Well, the inevitable finally occurred. What was the biggest concern of several people ended up happening yesterday. Han Mu decided that he needed to exercise his filial rights and requested money. Not just a couple of bucks money. He wanted $500 USD yesterday and then, get this, he wants very soon $100,000 USD. When I asked him why he needed $100,000, he said that it was to buy a taxi. When the interpreter was explaining it, she ad-libbed her own opinion at the very end, which was "Don't give him any money." I think we know who's side she is on, and it's not looking good for Han Mu! I said "Hmmm...that's quite a bit of money. How about I just pay for lunch? And maybe I'll throw in a six pack of yogurt and three USA themed lighters?" Ok, maybe I didn't say that, but I did start laughing which should have tipped Han Mu off that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I am going to give him 100K.
The fact that he requested the money at the very end of the 4-hour session after revealing some things that we'll discuss in later posts pretty much sunk his chances of getting any financial assistance. I don't think he thought that admitting to attempted murder was that big of a deal, but to the rest of the world, it's kinda a huge issue. Like a deal breaker issue. Four hours of Han Mu resulted in the interpreters privately meeting me after the session to urge me never to reply to his messages ever again. The female social worker was genuinely fearful of him and would not give him her contact information. It seems Han Mu is legendary for harassing the shit out of people until he gets his way. Han Mu also apparently told them that if he didn't get translators for today that he would burn their building down. So arson and murder are things that Han Mu has in his playbook for acceptable activities. At this point I'm asking the translators if they think we look alike, because I'm really hoping that I get my personality and ethics from my biological mother, the gullible prostitute that can't sell pants for shit. What a fantastic gene pool I come from, eh?
All day I have been thinking about the possibility that I'll end up like this jizzbiscuit. It scares the ever living hell out of me. I mean it. The Sane One says that there is no way that is going to happen, but I also said there is no way that I would ever be in Korea, and look at Mr. Two Times in One Year sitting here in Seoul. My bloodline is one that potentially should never be extended. The fact that I don't have children is now an absolute relief, because there should be no trace of Han Mu on this planet ever again. I would give him 100K if he dove face first into a wood chipper. I'm hoping that there is a strong chance that he won't think that one through because what other part of his life has he fully thought through?
I think we should get creative and maybe I'll do a GoFundMe for Han Mu if we can get him to agree to do some interesting things. Being skinned alive might be worth the money. Running through the minefields at the DMZ might be good for some solid television watching. I'd rather use the money to re-elect Trump than to see any of it go to Han Mu. And you all know how I feel about that bloated sack of spray-tanned shit. I did however agree to a monthly conference call with him and an interpreter, because I desperately need material for this blog and I figure that each 1-hour call should be good for at least 7 blog posts. The things I do for you readers! Just don't tell Han Mu, I don't want him plotting to destroy the internets and wreak havoc on cyberspace.