Satire Brainstorming

Satire: literary genre

-       Ridicule: vices, follies, abuses, shortcomings

Why?

-       To shame

-       Then intend to be led to improvement

Devices

-       Use: wit

Ø  Mostly funny

-       Main purpose: social criticism

Topic: Diet

Diet. Diet. Diet. Nowadays, “diet” is a big concern for many people. There are motley ways suggested, and tons of what to dos and what not to dos. In this appearance-oriented world, people diet not only to satisfy themselves, but also to live more comfortably. It is true that those who are in good shape tend to get jobs better. This might sound silly but almost every female, at least once in their life time, tried diet. (Of course there are some people who never gain weight, but that’s only a “few.”)

As a result, literally “tons” of businesses targeting diet came out, including chicken breast, herbal life, detox, and variable fruit diets (banana, apple, etc.). Why should people give up eating all those palatable foods instead of going against the vogue?

Although I myself am stuck in today’s fashion of diet, I’d like to try some satire on diet, in a way like Miner’s “Body Rituals among the Nacerima”

I add some videos and pictures below.

Click this to watch Onion’s

Another one~ click

And a YouTube

Chain Writing

What Kind of Book Is This?

“Wake Up!”

My mother woke me up. She just cannot stand me sleeping over 10 even on weekends. Since she would keep yelling at me until I wake up, I gave up sleeping and went down. On the way down the stairs, smell of pancakes captivated me.

“I love you mom! How did you know I wanted pancake!” said I.

“Silly! Come on down and eat your pancakes. Oh, by the way, don’t you have to hurry up? Doesn’t the bookstore start at 8? You said you need to buy a book yesterday.” said my mother.

“Right! I was completely forgetting about it! Thanks mom! I think I have to run!” said I.

“What about the pancake?” said my mother.

“I’ll take care of them later!” said I.

As soon as I came out of the room, I started to run. I needed to go as fast as I could to “el Libros”, the secondhand bookstore in our town. Jack, the owner of the bookstore, had told me that new books will come out yesterday. No, it’s tomorrow now. Since the master in the bookstore always censored all the books before he sells any of them, he exhibited new books once in a month. And today it the day!

“Hello? Jack, are you there?” said I.

I looked around. Although the door of the store was opened, I couldn’t sense anyone’s presence. It was weird. Jack usually doesn’t leave his store emptied. So I started to look around the shop. There was a pile of books for sale and also, for disposal.

I used to not give any attention to those pile of books for disposal, because I believe Jack’s eye. However, it was different this time. There was one book that caught my sight. It was an old book. I walked slowly toward the book and grabbed it, and started reading.

In the future, the boy will be a “successful” playboy. He is the most talkative person ever known. Especially he loves to talk with girls.

“What are you doing?” said Jack.

“Oh, you were there! Nothing! I was just looking around.” said I.

“I see, you were checking the new books! Well, then throw away the one you grabbed. That’s a trash. The story is not even half finished.” said Jack.

“Is it? That’s pathetic. I thought it would be fun. You know, I have this innate ability to find the books that are entertaining, and this book touched my sensor.” said I.

“Stop that foolish joke. However, if you want that one, you can just have it. No one will buy that piece of junk anyways.” said Jack.

“Really? Thanks Jack! I really appreciate it!” said I.

“Just take it as a present for regulars.” said Jack.

I quickly returned to home after. Being too excited about getting the book, I couldn’t shop any more. I lied on my bed and started reading the book.

He talks a lot. Yes, he even talks much more than most girls at his age. His dream since he was young was to become the most “successful” playboy in the world. The call log of his phone was always full of girls or he hoped so. He never thought that he would become a man who only looks up to one person like people in television series. He thought that was the stupidest thing to do until one day, when met this girl. This girl he met was tall and talkative. She was very, very talkative, more than a person could imagine.

Suddenly, I recalled someone’s face. There was a boy named Nicolas Black who recently transferred to our school. Since he was not only handsome, but also good at sports, music, math and everything, he became popular among our high school within a week. Yeah.. Nick’s very talkative, and his call log must be filled with many girls, seeing that many girls were dying to get his phone number. Nevertheless, I didn’t really like him. He acted weird in front of me. Unlike usual, he froze and never really talked to me. Weird guy.

Oops! Oh my god. I was totally forgetting about my homework! Ha, thanks to him that he reminded me of chemistry homework that I have to do with him, though he didn’t intended. It would take years to finish it. Poor me.

Next day, a weird thing happened. As I stepped into the chemistry class, Nick said Hello to me. He never really talked to me before. I was a little hesitated, but I answered “Hello?” Then, so suddenly Nick started to talk. Yes, he talked for an hour long during chemistry class. How can a person be so noisy and irritating? I could not concentrate on the class at all! One odd thing was, however, that he asked my phone number. He’s probably making a collection with the names of girls. He even told me to call him Nick. Oh, that makes two odd things.

During the lunchtime, I took the book out of the back and read it. I thought the story was silly yesterday; but as I read it, now it scared me.

That’s when the boy realized, with great fancy in his mind, that he is going to fall for this girl. Encountering a figure that he had never dared to imagine was a turning point and a serious one too. So one day, he said “Hello?” to the girl. Then, answered a high-pitched voice “Hello?” The boy froze, for he had not expected the girl to answer him so brightly. But for the boy, there was no such thing as a ‘frozen moment.’ He began to talk soon enough, spitting out words like a stream without even knowing what he was saying.

Wow. Some of the story seemed to fit my situation now, although one thing, that the boy liked the girl, did not seemed to be true for me. Rather than love, he would hate me at best judging from the fact that he ignores me most of the time. Damn, the ring rang, I have to go now.

(After the school ended)

I was working on my art project. Suddenly, my cell phone rang.

“Hey, what’s up? It’s Nick. Are you busy right now?” said Nick.

“I was doing my art project, but yes, I do have some spare time. What’s up?”

“Nothing special, it’s just……………………”

“What? I can’t hear you. Hey! Nick! Is he off the phone?”

I just hung up and continued my drawing. Later in the night, I began reading the book again. Usually, if I start reading a book, I finish it or at least almost finish the book at once. However, there had been many interruptions on reading this one.

           Later in the day, he called the girl and talked about everything. But there was something very weird about the phone line of the girl’s house phone. It was making a weird beeping voice all along. Just then, the boy realized: the girl was teasing him.

           Would it sound lunatic if I say that I think the story seem to be so similar to what I have experienced today? Never mind, how on earth such thing could happen. It must be coincidence. Besides, the story was really attracting me now. I kept reading the book until the end.

The boy was frustrated and he thought about his love. ‘Although my love for her is really pure, she does not realize. No, she does not even see me as a friend!’ The boy was horrified. The boy wanted the girl to realize his love. Therefore, on White Day, the boy planned to give handful candy and flower to her with a poem. He heard advice from HJ, who has girlfriend, and HJ advised the boy to sing a song with guitar. The time has come, the boy called the girl to meet privately. But she answered “No.” The boy was frustrated. However, he was not the boy of weak determination. Since then, he called her four times a day for about two months. The girl finally accepted. The boy was so happy for meeting the girl. He bought a clothes, perfume, and flower for her. Then, finally, he went to the restaurant, and that was the start of the disaster.

           This was it. There was no story after this. Whoever the author is, I really want to kill this person right now. How can he finish the story at such a curious point? Although I’m dying to know the next story, there was nothing I could do. Maybe, the next story would appear if the story I had just read comes to happen.

Personal Essay 2nd Draft

Starry Night in Sierra Leone

A “moron”. That’s how a student described Vincent Van Gogh.

           Last winter vocation, I went to Sierra Leone, the poorest country on the Earth. Sierra Leone is located in West Africa, near the Ivory Coast (Côte d'Ivoire). Unlike African countries on the Ivory Coast, who are comparatively rich due to abundant natural resources and tourist attractions, Sierra Leone has nothing but the blood diamond. What motivated me to go to Sierra Leone first was not humanitarian affection; rather, it was curiosity. My travel experience was limited to North America, and I had never expected myself visiting Africa. Thus, for me, Africa was the land of adventure. Illusions of Safaris and infinite land horizons attracted me like an invitation to enter Wonderland. Still, numerous television shows and news articles about its despair, brutality, and famish alerted me. Yet, going to Africa, especially Sierra Leone, for volunteering was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that would not present itself again. Therefore, I decided to journey to a gigantic land filled with hope and misery, with 7 other people (6 KMLA students and one parent as a guardian).

           On the first day of arrival, after more than 24 hours of flying, I saw the television screen. I saw what those television shows were broadcasting: unpaved roads occupied by black people of all ages in worn clothes, selling basic needs amidst crude buildings made of mud and scraps of woods. Those were the first things that I saw. Soon after, I found out that the country had neither proper waterworks nor power plants. Growing up in a country with optic LAN cables installed everywhere, this country seemed to live a world 50 in the past.

           The next morning, we headed to the Korean Protestant Missionary (KPM) secondary school to do our volunteering. Before we came to Sierra Leone, the principal of the school had asked us to teach them art and music classes, because students of this school do not have those classes in their regular schedule. Thus, we had prepared an introduction to famous artists and musicians, a drawing class, a recorder lesson, and a lecture about Korea’s development from the 1960s until now.

           A funny thing about the classes was that in a class of grade 8, there are students from fifteen years of age to nearly twenty. This was due to the test students have to take every year to move up to the next grade. Students in this country are really busy. They have to help with housework and commerce. The schools even close after 1 p.m. because students have to go. As a result, they have no time to study, which causes them to fail the grade tests.

           We had originally planned to visit middle-school students only; however, because high school students had asked us to give a lesson to them too, we changed our plan and went to high school classes on the last day. Unlike secondary school students, their sight was sharp and the atmosphere was studious. I was to give the introduction to artist. It was in the first class that the “situation” happened.

I was introducing Vincent Van Gogh. I told them that Van Gogh killed himself after long despair of being an unknown artist. This was not a problem. However, as I told them that his younger brother had supported him economically, so that Van Gogh could continue his career, one of the students showed a little grievance.

           He said “I have brothers and sisters. I work hard and study hard to support and to be able to support them. I never thought my life is pathetic though. Nor had I ever considered committing suicide. That person, Mr. Van Gogh, he’s a moron. He was just too weak to endure his own agony.”

           At the moment, I was paralyzed. Vincent Van Gogh was my favorite artist, whom I had liked from very young age. Whenever I create art work, the first thing I consider is emulating his work. Trying to capture the essence of “The Starry Night” or “Cafe Terrace at Night”, I sympathized with his feelings. I understand his agony.

Nevertheless, after hearing the student’s words, my world abruptly stopped turning. What I had believed all suddenly seemed fake. I did not understand Van Gogh; rather, it was pretense full of arrogance. I was just a copy-cat imitating what other prominent people said, never voicing my own opinion.

          Then, there came the second thought: there is a hope in this country. Youngsters here are working hard. Before, I could only see poor people that we should help; but after the snobbish shell of prejudice peeled off, I saw equally hard-working people who are trying to develop their country, like our grandparents have done. At that moment, I took a glimpse of the students in the class. Their eyes were all shining like diamonds.

           After the day ended, I could not go to sleep easily. So I went outside, to watch the sky. The sky of Africa was full of stars; the number that I have never ever seen or will see in South Korea. Was Van Gogh a moron? I laughed to myself with a mix of bemusement and sadness. Who could clearly answer this question other than the student? But there was one thing that I could guarantee: In any case, the starry sky of Africa outshone those in his paintings. At last, my thoughts adjusted. Africa was not a land of desperation. Instead, it was the land of hope.