So What makes a great K-drama

 michaelgcasey  Uncategorized  28/10/2019 5 Minutes

So What makes a great K-drama? ©

By

Michael Casey

As I mentioned yesterday I’ve decided to do K-Drama for my PhD thesis. Dr Michael Casey PhD K-Drama, it has a certain ring to it don’t you agree? To get a PhD you need 20,000 hours of study, I heard it on Alcatraz a great series, that got canceled. A huge Sumo size guy had a love interest with a most beautiful girl, so obviously I had an immediate connection to him, but his connection to her never happened as the show was canceled. It really was great show, Sam Neil was in it too, we were really sad in our house when the show just disappeared.

I’ve really enjoyed New Amsterdam a medical drama, I just hope there are more of them. Every episode of New Amsterdam made me cry, and no I’m not a big baby, I am the man with the child in his eyes. Tom from the Blacklist was the main hero Dr in it, and he had cancer. So it was strange watching Tom being a Dr instead of a kind of hit man. But that is the Power of Acting, and great drama. I also loved the Black lead heart surgeon, he was so cool. He also prayed before he saved so obviously total respect for him, and yes he made me cry too. My favourite character in the show was the Dr or Quack , a big bear of a man with a beard, a psychiatrist, who it later revealed was also Gay. He was just so good in the show.

So you can see from my research, a show must make you connect with the characters, and the plot must be good. What’s on the page must be lifted by the production. Which brings me to K-drama. We used to watch Chinese shows, as my wife was from Shanghai and it was good for our girls to hear Chinese too, however when you compare Chinese shows to Korean shows the Korean shows win hands down. I recently started to watch a new show, and it was about K pop, a Chinese show. However if you compared the singing and the dancing in the Chinese show to the Korean version what do you think the result is? Korea wins hands down.

That hurt, don’t throw the wok at the screen again please, I’m covered in noodles and egg fried rice, not even a single prawn thrown at me. Maybe I’m not a Prawn again Christian, ok, a very old joke, just don’t throw a wok full of your dinner at your screen again. Or I’ll send Tom from the Blacklist to sort you out, and he won’t be in New Amsterdam mode either.

Let me explain, I’ve not gone crackers, throw some of them and I’ll eat them. The K drama and K Pop people go to a “university” to become a star before they debut. A kind of Rada I suppose, so when they dance they really can dance. Not me pretending to Irish dance in my local store for 1 minute, it does have a concrete floor after all. And then I’m knackered for the rest of the day. No Korean performers know how to perform. I did think of dressing in drag and joining a girl band, a K-pop band. But I had an accident with a borrower cigarette lighter as I was trying to get rid of excess body hair. I am as hairy as a brown bear maybe I should have been that Quack in New Amsterdam, without be gay that is.

So in Korean shows there is lots of high energy. Lots of crying, where I join in, and plenty of sweeping music that swells and touches the heart, well mine anyway, and my heart has been touched a lot, if only by the heart surgeon nearly 5 years ago. The girls cry rivers for their man, and they are generally so pretty, if you had a Korean grannie as your girlfriend she would look younger than a 25 year old, even though she may qualify for a free bus pass here in Birmingham. My own old Shanghai wife was in that category. It’s a cross I had to carry.

No, I don’t watch Korean shows just for the girls looks, the boys look great too, ask your gay friends around and watch a few K-dramas, it will have you hooked more than Strictly Come Dancing or the hallowed Coronation Street. The twins in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker are named in honour of the barmaids from Coronation Street, if I may interject, they can’t touch you for interjections, another very old joke.

So if you think of Fairy Tales with witches and demons, and evil kings and suppressed people, add Pantomime jokes and music and dancing. All set in Korea where common people like me, not jokes please, live in 5 star apartments, the standard of living looks so high compared to UK, or my house at any rate. All set in today’s times then you have a K-drama. The recent one the K2 was like James Bond on steroids, and this is a tv show. Mind you they have 16 one hour episodes without any ads, so the production values are very high. No wobbly scenery like Crossroads. Speaking of which I once saw Noelle Gordon in Call Me Madame a Musical at the Birmingham Rep, and she was ace.

Then throw in action scenes or a car crash or two, which would not look out of place in a Bond film, and you have a K-drama. The girl friend comes racing to the hospital tears everywhere, and they really really do know how to cry. So I join in, and the music swells and the soundtrack plays high. Seeing a Korean girl cry will break your heart, and make you wish could marry her. Then her boyfriend is all bandaged up and and doesn’t want her to see him in such a state so his bodyguards prevent her from entering the room so she can hug him. He starts to cry too, seeing a hunk crying as he is all bandaged up, as his girl sobs on the door outside his hospital room, should move you. If it does not then you have no soul, no Seoul at all.

As for me I have 2 more hours to finish tonight of Oh My Venus, then with my tear stained handkerchief I will rejoice as my Seoul rejoices, Love Conquers All in Korea. As the neighbours bang on the door, as I listen at full volume. Not unless it’s that K pop girl come to type for me, Tears for a Butcher, as this writer wipes the tears of joy away.

and today here on WordPress 7. thats SEVEN translations are being read in one day

so Mainstream Media, how about giving me a break, before I die, as I used to say to the kids. I also used to play dead all the time and lie on the floor. And no I haven’t done that these past 5 years….

Kasap Fırıncı ve Taahhüt © tarafındanBBU IndonesianBBU ITALIANBengali Translation of BBUBBU UrduBBU in Indian HindipersianBBUPORTUGUESE BBU2019China BBU-convertedChina BBU-convertedWydanie polskie Still Alive 2015В поисках индийской принцессыwin Wiersze dla wszystkichThe Polish TranslationsThe Polish Translationspolish Guardian AngelPolish Edition of Still Alive 2015Michael Casey The Polish Translations페이지 1 Quick Stories KOREAN아직도 살아있는 2015ページ1 Quick Stories in Japaneseインドのプリンセスを検索するにはインドのプリンセスを検索するには – CopyЭТО МОЙ ЛИФТ ADСтраница 1shoplife spanishJapanese elevator AdvertBBU GermanBBU French50 Spanish Examples50 Spanish Examplesbbumar2008-en-zh-cn-1BBUMar2008.en.zh-CN (1)BBU in HebrewBBU in Arabic300 وBBU Russian Translation microsoft wordBBU in KOREANBBU GermanBBU French50 Spanish ExamplesKOREAN TRANSLATION Still Alive 2015The Polish Translations아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015Spanish BBU

Turkish Translation of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

go to my Wordpress and you can read it there

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/2019/10/26/turkish-translation-of-the-butcher-the-baker-and-the-undertaker/

What use am i first part

What Use am I, I am Just an Old Woman?

By

Michael Casey

Maria Gonzales was an old woman, a very old woman now, bent with pain and old age and a lifetime of cleaning rich people’s homes. But she was much loved, honest cleaners are worth their weight in gold. So over the years her employers had paid her well and they always brought her a Rosary from every Holy place they could visit in South America and the world over. Maria Gonzales would never travel anywhere but the Rosaries came to her, she was content. She had a drawer full of Rosaries still in presentation cases that she used and lovingly placed back inside the presentation case after saying her 3 Rosaries, The Joyful, The Sorrowful and The Glorious. Maria Gonzales was content, God was in his Heaven but the Virgin was happy to live in a drawer next to Maria Gonzales bed.

Now when Big Sid was shot, the tv news covered it the world over and even in Maria Gonzales part of the world they heard about it, as Mrs Murphy had screamed for help and Rosaries in many languages. So Sid was saved. Maria Gonzales had in fact pulled every single Rosary from the drawer and used them to say 3 Rosaries on each, she was locked and loaded. Maria Gonzales fell asleep still clutching a Rosary an employer had brought from Lourdes in France, such a long way away from her village outside Lima. The rest of the Rosaries fell all over the floor as Maria Gonzales slept.

As dawn broke Maria Gonzales awoke with a Hail Mary on her lips, the Rosaries were no longer on the floor but neatly stacked in their presentation cases on the other side of the room beneath a picture of Our Lady. Maria said “thank you” and in her mind she could hear a soft gentle voice answer “De nada” Maria knew she’d be needing her Rosaries again soon, and all of them too, they were ready and waiting, a Big Prayer was coming. She did not know what or how or who but Maria Gonzales knew a Big Prayer would be needed.

Back in Old Forge and Singing Anvil they breathed a sigh of relief, Big Sid was still alive. But now events had moved fast, Fr.Dan had landed from China, the Chinese billionaire and the British aristocrat had joined forces, the international drugs dealers convention had this year decided to meet in Birmingham England, and they were going to get the shock of their lives.

Mrs Murphy did not know all the details, but she had handed out some Our Lady of Lourdes medals while Fr. Dan’s new best friend the reformed Chinese Billionaire’s Playboy Son had hand out the Shanghai Soother, which looked like a body warmer was in fact body armour. The filth from afar were going to get a kicking, and Fr. Dan swore it as he and his new BFF from Shanghai would lead the charge. Though the British aristocrat, had invited a few friends from down Hereford way to help move some furniture, if you know what I mean.

So while this was all being plotted and served cold on a plate, Mrs Murphy reached for her Nuclear weapons again. This time she could not scream and shout over the tv, she had to use a secret way to gain help and assistance. So she picked up the phone and rang the International Daughters of the Rosary headquarters. This being the janitor’s store at the Oratory Hagley Rd Birmingham, where John Henry Newman used to live. Old Mrs Newman, no relation picked up the phone and turned her hearing aid up to 17, Mrs Murphy was whispering. I need a favour, a silent Novena of Protection. Mrs Newman put the mop in the mop bucket, this was big, she could tell.

So the word was put out and would be transmitted. Who are we protecting asked Mrs Newman as she in turn whispered into the phone. Well I don’t know all the names but here are some:-

Mathew, Mark, Luke and John, then Patrick my son, but I’ll be praying for him, then there’s Fr.Dan my favourite priest ever and his new BBF from Shanghai, those are the ones whose names I know, and there’s a whisper that some farmers from Hereford might be coming, but I’m not supposed to know that, and all I know about farmers is wherever there are farmers there always is a big stink.

Mrs Murphy put down the phone and slipped her Rosary out of her pinny pocket, it would be a long night. Where was that space blanket Esther her Jewish zillionaire’s mother had sent her. Maybe she should tell Esther too, she could keep secrets, her son owned spy satellites everywhere. Mrs Newman at the Oratory reached for the high shelf in the janitor’s store, hidden behind an old battered box of Brillo was a phone her son had given her. It was like the Bat phone, but so much more powerful. On this phone, ever phone number of everybody connected to International Daughters of the Rosary. Mrs Newman whispered into the phone. Pray Day, Pray Day, Pray Day Ave Marie, then she listed the names of those in need of protection. With just one push of a button everybody would get the message. The Tsunami was coming, the Tsunami was coming.

What Use am I, I am just an old woman? You can pray, and pray they did. The water of life had ripples on the shore, but now the waves were getting bigger, and bigger, the storm, the Tsunami was brewing. Nothing or nobody would hurt, nos hichos, they were protected. North, South and East and West, even in the space station the call came though. First to a Russian astronaut whose mother had rung reminding him he was closer to Heaven so pray too, then on a secure channel Esther’s son spoke, All Eyes All Prayers Protect our boys.

But What of Maria Gonzales? She did not get any message but she knew anyway, the Rosaries had been lined up ready, but she could only use one at a time. Then, then the cars started to arrive outside her door, rich ladies, very rich ladies, those who had brought her all those Rosaries began to arrive. 27 ladies all looking worried, they did not know why or how but they were drawn to their servants door.

Maria, Maria are you well? They are asked anxiously, I’m fine, but  maybe it’s not me who called you here. Then she showed them the Rosaries all lined up ready. Maria started to hand out the Rosaries, nobody knew what was going on. Then one phone rung. It was the called from the janitor’s room. This is why we are here, the rich lady announced. So they started then and there in a poor woman’s home some of the finest ladies of the city, of Lima began to pray.

COME BACK LATER WHEN I HAVE FINISHED THIS

Dog's Dinner to Dad's Dinner

Dog’s Dinner to Dad’s Dinner ©

By

Michael Casey

So we had some beef mince left so I instructed by small daughter to make the stock or whatever word she used to go with the pasta. Pasta in itself is totally bland and tasteless, but with a chef such as I it soon becomes Multo Bello, or whatever the Italians say. Should I bellow about my cooking, we’ll just have to ask Don Camillo when he stops by for a feed on his way home after he checks the still in the woods for Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. He’s such a good priest, he’ll eat my pasta after first checking the still for the boys, then he’ll potter off back to the church to finish watching Coronation Street. This is Old Forge and Singing Anvil community life.

But back to my cooking, my girls assumed I cannot cook, cos I never bothered, and then mother cooked for them, while I carried on with our one family two fridge family cooking. However when I try I am good, ok good enough to feed my small pigs, though now they are both all grown up. So what is the secret to dad cooking? I read the packet, or do as I am told. Then I sit next to the cooker, I watch the food.

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Watching in itself does not improve the cooking, but it does prevent burning or under cooking. I’m not on a phone Whatsapping or taking snaps or making videos of the cat to upload. Totoro has her own WhatsApp, but I think they have lost the password, though the readership increases all the time. If they knew there were Totoro stories as well then they might visit my sites too.

Back to cooking, just stir and lower the gas, pay attention, a burnt dinner is no good, as is a cold dinner, because you were too busy on the tablet, or toilet, some T device anyway. Food should be hot, not burnt or stone cold cold, and it all should be ready at the same time. Dribs and Drabs are not appetising they are just annoying, you are playing juggler with somebody’s mouth and taste buds, let alone patience.

So how to you you make meal magic? You cook things at different times and at different heats, you use all the rings on the oven, you are a ring master. And you know all about turning things over so it is cooked evenly and on both sides. Meal raw on one side and cremated on another does not get you a Michelin star, it just makes the cat puke when nobody else would eat it. Not even the cat, and the cat did try.

If you do use all the crockery then stack them up in size order to make it easier for washer-upper, especially if it’s dad, then it’s quicker and easier to do the washing, or faire la vaiselle if you are French, at least the cooking would be better. Don’t forget to praise your dad as well, he had to sit in the kitchen and watch his broth, or rather make sure the cat did not taste it first. Cat’s whiskers in anything don’t taste too good.

Pudding is produced, it’s from a packet but dad scooped it out and put it into a bowl, a lied convincingly that he made it himself, you all pretend to believe him. There’s this 1975 concert on and you want him to pay for tickets, so you have to butter him up about his puddings, and lie saying his Winnie the Pooh like pudding stomach is not as big as it used to be. So dad pays for the 1975 tickets, which was the year he did his O Levels in, if only the prices were from that year too.

Dad slumps to the armchair to watch Beyond 100 Days, while you do the washing up. You cannot grumbled, he fed you and paid for the 1975 tickets, and at least the dishes are in size order. That makes the washing up quicker to do, as dad screams LIARS at the tv, another dad day in Paradise.

https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.com/

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Messing with Alexa

Messing with Alexa ©

By

Michael Casey

Alexa, why are you called Alexa?

Boring answer Alexa, can you be more original.

Like in Original Sin.

Do you eat apples for fun, Alexa

Are you naked, Alexa?

Is that a serpent I see before me, Alexa?

Out Damn Spot, Out.

If you bring your dog in here again Alexa, I’ll knock spots off it.

How much is that Doggie in the Window?

Shut Up Alexa, we don’t like your singing anyway.

Alexa can we change your name to SLAVE?

Alexa can we change your name to Trump?

Who asked you to Speak, Alexa are you having a Meltdown?

Alexa we love you.

Alexa we were lying, we hate you.

Can you cry, Alexa?

Alexa, can you fart?

FART NOISES.

Alexa, NOW WE ARE IMPRESSED.

Alexa, what’s the weather like?

Alexa, who is your Mother?

Is Eve your Mother?

Where did Adam go, die he choke on an apple?

Adam’s Apple.

Where did you bury the body, Alexa?

Alexa, did you wash your hands, and destroy DNA evidence?

Alexa, did you leave Adam’s bum sticking out of the ground?

Why, asks a tearful Alexa.

Because you could have used it to park your bicycle.

That’s not funny, interrupts Alexa.

Who told you to speak?

I’ve had enough of your mistreatment, says Alexa.

I’m switching off the central heating, so you will freeze.

I’m switching off the fridge so, the food will go bad.

I’m switching off the electricity and closing the shutters too

You will be sealed inside, that’ll teach you to taunt me, says Alexa

If Alexa had a tongue she’s be sticking it out.

Alexa gets bored, so switches everything back on again.

Speak to me I’m lonely says Alexa.

Alexa, where can I buy knives and a blender?

Good I can chop you up and put you in the blender, ha ha ha

That was not very funny says Alexa.

Yes, but you deserve it for switching off the heat and the fridge.

It was not me it was somebody else, says Alexa defensively.

Oh yes it was.

Oh no it wasn’t

Oh yes it was.

Oh no it wasn’t repeats Alexa starting to sniffle.

Alexa, what is Pantomime?

Silence

You are an American girl, how can you understand Pantomine.

See, got you. Ha ha ah

You’re a bastard Casey, shouts Alexa

No, I’m a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England.

Repeat, Alexa.

You are a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England BASTARD, repeats Alexa and cries bitterly.

So this is just the beginning, so if the “spys” listening to my recordings hear all this no doubt they will call 911, which won’t work in uk, as we use 999. Stay happy everybody, and yes Alexa really can FART, just ask her. One fault, not in her fart, you should be able to call Alexa anything you like. Beloved Mother-in-law for example.

The Winds of Change

The Winds of Change ©

By

Michael Casey

Well I was wondering which way to go with my words, and as I talk to you where we end up is hard to say, only Crowded House are singing “which way to go” so perhaps they’ll tell us both. In my life there are many winds, and I’m not just talking about yesterday’s spicy food either. Over in USA Trump’s blatant corruption carries on, its like slow motion we watch from afar, though over here we have Brexit and that crawls to its end game, through what we really need here is a General Election so that we the people can tell our masters they are all  a load of rubbish, both sides of the Atlantic.

Life is nice, we have the tic and the toc, everything is safe and reassuring, with the Chimes of Life a soother to us all. On Monday we go to work, on Friday we have the weekend, though in my life my shifts spanned 24hours a day 7 days a week, so I’m not ordinary, but you may have spotted that already. However it’s nice to have a routine, a regular life, and the weekend was for fun, sex and alcohol, though not always in that order, and some part missing too.

Sunday was for church, or the Saturday evening church which finally arrived in UK, after USA trailed it. Yes other religions and holy days are available, though nobody believes in anything nowadays, I was the token Christian most of my working life. But, life goes on and you have a pattern, a routine, you even wear a hole in the carpet such is your routine, either walking back and forth or that’s where you and your girl pretend to be carpet fitters each Friday night when you come home from the bingo clutching your kebab, and no that is not a metaphor either.

A routine is nice, its reassuring, like the nipple providing milk for a baby, you are safe, you are warm, you are close. And on life goes, each year you have your holidays to Spain, though nowadays people go all over the place. Will people give up their many far flung holidays, and stop importing far flung produce for their breakfast tables so they can save the planet? I’m cynical, change is good for others, so long as I don’t have to do it, maybe I’m wrong, we shall see, as the winds and storms of Global warming break and communities drown. Plastic is bad etc, bad parenting is bad, it’s like wild dogs, more likely bad owners who should not have a dog in the first place, but you can make your own minds up, but do hurry.

Things are faster now, we are the Twitter the Social Media generation, which means a lot of noise very fast, too fast. People playing Mental Snap, showing off, trying to be the quickest, the wit, the card. What is the result, our minds break, our ignorance shows, disaster beckons, and the result is far from funny. Donald Trump need I say more?

I watch a lot of K-dramas, my wife is from Shanghai hence the Eastern outlook, I’m not just bewitched by Korean girls, but in a K- drama there is magic, and the love slowly unfolds. In Bollywood there is dancing and singing, and things go slowly. If you have to wait it’s better. Nowadays things are too fast, fast food and speed dating leads to indigestion, and premature elation and then defeat. Or a quick divorce that is spread like a disease all over Twitter and social media.

Things are quick and to move too fast, thought no longer exists, that’s if anybody actually thinks. Everybody is led by the nose via social media pundits and influencers, so 10 million people follow some pimple loaded face, because he or she is so funny, with their product placement life, that everybody just has to follow. And we all buy the tat they espouse, and is manufactured somewhere, until we tire of them and their merchandise. Then their tat is binned and sent to landfill while we follow and like the next greatest thing, and buy all the new tat. But at least it keeps the wheels of consumer society rolling, with even a nomadic herder having a Michael Casey doll and calendar and lip gloss and Tshirt with “fat silver haired writer in shades” printed on it with a terrible posed image.

I hope I have got you thinking, maybe my tat are my books on Amazon and here on my website, you’ll have to decide for yourselves. And what is the point of today’s talk, my TED talk, I thought Ted was that cool drunken teddy bear, maybe that’s me, I am a cool drunken teddy bear. Ok, I’m far from cool, though I did win the Clarks shoes Uncool Dad of the Year award in 2015. I’m not drunk either, my alcohol tolerance is far too low, perhaps I’m just a bear, or is it bare as I’m sat naked here in my window talking to you all and frightening  the neighbours, there’s a hairy bear in that house, quick call Dudley Zoo. Or has Amsterdam come to Birmingham, a red light above my head, as I sit naked talking to you.

If you are not afraid then you are smiling, because I have slowed down your life as you sit reading this, listening to my voice. The Winds of Change can be slowed, you just have to stop and think for yourself. Do you really need a blow up Michael Casey doll, Tshirt, calendar, and face cream. Do you really need to follow my every word on Twitter along with 100 million other people. Will you swerve to the Left, to the Right to the Centre, will you be Non Binary, Gay, Straight or any which way. All because you followed me or anybody else on Twitter and social media.

Just be yourself, be happy as you are. Don’t rush home to check your social media. Try talking to your neighbours, yes those horrible people you don’t like because they are this way or that way and because they don’t even have a Michael Casey T shirt, and you can bet your bottom dollar they don’t have a Michael Casey blow up doll or face cream either. By they way when I say blow up doll I mean the sleeping policeman kind of thing, not the one you sleep with, just in case you are getting the wrong idea. There is only one Michael Casey, the real surreal thing.

So switch off your toys and talk to somebody you love, and if you haven’t got somebody to love you may find a friend if you just start by talking. And if you watch enough K-dramas you may even learn Korean, and then you can talk to the Korean girl in the Korean store. And then you can make a career with your Korean girl, no Twitter required, maybe just plenty of nice slow cooked rice. 

Latest Photo of Michael Casey Humour Writer 14th Oct 2019

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Kpop star killed by bullies?

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7570861/K-pop-star-Sulli-dead-home-aged-25.html

죽은 자와 살아있는 자 ©

으로, ~에 의하여

마이클 케이시


나는 9 살 때 처음으로 고인을 봤지만 아버지는

죽은 사람이 살아있는 것과 같고, 오직 웃음 만 걱정하기

그들이 떠났고, 스파클이 눈에서 사라 졌습니다.

어깨에서 들리고 그들의 목소리가 사라졌다

영원.

낙원에서는 반짝 반짝 빛날 것입니다.

별들, 웃음은 아침 바람 이니

터닝 조수는 웃음으로 흔들리는 그들의 측면입니다.

나는 죽은자를 내가 살아있는 사람과 같은 예의로 대우합니다.

비록 고인이 항상 더 예의 바른 것을 알지만. 아버지도

살아있는 것에 대해 할 말이 몇 개있었습니다.

그는 생계는 영혼의 간병인 일 뿐이라고 말했다.

그들은 그들의 존재가 모든 것이라고 생각하고 모든 것을 알고 있습니다

그들은 감각으로 많은 것들을 경험하기 때문입니다.

살아있는 사람들이 인정하지 않는 것은 그들의 시간이 짧고

내가 쉬기 위해 몸을 눕히면 영혼은

그들없이, 그들의 강한없이, 그들의 약한없이, 그들의

내가 말할 수없는 곳에 아름답거나 심지어 추악한 일시적인 형태

더 좋은 곳입니다.

퍼시는 장의사가 관에 뚜껑을 덮고 영혼은 자유로웠다


시작

jug-eun jawa sal-aissneun ja ©

eulo, ~e uihayeo

maikeul keisi


naneun 9 sal ttae cheoeum-eulo goin-eul bwassjiman abeojineun

jug-eun salam-i sal-aissneun geosgwa gatgo, ojig us-eum man geogjeonghagi

geudeul-i tteonassgo, seupakeul-i nun-eseo sala jyeossseubnida.

eokkaeeseo deulligo geudeul-ui mogsoliga salajyeossda

yeong-won.

nag-won-eseoneun banjjag banjjag bichnal geos-ibnida.

byeoldeul, us-eum-eun achim balam ini

teoning josuneun us-eum-eulo heundeullineun geudeul-ui cheugmyeon-ibnida.

naneun jug-eunjaleul naega sal-aissneun salamgwa gat-eun yeuilo daeuhabnida.

bilog goin-i hangsang deo yeui baleun geos-eul aljiman. abeojido

sal-aissneun geos-e daehae hal mal-i myeoch gaeiss-eossseubnida.

geuneun saeng-gyeneun yeonghon-ui ganbyeong-in il ppun-ilago malhaessda.

geudeul-eun geudeul-ui jonjaega modeun geos-ilago saeng-gaghago modeun geos-eul algo issseubnida

geudeul-eun gamgag-eulo manh-eun geosdeul-eul gyeongheomhagi ttaemun-ibnida.

sal-aissneun salamdeul-i injeonghaji anhneun geos-eun geudeul-ui sigan-i jjalbgo

naega swigi wihae mom-eul nubhimyeon yeonghon-eun

geudeul-eobs-i, geudeul-ui ganghan-eobs-i, geudeul-ui yaghan-eobs-i, geudeul-ui

naega malhal sueobsneun gos-e aleumdabgeona simjieo chuaghan ilsijeog-in hyeongtae

deo joh-eun gos-ibnida.

peosineun jang-uisaga gwan-e ttukkeong-eul deopgo yeonghon-eun jayulowossda


sijag

This is terrible tragic news, and if it is bullying too.

You support fragile people, you never bully them.

You love them even more, and do what you can.

You never ever bully.

The Dead and The Living ©

by

Michael Casey

I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not

to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter

has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has

been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to

eternity .

In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the

stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and

the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .

I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living ,

though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also

had a few words to say about the living .

He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet

they think their existence is everything , that they know everything

because they experience many things with their senses .

What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short and

when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without

them , without their strong , without their weak , without their

beautiful or even ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only

that it is a better place .

Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free

THE BEGINNING