This image from Wikipedia
Wow I remember this dish! yam yam Samgyetang, yam yam my grandmamma Samgyetang tang!!..., what’s new Samgyetang? Stamina Samgyetang! Inside chicken tummy, there should be dried dates, ginsengs, chestnuts, gingers, sticky rice and garlic and many different types of herbs inside stuffed with thrilling yam yam tasty trickeries grow and melting into abreacted heat. Hot summer evening traditional Korean stamina dish. The ceramic pot is still boiling in the dining table, you are sit bit distant until it cooling down, and you are served a potion of stuffing and meat. The stuffing is very very tasty, you would never know what I am talking about hence you never tasted it! they are nothing like to have in a restaurant.
Remembering, number of headless chickens, lay their emptied guts, silenced hullabaloo stretched their feetless legs shamelessly regard on a basket. I went straight into the chickens’ cages whether some of my favorite chickens have been killed and end up at the basket while I was in school. Of course they did it. They always did the killing job when I was not there so I could not yelled at Un-Jo. Un-Jo been with us since he was a child, he was an orphaned distant relative, a was part of family, a kind of managing, oversee the field work e.g, I called him uncle, he was very handsome, quite and intelligent but he was a something of real killer. I watched his killing animals with awe, I was hidden a distant rock or top of trees, if you were caught by doing this you were punished(standing up a corner of room for an hour while grandmamma was reading her script…watching me!) so I was always careful. I didn’t know why but I knew when these killings happens; ordinary killings, or mess killing when a special occasion or visitors at home e.g.
Wonderment, his expert killing animals, his hands movement and his face; healthy glow and emotion. Think of it, he was enjoying in these killing! Very fast, a chicken e.g., if it was in a field, he snatched it like an acrobatic motion, hold its legs, walking toward like a graceful male dancer, the chicken was twitching its head down in his hand, toward its end; quirk quirk… he took it to the killing spot at the behind barn, put its head at a wooden chopping board and slating down with an axe to its head, eerie noisy quuukkeeii… the chicken head off its body and dropped under chopping board and blood splurged from its body to air and to the ground.
The killing was a pavilion of summer afternoon. The blood, bright vermillion to dark crimson colored soil, his dark amber handsome face, and his blooded huge hands and plastic apron are guarded with sunset in his stipulated shadow. And he took the lifeless thing to the back entrance of the house, there would be a huge black pot was waiting with boiling water. After no one around I went to inspect the site, sometimes I see the dead chicken heads too, motionless eyes half gazed and strewed at the dusky sky. I was once caught by him, he smiled at me but he didn’t say anything. I tried to mimic his skill in my killing frogs same way as he did but not the same. Frog and chicken are different things you know! I think I was little afraid of him acutely! But my brother loved him. They were very good friend, he made him kites and took him catching wild ducks but never took me! I don’t know why? He was very a decent man, but because his killing animals I was naturally distant I think. He killed everything; rabbits, chickens pigs and dogs (one stage I was deeply worried that they might eat my dog too, so I made very loud and clearly my dog can not be eaten, this supported by whole family! Pet dogs are friend of family they said. But I could not trust so I could ask him for his assurance, and he promised. I will write a dog story another day in here) and also ducks.
Now, go back to Samgyetang, I though that, wow it was too hot to eat such yam yam! But now I am thinking that it makes me really boost my lethal energy and to beat hell out of the all scumbags with aids this evil genius Dr Who’s ---Prof Krugman’s suggested--- the robotic troops. Fight with them; eyeballs to eyeballs, mind you these scumbags have no brains, morbidly depository of low self-esteem and stashed with inferior complex. So if anyone challenge them, they can not handle it, they think that is put them down, so just raged with their button size egos, buzzed buzzed… gosh they are the chickens, chopped their brainless gutless heads off and put them into summer heat for boiling to feed their end.
Unaggressive, I cursed them with “death of losers” twittering their little testicles egos, yes, their button size egos are the leeches of their feeble manhood. I know that “REAL” men are they know who they are rarely show their egos, which are well guarded underneath their aplomb. Cool as the Antarctica glacises. They love challenged by their peers, ease with other people’s challenge with amusement and compassion. After all they know who they are so they never bother such thing.
I will ask Alan for a gift! Give me a hot-cool stuff that I will bash up all the useless brainless and feeble unimaginative little pricks and send them to a lethal chopping board!!!
He would say don’t do “Young Sun”! Don’t bash everyone’s heads with your unguided missiles!
Do you think am I heading toward an evil megalomaniac? Or am I already a megalomania?
