#53. 창렬 -- There's barely anything there!

Have you ever been unhappy that your bag of chips contains just a little bit too much air (okay, nitrogen, actually), and not enough chips? If so, the Koreans have a perfect expression for you. They would say:

감자칩 양이 창렬이네. (The amount of potato chips is "창렬.")

 So, let me tell you about what this word means. The word "창렬" is short for "김창렬,"which is the name of this guy.

Say hello to 창렬.

He is a Korean singer, who is actually quite good at singing. Due to his celebrity status, he signed an advertising contract with 7-Eleven Korea (a convenience store), over their own brand of frozen food. The contract specified that the frozen foods will be branded as "김창렬의 포장마차 (roughly, 김창렬's street food)."  Unfortunately, the quality of the food wasn't so great. Here are a couple of examples. Compare what's pictured on the package, versus what the consumers actually got:

Pig's feet and pig's head meat

Blood sausage stir fry

Understandably, the consumers were pretty upset. The whole thing started, because one of the internet users, who had seen these pictures circulate on the internet, came up with an admittedly very good 드립: He called it "에미창렬."

Now, "에미창렬" is a clever 드립 because it almost sounds like a swear word in Korean. One of the worst insults that you can tell someone is "에미창녀" meaning that "your mother (에미) is a prostitute (창녀)." Here, "에미" is a dialect form of "어머니," and in this case, this has the effect of adding vulgarity. (Okay, just to add to this, although this is a terrible insult in real life, this is actually not that bad of an insult on the Korean internet forum -- Korean internet is truly a wild place!)

And you see that "에미창녀" and "에미창렬" sound very, very similar. And it also expresses the rage the consumer must have expected opening this package of frozen food!

So that stuck, and by dropping "에미," 김창렬's first name, 창렬, became the newest Korean slang. (because, why bring your mother into it, right?) By calling something a "창렬," you're basically saying that it has no content. And that's how a new Korean internet slang is born! Use this word with young-ish Koreans, and they will most likely understand you. With the older Koreans, I'm not so sure. It's not that offensive, other than the fact that you're using this random guy's first name without even knowing him (and you're probably younger than him, too).

If you're wondering how 김창렬 took this neologism, well, he didn't take it well. He believed that his public image took a hit because of this Korean slang, and he sued 7-11 over his damaged reputation. On February 3, 2017, he lost the lawsuit (although perhaps he'll appeal). The judge cited the reason that his image was already not that great with the public (i.e. his image was already 창렬?!) -- he had settled many assault cases with his victims, and he also had some DUI records under his belt. The judge also said that the public was already making fun of a lot of over-packaged food items, and this was just one of these instances, and not directed personally at him. Fair? Unfair? I am not so sure. But there you have it.

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#52. 지잡대 -- Does happiness correlate with your grades?

First, a very important disclaimer. The contents in this post are pretty much only useful for starting up a fight online (and understanding fights between other users, I guess.) You should probably expect a fair bit of hate if you dare to use these words in real life. I mean, I've done posts on a lot of rude words, but this post contains the issue that most Koreans feel particularly sensitive about, because it touches a nerve with all the Koreans. So use extreme caution!

Koreans don't deny that there is a problem with their education system. I think that the root of the issue is so deep that the Koreans don't know where to start to fix this. The Korean logic goes as follows.

In order to be happy, you must have a good, stable job.

Good, stable jobs are one of the following. A doctor (의사); a high-level governmental post (고위 공무원, where "고위" means "high level." "고" means "high" as in "고급 (high level/high quality)" or "고층 (high rise)," and the letter "위" means place as in "위치 (place)". I've explained "공무원" in a previous post.); or an employee of a large corporate such as Samsung or LG (Samsung, in particular, is so desired that there is a nickname for the people who work for Samsung: they are called 삼성맨, or Samsung-man.)

So, three possibilities here.

If you want to be a doctor, you must get into a medical school (in Korea, you get in straight out of high school.) Well, medical schools are THE hardest schools to get into (doesn't matter what university they're attached to.) You must more or less have a perfect score on the 대학수학능력시험 (수능 for short, College Scholastic Ability Test), which is the insanely difficult college entrance exam of Korea.

If you want to be a high-level government worker, the best way to achieve that is to get into the best law school (connections and good education help, you know), and pass the bar with a high score to become a prosecutor or a judge. Well, law schools at the best universities are also extremely competitive. Again, you must score very very well on the 수능.

If you want to get into a large corporate, the best thing you can have on your resume is the name of the most elite school of Korea with a reasonable major. These schools are usually 서울대학교 (Seoul National University), 연세대학교 (Yonsei University), 고려대학교 (Koryo University), 카이스트 (KAIST), and 포항공대 (Postech). Not surprisingly, the required scores in 수능 are fairly unrealistically high.

 So summing up the above points, if you want to be happy, you must score well on 수능, which you take when you are in your final year of high school (고등학교 3학년 in Korea, as high schools last for three years.) The third years of high school are called 고삼 or 고3 for short, and as you may imagine, the word "고3" carries a very specific connotation.

As an example, I took piano lessons when I lived in Korea. I would practice piano from 4-5pm when I came back home from school. But for one year, my mother, who was usually draconian about keeping my practice time, forbade me from playing the piano. That was the year when our next-door neighbour had a daughter who was a 고3. As she was studying all the time for the biggest test of her life, it just made sense that we were going to do everything that we can to help her out (in our case, being quiet.)

The younger students often show up on the day of the 수능 to cheer on the 고3. The 고3 are truly treated like kings and queens for the one year!

If they mess up the 수능, which happens exactly once a year, they must spend yet another year trying to take it again. They are then called a 재수생 ("재" means to repeat, as in "재방송 (re-run)"). The 재수생 are pretty common in Korea. If they fail again, though, then they are called 삼수생 ("삼" as in three, since they're taking the test for the third time). And the count goes on. At some point, they're just called n수생 (re-taking the 수능 for the n-th time), and that becomes a mild insult.

So anyway, this one test, and consequently the university that you are admitted to, largely determines your life trajectory. No wonder the Koreans would be sensitive about which university they go to, especially if they feel that they are attending a sub-par university. This university that you attend might predict the kind of life that you will live, to some degree (Of course, there are some exceptions, but for the large part, the system is set up in a way that the name of the university matters too much!)

Because the name of the university that you go to is such a sensitive topic, this provides a very good ammunition to the Korean internet users online. When you get into a battle with another user (often called a "keyboard battle" or 키보드 배틀 in Korean), basically assuming that the user goes to a "terrible" university and attacking the user from that angle is a good idea if you want to win the battle. I mean, statistically speaking, chances are, there are more people that attend "mediocre" universities than those that attend "elite" universities.

Or it's just a good way to 어그로 끌기 (i.e. anger a lot of people at once.) Post a picture that looks like the following, and you will suddenly find yourself surrounded by hundreds of angry Korean internet users. If you're the kind of person who likes that kind of attention, it could be fun.

The red lines often are called "넘사벽." And it's used in the most derisive nuance possible, of course, because the whole point of posting one of these is to insult a lot of other users.

There are names that denote each classes of these universities. As you move down the list, the more derogatory it becomes.

The top tier universities consisting of Seoul National University, Yonsei University, Koryo University, KAIST, and Postech often go by the names 스카이 (SKY: Seoul, Koryo, and Yonsei, this is particularly brilliant because getting into one of these schools is as hard as reaching for the sky), 서연고 (서울, 연세, 고려), or 서카포 (서울, 카이스트, 포항공대). If you're more of a humanities person, you want to go to SKY, if you're more of a STEM person, you want to go to 서카포, so you never refer to all five at the same time, I guess. (This explains "누가봐도 명문대" comment in the picture; it means "you can't argue that these are elite universities.")

The next tier universities are often called 서성한 중경외시 (서강대, 성균관대, 한양대, 중앙대, 경희대, 외국어대, 시립대), by just taking the first letters of the universites on the list. This is a phrase that all Koreans know, weirdly enough. Up to here, the names of the universities are definitely compliments. (In the picture, they are referred to as "가끔씩은명문대." It means "sometimes considered as elite universities.")

The next tier of universities are called 지거국 (short for 지방 거점 국립대학교, provincially-located national universities). These universities, although not in Seoul, are nationally endorsed, and are still very good. The nuance is fairly neutral. (In the above picture, they are described as "그래도 공부 좀 했네," or "You were probably pretty smart in high school.")

Then the next tier is more or less nameless. Those that are located in Seoul, which are preferred since Seoul is more fun, are often called 인서울 which comes from the English compound word in-Seoul. This is because most universities in the next tier are located in Seoul. You could imagine that university students probably want to live in Seoul, so that they can have some fun! Up to here, the nuance of these words are fairly neutral. (The diagram describes these schools as "아주 놀진 않았네," or "You didn't let yourself go in high school.")

As for the universities that didn't make it to this list, the internet users often call these universities "지잡대." This is for "지방에 있는 잡스러운 대학." This is a really terrible insult. Most of the derogatory nuance comes from the word "잡스럽다." This has the same root as the word "잡종," which denotes the animals without any particular breed. For example, mutts are 잡종. The nuance here is that the universities not on the list are so without roots that it is not worth calling them by name. Here are some of the common insults:

말하는걸 보니 넌 지잡대 다니는 듯 ㅋㅋ (Judging by how you speak, you must go to a mutt university.)

지잡대생이 뭘 안다고 잘난척이냐? (Why are you pretending to know things when you're nothing but a mutt university student?)

Here, -생 suffix means the student of a particular school, in this case, a 지잡대. You can use this to say 서울대생 (student of Seoul National University), or 인서울생 (student of an in-Seoul university), etc.

Remember that the name of the universities largely determine the Koreans' futures (much like how your heritage and breed determined your future back in the olden days!) So hearing that you're nothing more than a mutt is not only just an insult, it's an insult based on truth. It really hurts. If you use this word against an internet user, chances are, he will be coming at your throat with all the insult he has in his verbal arsenal.

Not only that, if you release a diagram such as the above, the rest of the users will be chiming in, saying things like "University X doesn't belong in that tier, it should be in the tier above," or "What are you thinking putting University Y in that tier? Its quality has gone down since the 90s" etc.

Pretty much, if you ever bring up the topic of universities in a Korean internet forum, hell is sure to break loose (Amusingly, there's a version for foreign universities too. As a lot of Koreans study abroad, that also brings out the same reaction.)

It's a terrible situation that Korea has gotten itself into, but it will need a lot of time to figure out how to resolve this issue of extreme ranking of universities. Here's hoping that things improve one day!

Addendum: Per request, here is a chart comparing Korean universities to Foreign universities. It seems to have been made by someone not attending Korean universities, given that the Korean universities are ranked very low. Remember that these charts are made to anger, not to disseminate information, and enjoy! (you might have to download or open the chart in a separate window to be able to read it.)

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#51. Hobgoblin's magical club (Shamanism 1)

First, an announcement! I'm back on Twitter! I had given up for a while because I didn't know how to effectively use it. But now I'll use my Twitter account for your practice. Tweet your attempt at Korean slang at my Twitter account and I will tweet back with corrections (or affirmation that it is correct).

And now, I start the first installment of a series that I hope will tell you about the Korean shamanism, a topic that has long fascinated me. Most Koreans kind of learn by experience (it's not like most of us explicitly practice shamanism, or take a shamanism class!) so my hope is that you'll have a similar experience through the stories that I grew up with. Questions? Complaints? Leave them as comments. Here goes!

Korea has always been, and still is, a fairly pagan country. Throughout the history, many different kinds of religion were mixed with each other, and created a very unique brand of religion that does not exist outside of Korea. Korea has its own native gods, its own fairies, and its own demons, and much more.

Unfortunately, most of the folklore is based on oral tradition. While the Western parents put their children to bed with a fairy tale, Korean grandparents (Korean families all lived together in one big house!) would entertain their grandchildren through the long winter nights over roasted chestnuts (군밤) and sweet potatoes (군고구마) over a charcoal warmer (화로). 

So, gather around with your roasted chestnuts and a blanket, lie on the warmest part of the stone-heated floor (아랫목), and I'll tell you some stories from my childhood that my grandparents have told me. Through the "folklore" series of this blog, you will get to meet the Korean deities and the demons, which form the basis of the modern Korean shamanism as well. I will upload a folklore every Wednesday.

Yum!

Well, that's the mood that I want to set for these folklore series. I want you to imagine that you're huddled in a warm room with your grandparents, and they're about to tell you a story.

But let's be realistic here. It's summer. It's hot (sorry, southern hemisphere readers!) You don't want a bunch of hot charcoals in your room. So I'm going to do what the Koreans do, and start off with a scary story. Scary stories give you goosebumps, and you also get goosebumps when you're cold. So, in Korea, summer and scary stories go together. Most scary movies open in the summer, and people sit around telling each other scary stories in a summer campground. So that's what I'm going to do. Not going all out with the scariest story I know just yet, but I still want to talk about a demon, rather than a god.

So, here goes. This story is called "도깨비 방망이 이야기 (story of hobgoblin's magical club.)"

=================================================================

Once upon a time, there lived a good, but poor woodcutter (나무꾼). He lived with his parents and his wife, and he supported all of them through woodcutting. One day, while he was cutting wood as usual, he came upon a hazelnut bean (개암 열매).

"Wow, what a lucky day!" he exclaimed. "My parents would love this hazelnut!"

As he returned back to gathering wood, he found yet another hazelnut bean. Ecstatic, he cried, "Now my wife can also taste this hazelnut! What a lucky day!"

In a little while, he chanced upon a third hazelnut. Totally satisfied, he told himself, "This one is for me."

Unfortunately, the day had already gotten dark, and he could not find his way back to his hut, where his family was waiting for him. Not wanting to risk the treacherous paths in the mountain, he looked for a shelter for the night, and soon came upon an abandoned house. He huddled down in a small empty room, and fell asleep.

Houses like this, called 초가집 (house of grass roof), is where most Koreans lived, unless they were upper class.

But he was soon awoken by very loud noise. Terrified, he peeked outside his room. There were a bunch of 도깨비 (often translated as hobgoblins) sitting around and being merry. Now, 도깨비 are supernatural beings that look almost human. They're not exactly malicious, but it's not exactly friendly, either. They're playful and strong, and you should be a little afraid if you encounter it.

Afraid is exactly what this woodcutter felt. He hid in his little room and watched the 도깨비 wave around their magical clubs (도깨비 방망이). They yelled, "금나와라 뚝딱! (give me some gold! 뚝딱 is an onomatopoeia)" while waving the club, and gold magically appeared. Then they yelled, "은나와라 뚝딱!" and some silver appeared.

The 도꺠비 방망이 is often depicted as a spiked club

Seeing all the wealth made the 나무꾼 feel hungry. As the hazelnut beans were the only things he had in person, he cracked one of them with his teeth.

CRACK, it went. The 도깨비 heard it, and wondered what was making this loud noise.

The woodcutter bit into another hazelnut as he couldn't contain his hunger, and CRACK went the second hazelnut. The 도깨비, startled, looked around and still could not figure out what was making the noise.

Still hungry, the woodcutter cracked the third hazelnut. CRACK. The 도깨비, terrified at this unknown noise, finally fled, leaving their 도깨비 방망이 behind. The good woodcutter went home in the morning with the 도깨비 방망이, and he was able to support his family very well without ever having to cut wood again.

If you HAD to encounter a Korean demon, I'd say that 도깨비 is probably the best. They look like very strong humans (some say that they have horns, some say that they don't), they're fun-loving, they're open to conversation with humans, and most of all, they're kind of dumb.

The good woodcutter's neighbour, who was not an honest man, became jealous of the woodcutter's sudden wealth. He nagged and nagged the good woodcutter until the good woodcutter told him of his secret, and how he obtained the 도깨비 방망이.

So the neighbour retraced the woodcutter's steps. He also found three hazelnut beans. The first, he declared, was for himself. The second was for his wife, and the last was for his parents (A big no-no, according to Confucianism! Parents are always first, and you put yourself last.)

He found the old abandoned house and hid in the room that the woodcutter told him about. Sure enough, the 도깨비 appeared and started playing with their 도깨비 방망이 again, conjuring up gold and silver.

The neighbour bit into his hazelnut. CRACK. The 도깨비 started looking around. Excited, he quickly bit into his second and third hazelnuts -- CRACK -- CRACK!

However, the 도깨비, instead of fleeing in terror, looked straight into his eyes, and said, "You're the reason we lost one of our magical clubs the other day! We will make you pay for that today." Then the 도깨비 proceeded to beat him up with their magical clubs until the crack of the dawn, and they disappeared. The disheartened neighbour came back home with nothing but bruises.

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Do Koreans still believe in the 도깨비? Not really, except a very small minority (I'll come back to this at another time.) But 도깨비 still makes appearances in many Korean literature, TV shows, and manhwa. It is a supernatural being particularly beloved by the Koreans, because it is right in the border between friendly gods and malicious demons. So it is unpredictable and it loves to have fun! (See how humour has always been a big part of the Koreans' lives?)

Many Korean children are introduced to the Korean demons via 도깨비, because they're really not that bad. Preparing your children for the 도깨비 meant that your children was ready to understand humour. And as a result, it is probably the most well-known and iconic of the Korean demons!

So, remember: always have your wits about you. As long as you can do that, 도깨비 can be defeated, and you will be handsomely rewarded!

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#50. Test your knowledge of the Korean internet slang!

This is the fiftieth post on the Korean internet slang! It's been an amazing ride. The daily readership increased from just a couple of people to hundreds of people (the most popular post has nearly four thousand views!) and I wouldn't have continued this blog if it weren't for the encouragement of you, the readers. So, thank you for reaching out to me via email and via the comments, thank you for your encouraging comments on Reddit, and most of all, thank you for visiting my blog! As a first-time blogger, just the fact that you're clicking on my blog means the world to me.

As you know, Koreans are big on anniversaries. If you're dating, the first anniversary that you celebrate (not counting birthdays or holidays) is 백일, or one hundred days. Although I'm not quite there yet, as a celebration of my fiftieth post, here are some fill-in-the-blank questions, based on my previous posts. See if your knowledge of the Korean internet slang has improved! (First, the questions. Then I'll give the translations of the questions, followed by the answers.)

#1.
A: 아마존에 사는 사람이 누구게?
B: 몰라. 누군데?
A: 아마... 존? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
B: 야! 니가 아저씨야? ______ 그만하고 좀 제대로 웃겨봐!

a) 궁예질
b) 막장
c) 아재개그
d) 왕따

#2.
A: 엄마가 9시까지 집에 들어오라고 했는데 벌써 11시가 넘었네.
B: ㅋㅋㅋ 너 엄마한테 _________.

a) 맞을 각이다.
b) 궁서체다.
c) 역주행한다.
d) 낚시한다.

#3.
A: 나 군대에 있을때 시험보는것마다 1등해서 대령까지 진급하고 전역했다.
B: 야 이 ______, 거짓말도 적당히 해라.

a) 사골아
b) 급식충아,
c) 단풍국아,
d) 용자야,

#4.
A: 소미는 또 수학시험 백점이라면서?
B: 난 아무리 공부를 해도 80점을 넘겨본적이 없는데 ㅠㅠ
A: 나도 그래. 소미는 진짜 _______인듯.

a) 의자왕
b) 죽빵
c) 어그로
d) 넘사벽

#5.
A: 혹시 "모래시계"라는 드라마 본적 있어요?
B: 아뇨, 아직 안봤어요. 사실 이번 주말에 _____ 하려고 했어요.

a) 사이다
b) 이불킥
c) 정주행
d) 도배



#1. The dialogue translates as:
A: Who is the person who lives in Amazon?
B: I have no idea. Who?
A: Maybe... John? ("Ama" is pronounced "아마" in Korean, and it means "maybe"; "zon" sounds the same in Korean as "John" since Z and J don't get distinguished.)
B: Ugh. You're not old enough to be an 아저씨 yet. Stop making ______ and work on your humour!

#2. The dialogue translates as:
A: Mom told me to be back by 9pm, and it's alread past 11pm.
B: lol. Your mom is going to _______.

#3. The dialogue translates as:
A: When I was doing my military service, I aced every test, so I was promoted to colonel by the time I left the army.
B: You _____. At least make your lies realistic.

#4. The dialogue translates as:
A: I heard that Somi scored another 100% on her math test.
B: Even though I study really hard every time, I've never gotten above 80% :(
A: Me too. To us, Somi is really _______.

#5. The dialogue translates as:
A: Have you ever seen the drama called "Sandglass"? (It is one of the most popular Korean dramas to date, which aired in 1995. When it aired, it is said that 65% of the Koreans watched this drama, according to the polls.)
B: No, I have never watched it. But I was planning to _______ this weekend.


Answers:
1: c
2: a
3: b
4: d
5: c

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#49. 정신승리 -- Well, I was right anyway

I really really like getting into arguments. I like respectful debates where I try to change the other person's perspective, and the other person is doing the same to me. I usually come out having learned something, and my opinion also changes more often than you'd expect.

That being said, I cannot stand getting into an argument without any logic. Unfortunately, online debates, on average, have worse quality than in-person debates. The other day, I got into a heated argument online with a conspiracy theorist (call him JU for Jong-Un, because, who else could he be?) about whether North Korea is a utopia or not (Yes, I know, I spend way too much time on the internet -- I swear I'm trying to cut down!)

I provided proof upon proof that there are serious issues with human rights in North Korea, citing statistics and interviews from the North Korean refugees, and photos taken in North Korea. JU basically didn't listen to anything that I said. Every time I try to show him a concrete fact, he would flatly tell me that there was no proof that they weren't fabricated. What was I to judge North Korea, without any proof that these "facts" were real?

Okay, I guess he might have a point. But more likely than not, he is just so caught up in his own world that no amount of proof can penetrate his mental defense. In other words, JU is invincible, thanks to his mentality.

I won't lie, the whole time, I was telling myself:

와, 저사람 정신승리 정말 대단하다. (His mind victory is incredible.)

The word "정신승리" literally means "mind (정신) victory (승리)." Because in his own world (inside his mind, or 정신), JU is truly invincible and thus will be the victor every time (승리). It's an extreme form of rationalization.

We see a milder kinds of people who achieve 정신승리 every day by making lame excuses. When someone loses in a video game, she might say:

랙걸려서 진거야. 원래는 내가 너보다 잘해 (I only lost because my internet connection was lagging. If it weren't for that, I'm better than you.)

By the way, notice that when the internet connection is lagging, the Koreans use the verb "걸리다" to say "랙 걸리다/랙이 걸리다." Anyway, you know that you're definitely better than her, so you're thinking to herself (or telling herself outright):

정신승리 하고있네 (You're just giving yourself a mind victory.)

In addition to this, millions of scenarios where someone can achieve 정신승리. They might just curse you out; they might refuse to listen to the content of your argument, instead focusing on grammatical and small discrepancies of your arguments, basically stagnating the debate; or loudly declare you to be the 어그로꾼 and 낚시꾼 (the suffix -꾼 denotes the person who is carrying out the act of 어그로 or 낚시); or they might even walk away from the argument entirely, accusing you to be incapable of carrying on a debate, when in reality, they are the ones who can't distinguish facts from blind beliefs.

For some reason, the Korean internet seems to have a surprising number of 정신승리 happening every day. When you spot them, be sure to call them out! The other users will appreciate the 사이다.

To finish, of course the word is sarcastic. You should only use it when you're picking fights (of course you shouldn't fight! But in the land of the Korean internet, sometimes it is just inevitable, and at the end of the day, it is all in good fun...)

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#48. 어그로 -- You're provoking it!

It's been a while since I did a post on a Korean slang word that originates from video games, so here is a fun one.

Koreans play a lot of MMORPGs (Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games). Some of the really popular ones, among many others, include Lineage (리니지 in Korean) and World of Warcraft (WoW, or 와우 by pronouncing the abbreviation in Korean).

One feature of these MMORPGs is that each character comes with a bunch of stats. One of these stats is called "aggravation," which measures how belligerent your character is. The higher your aggravation stats are, the likely you are to draw the attention of the non-player characters (such as monsters prowling nearby) and be attacked. So gamers often talk about the "aggro stats." In Korean, "aggro" is pronounced "어그로," not exactly sure why, but this is what stuck.

But Korea, being the unofficial gaming capital of the world, is probably the only country that brought this gaming word into mainstream usage. Even outside of these gaming settings, if a particular user seems to be acting belligerently, or acting in a fashion that would attract fights, the Koreans would say:

저 분 어그로 끄시는듯 (This person seems to be asking to be attacked).

For some reason, the act of provoking others as a verb is "어그로를 끌다." Although it is not entirely clear to me why the correct verb would be "끌다," but my guess is that this comes from another slang of a similar meaning. In an earlier post, I had talked about how certain Korean internet users troll for reaction. In Korean, such an act could be described as "낚시를 하다" or "go fishing."

Nuance-wise, "어그로를 끌다" is more of a large-scale trolling, whereas "낚시를 하다" is more in the scale of a small practical joke. Well, large-scale fishing would be done by casting a net into the sea. In order to get more fish, you would drag the net. "To drag" in Korean is "끌다." So, that's my guess.

The above picture is pretty well-known in the Korean internet circles as an example of "어그로를 끌다." If you read the caption, it is definitely anger-inducing. It shows a segment of the Korean TV news. The title of the article is "월요일이 무서워요... 월요병 해결방법은?" (I am afraid of Mondays... How to cure the Monday sickness).

The solution offered by the news source? "심할 경우 일요일 출근해 잠간 일하면 도움돼" (If the Monday sickness becomes too much, showing up to work for a little while on Sundays helps). And this infuriated a lot of Koreans, especially considering that this is coming from a national news source! Many Koreans watched this news and probably said to themselves:

어그로 한번 제대로 끌었네 (That was a proper display of "aggro").

This word, as it comes from video games, is definitely safe to use with your peers, but likely the elders won't understand it. It's not particularly offensive, although it is definitely vulgar.

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Listening Exercise with Transcript #8: Hurry up!

Here is a short sketch from the TV show "Gag Concert (개그 콘서트)," which, unlike most Korean TV shows, takes the form of live stand-up comedy. It is the longest-running comedy program of Korea, having started in 1999, and it is still ongoing, although its popularity is not what it used to be.

The comedians would prepare a recurring theme, and broadcast a short skit loosely fitting this theme for weeks or months, based on the reception from the audience. So although the sketches were new every week, you could make an educated guess about how the skit would go.

One such theme, which was very popular and ran for years, was called "달인 (world expert)." The rough idea is that an MC of an imaginary show called "달인을 만나다" would introduce a guest (in reality, same comedian every time) who is the world expert at some random thing (the guest always appears with his top apprentice, called "수제자" in Korean), because he practiced it for several years. When they put him to the test, however, he fails miserably, and he ends up being booted from the show.

So the title of this sketch series (it's called "코너" or "corner" in Koreanized English) shows irony -- the letter "달" means "to be an expert at, or to have transcendental expertise." This letter is most used in "통달하다" (to know everything).  The letter "인" means "a person," as in "인부" (workman) or "부인" (wife). So "달인" actually means something more than just a "world expert" -- it's "someone who is so good that it feels like he transcends this world."

Anyway, here is the clip: see how much you can understand! (Warning: the dialogue is fast, so it is normal to not understand a word!)

And the transcript follows: B for the guy in black on right, and W for the guy in the middle wearing white (the guy wearing blue doesn't say anything.) To facilitate your understanding, proper nouns are placed in quotation marks! The explanation of the clip follows the transcript.

B: 네 여러분 안녕하십니까! "달인을 만나다"의 "류담"입니다. 오늘 이시간에는 16년동안 시간의 소중함을...
W: 아~ 빠, 빠, 빠, 빠, 빨리 얘기해. 빨리 빨리 빨리 얘기해. 빨리 빨리!
B: 시간의 소중함을 깨닫고 급한 성격으로 살아오신 급한 성격의 달인, "조퇴 김병만" 선생님을 모셨습니다.
W: 아 거거, 뭐 좀, "조퇴 김병만"이에요, "조퇴 김병만." 빨리 얘기해야지 뭘 그렇게...
B: 어우, 진짜 성격 급하시네!
W: 그 얘기 하는데 길어요? 시간없어 죽겠는데?
B: 네 알겠습니다... 선생님께서 얼마전에...
W: 얼마전에 뭐, 뭐?
B: 네, 얼마전에...
W: 아, 무슨 얘기 하려고 하는데, 지금? 아, 무슨 얘기 하려고, 지금?
B: 아, 아니, 네, 얼마전에 그 책을 쓰셨다고...
W: 아 책 냈어, 책 냈어요!
그... "가는 말이 빨라야 오는 말이 빠르다."
B: "가는 말이 빨라야 오는말이 빠르다."
W: 네 그책 냈어요. 아우, 나 목타죽겠다. 가서 물 좀 떠와, 아 빨리 물 좀 떠와! 빨리 가서... 그 하나, 둘, 셋, 놔둬! 임마 안먹어 안먹어 안먹어 늦었어,늦었어 시간없어죽겠는데 그 빨리... 저... 가만있어봐.
어 아가씨 마음에 드는데 어? 나랑 사겨! 어? 싫어? 어? 셋셀때까지 얘기해.
하나, 둘, 셋, 놔둬! 늦었어 늦었어 늦었어! 내가먼저 찬거야, 내가먼저 찼어!
B: 먼저찼다고요?
W: 늦었어 늦었어! 어, 내가먼저찼어.
빨리빨리빨리 얘기해, 시간 없어 죽겠네!
B:  예, 알겠습니다. 오늘 저희가 준비한...
W: 시간 없어 죽겠네, 에이 참!
B: 질문이 한 30가지가 됩니다.
W: 무슨 30가지야! 혼자 "개그콘서트" 다 할거야? 가만있어봐.
요것 아니고, 요것 아니고, 아 요것만해. 맨 끝에거.
B: 맨 끝에것만 하라고요?
W: 아 맨끝에것만 하기 싫어? 자, 하나, 둘, 셋!
B: 나가!

B: 야 수제자! 야~ 넌 느긋하다! 어? 커피도 타먹고.


This transcript is hard to understand for a couple of reason. First of all, the character in white, called "조퇴 김병만," speaks very, very quickly (I also had to listen to certain parts a few times before understanding him!) Also, the characters constantly interrupt each other!

First, an explanation of the name "조퇴 김병만." Back in the days of Joseon Dynasty or older, many learned people (선비) used to give themselves another name. It's not so different from how the anglophones give themselves nickname, such as John "the Dude" Doe, except the tone is a lot more serious. As an example, 이황 (Hwang Lee), the guy on your 1,000 won bills, gave himself the nickname of "퇴계," meaning "leaving this world." ("퇴" as in "퇴장" meaning "exit," and "계" meaning "the world" as in "세계." He probably wanted to leave the messy world of politics and indulge in the nature and other spiritual things dictated by Confucianism!) So now the Koreans often call him "퇴계 이황."

This guy. Hwang "Out of this World" Lee.

So 김병만, the comedian in white, gave himself the nickname of "조퇴" meaning "early dismissal," often used in schools when you leave school early for sickness or other reasons. Somehow this word is not nearly as serious in tone as the other nicknames that the Koreans of the olden days used, so it is already pretty funny! And true to his nickname, he is in a hurry for no reason, speaking very quickly and cutting the man in black (his name is 류담, as he says in the transcript) off all the time.

In this sketch, 김병만 is the world expert of being in a hurry ("급한 성격" meaning hurried personality.) He hurries things up so much that he transcends everyone in hurrying up.

While the MC 류담 is trying to interview him, 조퇴 김병만 is constantly distracted and annoyed at the slow pace of the MC. When the MC is trying to mention the book that he's written, named "가는 말이 빨라야 오는 말도 빠르다," 김병만 tries to complete the MC's sentence. (By the way, the title of the book is a play on the Korean proverb, "가는 말이 고와야 오는 말도 곱다," or "Only when you speak nicely to others, will the others speak nicely to you." He replaces "nice" by "quickly.")

He then wants a glass of water, but when his apprentice is too slow, he gives up. He then spots a cute girl in the audience and asks her out, but when she is not quick enough to respond (until he counts to three), he gives up and claims that he dumped her. Finally, the MC tries to go through the list of 30 questions that they prepared, and 김병만 says that he has no time for this, and that he will only do the last question. MC has enough of it and kicks him off.

Then his top apprentice, who seemed like he was not so much in a hurry (because he fiddles with a coffee mix, presumably to mix it with hot water and make a cup of coffee for himself), just swallows the coffee mix instead of actually making a cup of coffee.

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#47. 훈장질, 선비질 -- Stepping into Korea's past

If you stop to think about it, it might astound you just how much of the life from the Joseon Dynasty (조선 시대) carried over to our modern life.

In today's Korea, one of the jobs that are considered the best by the Korean people is to be a public servant (공무원: "공" means "public" as in "공공기관 (public institution)" or "공익 (public good)"; "무" means "work" as in "업무 (work)"; "원" refers to a person who holds down a particular job.) The reason for this is simple. While any other job, be it by a corporate or self-employment, has the potential to disappear, being a public servant is as stable as it gets. Getting fired takes a lot of paperwork (just like any other governmental work!) and promotion is more or less automatic. When you retire, you are given a good pension to comfortably live out the rest of your life. Even though the public servants tend to get paid less than corporate jobs, the Koreans still flock to this job due to its stability.

How to obtain one of these jobs? Simple. Take a test. This test, called 공무원 시험 (literally, public servant test), often tests your knowledge in Korean, English, Korean history, and other subjects relevant to the position that you are applying for. For most of the Korean public servant positions, you must pass one of these tests. There are classes of public servants. The lowest being 9급 공무원 (level 9 public servant), who work in local offices. The highest is 1급 공무원 (level 1 public servant), who work as the head of national-level governmental offices.

These tests are, as you may guess, very competitive. For example, in 2016, for the 9급 공무원 시험 (test to select level 9 public servants), about 165,000 people signed up to take the test. The target number of public servants? Around 4,000. Many people waste years of their lives trying to score well on these tests, but things don't always go as planned.

This may seem like a strange way to select public servants. This is because the tradition of taking a test to hold a governmental post goes back to the Joseon Dynasty.

Back then, the level of the public servants went from the lowest of level 9 (9품) to the highest of level 1 (1품). They were selected by a nationally administered test called "과거 시험," and if you passed the test, then you were given a governmental post. If you pass, it was an honour of the family, and of your village, as it was very competitive -- often around two hundred people were selected out of hundreds of thousands of people who took the test. Not much has changed, huh?

Koreans sometimes reenact the 과거시험, which was held in one of the palaces around Seoul.

Anyway, in order to prepare for the test, you often had to start preparing at a very young age, pretty much as soon as you could walk and talk. In most villages, some people (sometimes retired public servants, sometimes just literate people) opened private schools, and taught the children of the village how to read and write. (As an interesting aside, there were a few nationally operated schools for talented or rich students -- the most famous one is 성균관, which is now a well-recognized university in Korea, and it has a language school that many foreigners go to in order to learn Korean!)

This iconic picture depicts a child being admonished by his teacher while his classmates look on with glee.

These precursors of teachers were called "훈장" or "훈장님." They taught Chinese characters, Confucianism, and ethics (most of which were tested in the 과거 시험). They were probably very strict, making sure that the students were up to the standards not only in reading and writing, but also in their ethics and everyday behaviour. After all, Confucianism is less a subject and more a way of life (which emphasizes humanity, loyalty, filial piety, and so on), so the 훈장님 had every right to interfere with how you were living with your life!

And then there were the other learned people, who did not necessarily teach the village children, but were just as well-versed in Confucianism as the 훈장님. These people were called 선비. They were smart, well-mannered, and seemingly incorruptible. If you were doing something that was morally wrong (say eating from your neighbour's apple tree) and a 선비 passed by you, you would have been ashamed to be caught by him, although they may or may not have said something to you.

This is how a typical 선비 used to dress. From the long overcoat called 도포 and the characteristic hat called 갓, you could recognize a 선비 from a mile away.

While these people were very much well-respected in Korea's past, now the Koreans seem to think that these people were probably a bit too intrusive. So, even these very respected people did not escape Korea's internet users.

For example, you might encounter a user who thinks that swearing is immoral, and they either try to put you down, or suggest a phrase that you could say instead. Or, when you're ranting about your ex, a user chimes in and says that you are being too emotional and unfair, and that in any case, you should never say anything bad about people that you know in a public place. In your anger, you can say:

훈장질 하지 마 (Don't play teacher)

 or

선비 납셨네 (Here comes a 선비.)

"-질" is a derogatory suffix that attaches to job titles, so "훈장질" means you're playing the part of a teacher when you really shouldn't. "납시다" is an extremely respectful form of "오시다" which is already a respectful form of "오다 (to come)." You never use this word in modern Korea, as it could only be taken as sarcasm. In ancient Korea, this word would have been used only for the king. So by saying "선비 납셨네," you are saying, "A 선비 deigned to come to my humble abode" or something along these lines.

In both cases, you're basically making fun of their holier-than-thou attitudes, and these usages are fairly common non-profanity in Korea's online communities. While it is not vulgar enough to get you banned (some communities ban you for extreme swearing) it is bad enough to insult the listener. It also gets used among friends, but saying this to a stranger (especially older strangers) is a sure formula for some sort of a fight (probably verbal, as you wouldn't provoke them enough for a fistfight.)

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#46. 아재개그 -- Dad jokes (feat. Mamamoo)

Okay, I'll admit this now. I am a big fan of Mamamoo. And they just came out with a new song today that has such clever lyrics, that despite the fact that I had already scheduled my posts to appear for the next week, I am going to change the order around and write a post about how cute their lyrics are.

Before going into that, though, one of the readers of this blog had commented before that certain ideas seem to transcend languages (the example that prompted this discussion was the fact that when someone is beyond frustrating, Koreans call them "carcinogenic," or "발암" -- on Reddit, you often see the comments of the form "this post just gave me cancer.")

Another instance of the transcendence of ideas is the idea of "dad jokes." For some reason, in both anglophone and Korean cultures, people think that dads really like lame jokes (Given that my dad is the master of lame pun-y jokes, I can't dispute that!)

The Korean equivalent of "dad jokes" is "아재개그." The word "아재" is a 경상 dialect (경상도 사투리) for "아저씨," which officially refers to married men (but in reality, it's hard to figure out whether someone is married or not, so calling people who look like they're past their late thirties is a fair game!) And using 사투리 (dialect) adds familiarity to "아저씨."

Anyway, here are some examples of 아재개그 in Korean!

Q: 미치기 싫으면 어떻게 하죠? (What to do if I don't want to go crazy?)
A: 솔을 치면 됩니다. (Hit the sol-note instead.)

Most dad jokes rely on lame puns. This is one example of it. The word "미치다" means crazy, but you could also break it up into two parts to get "미 치다," which means to hit "미." Koreans use the note names for music scales (so cdefgabc becomes do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do (도레미파솔라시도)). They're telling you that if you don't want to hit "미" then just go ahead and hit "솔."

Q: 이 바나나를 먹으면 어떻게 될까요? (What happens when you eat this banana?)
A: 저한테 반하게 됩니다. (You will fall for me.)

This is another pun. When you read out the word "바나나," it sounds exactly like the word "반하나," which means "to fall for." It's a silly play on two words sounding the same!

Q: 저한테 불만있으세요? (Do you have problems with me?)
A: 아니요, 물도 있어요 (No, I also have water.)

"불만있다" means "to have a complaint." But you can also break it up to "불만 있다," or "only have fire." Well, they're telling you that not only do they have only fire, but also they have water.

Q: 지금 제주도에요. (I'm at Jeju Island.)
A: 재주도 좋으시네요. (You're talented.)

This one is a bit of a stretch. The word "제주도" sounds like "재주도" which is "재주" + "도 (particle meaning 'also')" So when someone says that they're in Jeju Island, the dad joke is that they must be talented/lucky to be there. (In the song itself, the lyrics are: "내 맘을 흔든 너 재주도 좋아", or "lucky you, you made me fall for you.")

Well, these dad jokes, or 아재개그, make up the first part of Mamamoo's new song "아재개그." Here is the music video, which is subtitled because even the native Koreans would appreciate it!

And here are the rest of the 아재개그 that appear in the song:

Q: 잘생긴 부처님은 뭐라고 부를까요? (What do you call a handsome buddha?)
A: 부처핸섬! (Literally, buddha handsome, but it sounds like "put your hands up!")

The Korean word for "buddha" is "부처." If you were a buddhist and you wanted to talk about buddha, you would add "-님" to it to make it "부처님," to elevate buddha to a status higher than your own (this is common in all the religions in that you add "-님" to your deity. In Christianity, which was mixed with the Korean shamanism when it was first introduced, the deity's name is "하늘" or "the sky." So you call the deity "하늘님" or "하느님" which is the common usage nowadays.)

Q: 소금이 죽으면 어떻게 돼요? (What happens when salt dies?")
A: 죽염이 돼요. (It becomes bamboo salt.)
While "죽" means "bamboo" and "염" means "salt" in Chinese, this joke gives "죽" a secondary meaning of "dead," since it shares the same letter as "죽다 (to die)." Bamboo salt is made by putting regular salt in the hollow of bamboo branches, then roasting it over fire over time.

Q: 복숭아가 결혼하면 뭐게? (What happens when a peach marries?)
A: 웨딩피치. (It becomes Wedding Peach.)
"Wedding Peach" is a Japanese anime that had its heyday in Korea in the late 90s. It is similar to "Sailor Moon" -- a bunch of girls transform (into warriors in bridal dresses) to fight the evil.

Q: 만인의 파이는 뭐게? (What is the pie that everyone loves?)
A: 와이파이 (Wi-Fi.)
Since Korean alphabet doesn't distinguish between "P" and "F," the "pie" that everyone ("만인" or "ten thousand people") loves is "wi-fi."

Q: 소녀시대는 가게에서 뭘 할까요? (What does Girls' Generation do in stores?")
A: 티파니 (Tiffany/they sell t-shirts)
Girls' Generation is a popular girl group in Korea, and Tiffany is a member. "Tiffany," or "티파니" in Korean, sounds like "티 파니" or "Selling T." Koreans often just say "티" instead of "티셔츠 (t-shirts)."

Q: 소가 올라가면 어떻게 되나요? (What happens when an ox goes up?)
A: 소오름 (Goosebumps).
"소오름" is a slang for "소름" meaning "goosebumps." It can be broken up into "소 오름" or "the rise of ox."

Hopefully you enjoyed some of the Korean dad jokes -- they seem just as lame as the English ones. But then, the more lame a dad joke is, the better, right?

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Addendum: Per request, here is the translation + explanation of the interlude (where the Mamamoo members are watching the TV broadcasting more 아재개그):

치맥먹을래? 여기요! 여기요! 서울역이요!

The speaker decide that he wants to order "치맥" (치킨과 맥주, chicken and beer), so he calls the waiter over. In Korean, the standard way to signal a waiter over is to say "여기요 (here)!" But "여기요" sounds exactly like "역이요 (this is a station)," so he adds a lame dad joke, saying "서울역이요 (this is Seoul station)." So, first he notes that there are two ways to interpret the short sentence "여기요," then he adds a few words to the beginning of that sentence to clarify the meaning of the sentence, showing the readers that he chose the very minor and obscure meaning over the meaning that everyone would have guessed.

저기요, 저기요, 옛날옛적이요!

Continuing with the above theme of same sound + adding a few words to the beginning to change the meaning, this time, he begins with the phrase "저기요 (excuse me)!" But again, "저기요" sounds exactly like "적이요 (doesn't even make a ton of sense)," and adds a few words at the beginning to get "옛날옛적이요 (once upon a time)." Seriously, these guys are even worse at dad jokes than Mamamoo!

A: 여기올 때 뭐 타고 왔어? (What did you ride to get here?)
B: 가르마 타고 왔지. (I parted my hair.)
A: 나는 커피타고왔는데! (I just made a coffee from coffee mix!)

This joke is more in line with the dad jokes in Mamamoo's songs. The verb "타다" usually refers to riding cars, but its very minor usage is "가르마 타다," or "part one's hair" (Koreans have a word for the part itself; it's called "가르마.") So when one guy asks what the other guy took as transportation to get there, the guy intentionally misunderstands the meaning of "to take" to tell him that he parted his hair, as they use the same verb.

Another minor usage of "타다" is "to mix powder into liquid." In Korea, coffee mix is fairly common. Instead of fancy espresso machines, a lot of workplaces will provide you with coffee mix, and you mix the powder with the hot water to make coffee yourself. So when the guy B gives a dumb answer, the guy A gives an even dumber answer, saying "I just made coffee!"

A: 무슨 치킨 먹을래? (What kind of chicken do you want?)
B: 난 저기... 로보캅이 먹는거. (The kind that Robocop eats.)
A: 그게 뭐야? (What's that?)
B: 음~치킨, 음~치킨!

Listen to this joke, rather than just reading it! "음~치킨" definitely looks like a kind of chicken (like "양념치킨") but it also feels like a robot might make this sound when it's moving. This joke is definitely funnier than the others!

A: 엄마! 여기 무좀 주세요! 마마, 무!

This one should be pretty easy to understand. The man wants some pickled radish to go with his chicken, so he calls over the waitress (when they're not young, you sometimes call them "이모 (aunt)" or "엄마 (mother)") and asks for the radish (무). Of course, this is the same thing as "Mama, 무!" or, the name of the group "Mamamoo!"

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#45. 막장 -- That k-drama sucks as if there is no tomorrow

K-dramas, as addictive as they can be, are full of clichés. If you take a step back, the majority of the plots can be described by the same sentences. An orphaned but optimistic girl meets a rich and handsome prince. The man's family, rich and huffy, can't accept this relationship and they try their best to sabotage it. Then the man's family hires assassins to kill the girl too, because actually, the man's family was responsible for the girl's parents' deaths. But then it turns out that one of the assassins hired to kill the girl is the girl's childhood sweetheart. Now they're in a love triangle... "Ugh!" you scream. "I've had enough of this ridiculousness!"

And it turns out that he girl's mother was actually not dead. She emerges out of nowhere to curse out her boyfriend, and slaps him with some kimchi.

Yes, I get it. The Koreans get it, too. But for some reason, you can't stop watching the drama, although you'll complain about it until the drama comes to an end.

Koreans do the same thing, actually. Except that dramas of this sort are so common that they have a word for it. The Koreans would complain:

이 드라마 줄거리 정말 막장이네. (The plot of this drama is really 막장.)

Informally, when I see the word "막장," I understand it as "having gone so far with the ridiculous plot that there is no way to salvage the drama from ever being respected again.

There are two interesting theories of where this word came from, though.

The first is that this word comes from "the end of the market day." The letter "막" is a Korean prefix that means "last." For example, "막차" means "the last car (bus) schedule of the day." And "장" means "market," mostly in the traditional sense of an open outdoor market that happens every few days. At the end of these market days, the vendors, not wanting to be stuck with spoiled goods, start calling out ridiculously low prices for their goods. The prices can sink as low as they want, just like the quality of the plots of some k-dramas. This might be where the word "막장" comes from.

The second is a little bit darker. Between 1950s to 1970s, Korea was a pretty terrible place to live. The country was just starting to recover from the destruction of the Korean war (and also, the Japanese occupation has just ended some 10 years ago), and Korea was very poor, at least as poor as most of the third world countries nowadays.

During this era, coal mining was one of the biggest industries that sustained the country. Korea exported a lot of coal to the US, and most Korean homes were heated by using 연탄 (or 구공탄, because it has nine holes: "구" means "nine" and "공" means "hole"), which burned more slowly than wood, and thus more convenient (This feels like ages ago, but I still have memories of going to my grandparents' house, which was in the outskirts of Seoul, and they burned 연탄 until the mid-90s. Some places, even in Seoul, still use it!)

Pre-usage, it's black. Once it's all burned off, it turns into white ash. You could use tongs to insert into the holes, so that you could transport them easily into the fire.

Thus, the production of coal was very important. However, as we all know, mining is a very dangerous business. For one, your life expectancy as a miner was drastically decreased, not only from the bad air in the mines, but also from the fact that being in the mine itself was very dangerous. It could collapse any minute, and the smallest accidents led to catastrophic results. In particular, the deeper in the mines you worked, the more dangerous risks you ran.

The deepest of the mines were called "막장." If you were working in the "막장" of the mines, you were regarded as someone who had nothing to lose. There was almost no oxygen, and if any part of the mines collapsed, you were sure to be buried in. Although the compensation was greater, you'd have to be in a very deep financial trouble to want to volunteer to work there. To this day, in the mining villages of Korea, the word "막장" is taboo.

Nonetheless, the Koreans feel that this describes the state of some terrible k-dramas. They've degenerated so far and all respect has been lost, that they have nothing to lose by creating another ridiculous plot twist!

As for the usage, this is pretty common. Of course, because of the derogatory nature of the word, you don't want to use it in any situations that could offend anyone. But if you called a k-drama "막장,"it likely won't be much of a problem in an informal company (unless you had a die-hard fan for that drama!) Look for this word in the comments of internet news articles describing the plots of some k-dramas!

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#44. 드립 -- How to compliment a fellow internaut on a post well done

Although I'm no expert in literature, it seems to me that a lot of value is placed on novel expressions (and cliché is, for the most part, hated.) If the Koreans could figure out a way to be a little less vulgar on the internet, the Korean internet could really be a treasure trove for the aspiring writers, and the Korean internet writers would be veritable literary connoisseurs.

From the ancient times, Koreans always have placed a lot of value on humour and satire. If there was a political problem, the literate people would write a fun novel meant to satirize the situation. The common folks would put on a show that makes fun of the higher-up political people. You've probably seen the traditional Korean masks called "탈." The Korean common folks would dance with these masks on in the busy marketplace (which became an artform called "탈춤" or "masked dance") so that people would not know the identity of the brave ones that dared to criticize the powerful people. Koreans believe that by laughing about a problem together, at least there would be moral support for the difficult times that they must endure together.

A masked dance like this possibly originated from making fun of a corrupt Buddhist monk (who is supposed to remain celibate) associating with women -- even with this public display, the identity of the dancers were kept secret thanks to the mask (탈).

The tradition of humour continues to this day, and the internet users of Korea often hopes to come up with a fresh expression that makes people laugh. For example, I have previously written about someone complaining about no meat in his meal.

The opposite word of cliché is probably "ad lib," or "애드립" in Korean, which underlines spontaneity and the novelty. Koreans have shortened this word to "드립" to talk about the new expressions.

As an aside, this shortening makes a lot of sense to the Koreans; remember that most Korean names are three letters, and the first letter is the last name -- for example, "정윤호" is a name of a Korean, whose first name is "윤호" and whose last name is "정." If you wanted to be friendly with this person, you just call them by their first name "윤호." Koreans use this approach to a lot of three-letter words. If you wanted to convey the feeling of vulgarity, you often drop the first letter of a three-letter word and use the latter two letters, if the first letter does not contribute in a major way to the meaning of the word. For example, "아줌마" often gets abbreviated to "줌마" which is a lot more vulgar and familiar in style.

Anyway, "드립" in Korean now applies to an extremely wide variety of internet posts that are spontaneous and funny in nature. It could refer to an entire post that is humorous and unexpected, or it could refer to a single sentence or even just a phrase that brings humour to a situation. For example, here is a post from DC Inside (Korean Reddit) that is considered to be a pretty funny 드립:

The poster spontaneously decided to post about his lunch, as shown in his title "오늘 점심밥" (today's lunch). He then posts a picture of some fries and coke, and writes in the body: "My hamburger got stolen by some elementary school bastard while I went to the counter to get some ketchup."

"초딩" is a standard slang for "elementary school student" (and we also have the words 중딩, 고딩, 대딩, and 직딩, for middle schoolers, high schoolers, university students, and people who work.) "새끼" means a "bastard" and you can pretty much add it to any noun to express your displeasure. For example, if you don't like your teacher, you can say "선생 새끼" or if you just bumped your toe into a table, you can say "테이블 새끼." While it is considered a bad profanity in real life, in most internet communities, it is just another word. Anonymity of the internet does wonders!

"시발" is like "f-ing" and you can pretty much add it to any part of your sentence to convey to the readers that you're upset or angry about something. Any of these would be a valid and natural sentence to a native Korean (I don't understand the grammatical workings, but putting "시발" in any other place would seem unnatural; perhaps you can figure out the rules, in which case, please comment to let me know!):

시발 햄버거는 케찹가지러 카운터 간사이 어떤 초딩새끼가 훔쳐감

햄버거는 시발 케찹가지러 카운터 간사이 어떤 초딩새끼가 훔쳐감

햄버거는 케찹가지러 시발 카운터 간사이 어떤 초딩새끼가 훔쳐감

햄버거는 케찹가지러 카운터 간사이 시발 어떤 초딩새끼가 훔쳐감

햄버거는 케찹가지러 카운터 간사이 어떤 시발 초딩새끼가 훔쳐감

햄버거는 케찹가지러 카운터 간사이 어떤 초딩새끼가 시발 훔쳐감

In any case, the original poster of the above was complimented of his "드립" by the other DC Inside users, for being funny, original, and unexpected. The users might have said things like:

ㅋㅋㅋ 드립보소 (Look at the 드립 of this guy!)

or

드립 죽인다 (the 드립 is so good that it could kill)

There are many words that are born from "드립" which is more or less a root word at this point in the Korean internet, but I will have to deal with those some other time, as this post is already pretty long! However, if you ever wanted to compliment a funny post, try using the word "드립" to refer to the post!

While this word is not offensive in any way, due to the fact that slang is often used within a certain demographic group, you should only use this with your friends, or on the internet.

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#43. 종범 -- Invisible

Baseball is a huge part of the Korean sports scene. In fact, there are multiple internet communities dedicated to the discussion of baseball. The two major ones that I can think of are MLB Park (엠팍 for short in Korean) and 국내야구 갤러리 (야갤 for short in Korean) of DC Inside. In theory, the former is more concerned with the major league baseball, and the latter with the Korean league, but n reality, these distinctions don't really exist. (As an aside, if you're planning to join one of these communities as a way to practice your Korean, I recommend MLB Park, as the 야갤 users have somewhat of a shady reputation, and it is one of the rougher areas of the Korean internet geography...)

Anyway, once upon a time, there was a huge debate on MLB Park pertaining to the best shortstop of the Korean baseball league. The two candidates were 이종범 and 양준혁, both of whom are legendary players. For my own lack of baseball knowledge, I won't get into the stats and try to make my own choice. However, the one thing that I can say for sure is that 이종범 had more enthusiastic fans.

While their stats were more or less similar to each other, the fans of 이종범 asserted that he was superior to 양준혁 because "he had something more not quantifiable in numbers."

This probably makes sense to his fans, but to the outsiders, it's nothing but a laughable claim. It almost seems like the last resort before definitively losing an argument, even. So the non-fans started making fun of this claim. Now, the first name "종범" of this unfortunate baseball player (who didn't do anything wrong other than being one of the two best players of his time!) also means "invisible," or "nonexistent."

Some Koreans decided to honour this unfortunate baseball player with the following photoshopped picture.

For example, if you didn't make the honour roll this semester, your friend might make fun of you by saying:

이번 학기 우등생 명단에서 네 이름은 종범이네 (Your name seems invisible in the honour roll this semester).

Or if your favourite singer releases a new song and it never makes it into the Korean music charts, you might say:

이번 신곡은 차트에서 종범이네 (The newest song seems nonexistent in the charts.)

 The main users of this neologism are men in their teens and early twenties, so there's the usual vulgarity that gets attached to such slang. Furthermore, some Koreans think that this word originated from ilbe (which probably has the worst reputation out of all of the Korean internet communities,) so if you use it nondiscriminately, you might come under fire that you did not intend. So I would use this word with care, and only among your closest friends or in certain internet communities such as ilbe, MLB Park, and 야구갤러리. Yet I still find this word to be entertaining in the uniquely Korean way. Such usage could only be born in a tight-knit community such as Korea!

As a final fun fact, apparently 이종범 himself is aware of this usage. As far as I know, he has not made any official statements about how he feels about it, but some Koreans think that this is disrespectful to the legendary baseball player.

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#42. 김칫국 드링킹 -- Being pathetic

Of course, there are many breeds of pathetic out there. The kind of pathetic people that I want to talk about are people like 준호. 준호 happens to have a crush on a girl 아영, and from any outsider's point of view, it's painfully clear that 아영 is not interested in 준호 at all. In fact, she goes out of her way to avoid 준호, to ensure that he doesn't get any false hopes.

준호, on the other hand, is not getting any hints. He thinks that 아영 is avoiding him because he thinks that 아영 has such a crush on him; that she is avoiding him to not make a fool of herself in front of him. 준호 regularly stresses out about whether 아영 would be okay with having just two kids. He already has a list of wedding guests, although he's excluded a few of their mutual friends since 아영 is sure to invite them even if he doesn't.

If 준호 ever came around to writing down his stresses on an internet forum, the Korean internet users would probably scold him using the following phrase:

김칫국좀 그만 마셔 ㅋㅋㅋ (stop drinking kimchi soup).

Or if they're younger, they might even say:

김칫국 드링킹하냐? (Are you drinking kimchi soup?)

Or

김칫국 원샷하는것좀 보소 (Look at the dude chugging down the kimchi soup).

This phrase actually has a very long history. And it features two everyday Korean food items beloved by the Koreans (but these don't seem very well-known or very loved by the non-Koreans.) These food items are 동치미 and 떡. Have you heard of these?

동치미 is a kind of 김치, but it might be different from the standard 김치 that you think of. There are some major differences between the two.

Despite the appearance, this is still a type of 김치.

동치미 doesn't use red pepper flakes (고춧가루). Since the redness of 김치 comes from the red pepper flakes, 동치미 is not red. The main ingredient of 동치미 is not the Korean cabbage (배추), but Korean radishes (무). Finally, 동치미 comes with a lot more soup than the regular 김치 (when you make it, a lot more water goes into it, so 동치미 has an appearance of being a watery soup, rather than 김치 looking like a vegetable.) It is still served cold.

My favourite part of 동치미 was always the soup. I was never really interested in the vegetables inside, but the soup is absolutely fantastic. It's cold, it's very light and flavourful, and when you're eating something greasy or heavy, you start craving a sip of the ice-cold 동치미 국물 (동치미 soup.)

One food that 동치미 pairs very well with is, of course, 떡 (rice cakes.) In my opinion, it pairs especially well with the type of 떡 called 백설기, which is just steamed rice flour. 백설기 is pretty boring as far as 떡 goes, and you can find other kinds of 떡 that is a lot more interesting and delicious. I especially dislike the relatively dry texture, since it crumbles, and it doesn't feel so different from eating a 고구마.

"백" means "white," and "설" means "snow" in Chinese. "백설기" got its name because rice flour looks like snow.

So when you eat food such as 백설기 (or 고구마, but that's irrelevant for this post), it's good to have some 동치미 국물 at hand. If you've never tried this food pairing, you should try it -- it's a classic Korean food pairing!

And so our ancestors started using a proverb (속담 in Korean) that goes:

떡 줄 사람은 생각도 않는데 김칫국부터 마신다.

 If someone says this to you, it translates to: "Drinking 김치 soup when the person holding the 떡 isn't even thinking of sharing with you." That is, you're expecting that you will be given 떡, and you've already set the table with some 동치미 soup, while the person with the 떡 has no intention of sharing. Awkward!

And this phrase applies perfectly to 준호, since he's setting the table with the proverbial 동치미 soup of wedding plans and planning for children, while 아영 doesn't even have any intention of dating 준호.

But Korea is a country of trends. While the above phrase is known to all Koreans, only the very elderly like my grandparents would use the full phrase. It often gets shortened to

김칫국 마시네 (you're drinking kimchi soup)

suppressing the mention of 떡. This phrase is probably the most common among the Koreans (even the elder people) without getting internet-vulgar.

The younger people of Korea are even more trendy, and they popularized this phrase by adding some humour into it. Instead of just saying "마시다" (to drink) which is standard Korean, they replaced it with the English word "드링킹" (literally, "drinking") to make it sound a little more vulgar and a little funnier. Remember that when a Korean word gets combined with an English word that has an easy Korean substitute, the result is often vulgar yet funny (이불킥 is another example.)

If you tell 준호 over the internet:

김칫국 드링킹 하냐? (Are you drinking kimchi soup?)

Then you've succeeded in using a trendy phrase, and you've possibly set yourself up for a little skirmish over the internet!

Of course, there are other vulgar substitutes for "마시다" such as "원샷때리다 (chug down in one gulp)" and that would achieve the same effect. In that case, you would say "김칫국 원샷하냐?" or "김칫국 원샷때리냐?"

Despite the long history of this phrase, I would use the neologisms only to close friends or over the internet, since the phrase itself already has an element of derision in it. But if you wanted to use it in the proverbial sense in the right context, you should be able to use it with everyone, with a little bit of tact!

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