire Animal Sanctuary in Nuneaton, central England, when outsiders visit after abusing dignitaries with swearword-littered insults.

"He's told a lady mayoress to f..(expletive) off and he told a lady vicar: 'And you can f... off as well'," sanctuary worker Stacey Clark said.

Nor did the forces of law and order escape, she added.

"Two policemen came to have a look at the centre. He told them: 'And you can f... off you two wankers'."

Clark said sanctuary workers believed Barney either picked up the phrases from television or was taught them by his previous owner, a lorry driver who emigrated to Spain.

"He does say 'Hello, big boy' and 'Thank you' when you give him a biscuit," she added.

"But it's mainly naughty words and always to the wrong people. We're trying to teach him not to swear. Macaws are very intelligent birds."

From Yahoo! News

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"But..."

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Big In East Africa

*Note: Not having a pot to piss in, much less a window to throw it out of, Djibouti have withdrawn from the 2004 African Nations Cup qualifiers, effective 22 May, 2002 . Idiots' Collective is provided as a free service to them in their time of need. Well, actually we're three years late in our charity, but since when does a broke-ass soccer team get to dictate such matters?

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Post-Mortem Comments from John Paul II

It's been an eventful week - well, by my pitiful measure - here in this Land of Pushy Old Women. There's been dancing, hot wings, and interviews of more than one kind. The fun continues today with another job interview, for which I have to get all gussied up and wander out in the 30+ degree heat (86 degrees, for you Americanos), dripping and draining the meagre pounds off my body.

"It's been hotter'n a four alarm fire in a Georgia whorehouse," Pope JP II was heard to remark from his air conditioned tomb. "That's why I'm staying inside this box."

But First, the Attempt to Imbue Aaron with Some High Culture.

My girl took (read: dragged) me to a "cultural event" last weekend, a dance performance at a concert hall here in Seoul, the theme of which was "Who Put My Underwear Up there in the Rafters?" Actually, the printed program was entirely in Korean, so I had to provide my own translation, but I'm usually spot-on in these matters. Anyway, it was an hour-fifteen of all-out booty-shakin' and, at some point, the powers-that-be cut the AC and my attention moved quickly from the stage to staying cool.

Were the truth to be told, I'd admit that I didn't really mind the show. Those dancers are some athletic bastards and it's encouraging to see someone doing something other than putting on a short sleeve shirt with a tie and going to a salaryman job. But, the truth shan't be told, because this was a dance performance and such admissions could substantially detract from my already-worrisome levels of masculinity.

His Appreciation of Haute Couture Having Failed, Aaron Resorts
to Beer and Chicken Wings

On Sunday it was off to the Apgujeong district of Seoul to try out a chicken wings restaurant (called, and I'm not kidding, "Shwing") at the behest of my friend, Ed. Now, the sign on the window said the place opened at 1 p.m. I looked at my watch: 1:33 p.m. The place was closed, dark and didn't look even close to opening, so we had some lunch - spicy chicken, actually - around the corner and then checked back a couple hours later, again at the behest of Ed, who really wanted his damned chicken wings. And what do you know? They'd actually decided to open. We tried a few of their hot wings, including the Krazy Korean variety, advertised as being hotter than the aforementioned brothel calamity and let me assure you that such claims were no exaggeration. I ate one and immediately looked like - and for - a fire hydrant. That place must have discovered habanero peppers.

And Finally, Aaron's Day of Reckoning.

Later that evening, I had the distinctly stressful pleasure of meeting my girlfriend's parents for the first time. I'd always pegged Meet the Parents as something of a dramatic overstatement - "it's not that way in the US" - but now I see where the film might have a point. I'm referring, of course, to Korea, where a person doesn't generally meet his girlfriend's parents until he's halfway down the aisle, or at least halfway to the district office to pick up the marriage license. This has always seemed a late stage at which to frighten the boyfriend of one's daughter. If I were a father, I'd want to meet the young man and put The Fear into him at a very early stage, and tell him what my mother used to tell my sister and I:

"Be good, but if you can't be good, be careful. And, for god's sake, if you can't be careful, don't name it after me."

I daresay the wedding day is too late for such advice, but I've been with my girl for about a year and a half and had never, until Sunday, been subject to the hurt-my-daughter-and-I'll-castrate-you routine. Rest assured, when/if I'm a father, I'll be scaring away potential suitors within minutes.

Fortunately, I think I've gained entry to the circle of trust, as it were, and I don't think her father is a florist or in the CIA (though, by their very nature, spooks are often hard to detect). Actually, the parents - future in-laws? - were unfailingly kind to me and apparently revealed no animosity toward me in the days following our first meeting. Whew. Now I just to learn this Korean language so I can actually talk to them. And piss them off in their own native tongue.

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Frog-Blowing

I'm sure that, in some way, this is all in good fun, but have people become so desperate for entertainment that they'll spend their time blowing air up a frog's ass? The above picture is from Yamhill County, Oregon, from where I recently returned, though I'm happy to say I didn't have any intimate contact with amphibians. The girl in the picture is a 13 year-old from the town of Yamhill, trying to coax her frog to jump, which it apparently didn't do and was thus disqualified.

Frankly, I'm surprised they could find a teenage girl willing to do this in Yamhill County. Judging by the pages of the storied News-Register, I figured most girls from those parts were either pregnant, meth addicted or both. I have to wonder if frog-blowing isn't somehow a gateway to such dangers.


As a footnote, I should probably back off my criticisms of blowing into frogs' rearends. It's something in which I can easily see myself becoming involved.

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Airplane Nastiness

Having been in - and occasionally out of - Korea for three and a half years now, I find it somewhat surprising that only last Saturday did I finally enter The Land of the Sidewalk Oyster on a tourist visa. I've always had the visa thing properly configured prior to coming into the country and never had to slide in on a thirty day permit. Nor, for that matter, have I ever had to do the famed Osaka (or Fukuoka, as the case may be) visa run, which seems to be a rite of passage for westerners in Korea. Now that I'm here on a tourist visa, though, I suppose I'll be earning my Korean stripes with a quick trip to Japan next month.

Whenever I enter Korea, I always dread my dealings with the immigration officials at Incheon Airport. They're slow, rude, and a pox upon my otherwise pleasant life. As above, I've always entered Korea with an extended-stay visa, entitling me to at least one year's residence in the country, but - perhaps not surprisingly - I was always scrutinized with far more suspicion with those visas than when I entered on a tourist visa last weekend. Upon arriving at the immigration desk, the man asked why I was there. Travel, I said. You've got thirty days, he said. Welcome to Korea. Enjoy. Now, why can't it always be that easy, that pleasant?

I'm here on a tourist visa because I won't officially start my job until week, and until I do the company won't sponsor my visa. So I'm left to rattle-ass around Seoul for the next ten days, trying to be conservative with the finances because, with no income, the money only flows one way: out.

As fate's way of helping me on that front, however, I came down with one of those awful summer colds within two days of arriving here, probably acquired on the plane ride over here (or from the girlfriend, but I prefer to think that she wouldn't pass such filth my way). If nothing else, I don't feel like going out and doing things that would serve only to drain my bank account. So, I've been abusing the downloads and watching the first season of Arrested Development, which I highly recommend for those of you with a bit of time on your hands. Watching TV shows like this is, without a doubt, the way to go because there's no commercials and no waiting one week for the next episode ("I want it yesterday!").

With any luck - and once this wretched bug runs its course - I'll be able to get up in the hills and do some proper walking. That'll be a cheap way to pass the time and pave the road for a good night's sleep. Cheaper than Nyquil from Namdaemun Market anyway.

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Oregon: Day Five

Here's Oregon for you: Socks, sandals and umbrella at the beach.

Take note of this one because it's a first. I'm fairly certain that this was the first time I ever held a baby. That, incidentally, is my niece and she looks like she's about to vomit on me, which is why I'm about to hand her back to her mother.

It hasn't been completely fashion police or babysitting, though - I've even gotten a bit of kayaking in on the Yamhill River (about as easy a trip as you could get), which crosses the family farm, as it were. We actually came across a mole this evening that had fallen into the river and was on the verge of drowning (suicide, no doubt) and I tried to fish it out with my paddle but only managed to succeed in furthering its cause. Finally got the hapless bastard back on the bank and went on my way, though I wonder how evolution saw fit to smile on a blind animal that can't swim and can't run.

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