Monday, July 3, 2017

#55. 등골브레이커 -- Making your parents pay?

As a student in Korea, I wanted to fit in. This is a lot more important than being a student in North America, because belonging to a group is valued so much in Korea. For example, Koreans often quote the proverb "모난 돌이 정 맞는다," or "stones that stick out get the chisel."

Thinking back to my time as a student in Korea, I felt as if I existed to fit into a group. I really did everything that I could to not stick out. In my juvenile mind, the easiest thing to do was to do what the others were doing. If everyone in my group got a particular pen and raved about it, then I would get it too, even though it was way over my allowance budget. If everyone wanted to go eat 떡볶이 (spicy rice cakes), then I would go too, even though I hated spicy food (and still do!)

Nowadays, I hear that things are a bit tougher in the Korean schools.

The "it" items are supposedly no longer a fancy pen, or heading off to a street food stall to eat 떡볶이. The popular kids at school now wear expensive coats (North Face was the popular brand a few years ago; Canada Goose had its fifteen minutes of spotlight, and so on.) They wear designer shoes, and carry fancy backpacks. And everyone else wants to do the same to fit in.

This photo was taken at a graduation ceremony of a middle school, back when North Face was the brand to be wearing. Could you stand to not wear one of these, and risk sticking out?

But of course, buying an expensive coat that costs $500-1000 USD is not within their allowance budget at all. The only way for the students to get it is to beg their parents until they give in. And even then, it's not a trivial sum of money that the parents can just cough out. It probably stressed them out, and some parents probably spent the money that they couldn't afford.

From this, the internet users started calling these students "등골 브레이커."

The word "등골" comes from "등의 골짜기," or "the valley in your back." It refers to the fact that your back where the spine lies underneath looks like a valley.

And the word "브레이커" comes from the English word "breaker."

Putting them together, the internet users are mocking these students for breaking the spines (of their parents), because their parents probably had to do some rough work to be able to afford these coats. In the Koreans' collective mind, the rough work is often working for a construction site, carrying heavy load in their backs (somehow, that seems like the hardest work that you can do!) and severely damaging their backs.

There are many other instances of "등골브레이커" other than these young 급식충, though!

Many parents pay the college tuition of their children; some young adults have to take their college entrance test multiple times in order to get into good universities, and their parents usually pay for the cost associated to taking the test again (these students often enroll themselves in a private academy or 학원 in Korean to study); some children want their video games which are expensive; and some people expect their parents to help them out when they get married, often into the six figures in USD. You get the idea.

Remember that Korean values are based on Confucianism, which stresses filial piety (효도 -- this is such a common word in Korean that I am always shocked that there does not exist an equivalent common word in English!) So the act of being a 등골브레이커 is particularly terrible in Korea.

So although this word is probably less than a decade old, it has struck a chord with all Koreans. This word is used widely in the media, as well as by the Koreans of all ages. Also notice that the word is made up of an English word and a Korean word, so this combination, as usual (see an example), gives some humour into the word as well, which sits well with the Koreans. As long as you don't use this word in a formal report, most Koreans would understand (and probably agree) with you, if you use it in appropriate places!

Sunday, July 2, 2017

#54. 성지순례 -- Making an internet pilgrimage

Back when religion occupied a larger part of our lives, many people dreamed of journeys of the spiritual sort, where they travel to the religiously significant places, be it Mecca, Vatican, or Temple Mount. They travel not only to quench their curiosity about the important place where their religion flourished, but they probably thought that their gods were more present in these holy places. I can easily imagine them having a small personal prayer in the hopes that their gods will be more attentive in their mecca.

Mecca

If you think about it, though, it is increasingly becoming the case that the most important aspect of our lives is no longer religion, but rather items of convenience, such as the internet. So, doesn't it make sense that we should try to take our own pilgrimages, and find what is the most sacred and holy in the realm of the internet?

Well, I can tell you that the Koreans have already started. While the word "성지순례" means pilgrimage ("성지" means "holy site" -- "성" is "holy" as in "성서 (bible)," "성인 (saint)", and "지" means "place" as in "지구 (earth)"), it is now also used as a slang term for particularly notable posts on the Korean internet. And you can take your cyber-journey to these sacred places and even make a wish!

What do I mean by notable posts? There are a few different possibilities.

First, this blog is dedicated to the Korean internet slang. They get created somewhere, and in the case where the origin is clear, the posts that created the particular slang can be the 성지 of the internet.

Secondly, and more commonly, there are posts on the internet that predict the future. Often, these posts predict the upcoming celebrity scandals (there will soon be an article on how so-and-so is dating so-and-so). While people rarely believe these things when it first gets posted, sometimes they really do prove to be true!

Thirdly, some keyboard battles are so epic that they get preserved as a 성지. Of course, these are pretty vulgar and it's maybe not the kind of 성지 that you want to visit!

It is quite fun to try to find and visit some of these places. You see the marks of the other pilgrims in the form of 댓글 (comments), like this holy site here.

In the 수능 subreddit of DC Inside (remember that 수능 is the most important test of the life of any Korean!), one user posted the following a few days before the actual test. She asks in the title, "In the written section of the math part of 수능, how many times does 0 appear as an answer?" She then writes in the body that she will "guess 0 for all of them."

Just as a background, while most questions are multiple-choice, there are some questions where the test-takers are required to write in the answer (but not how you arrived at the answer).

Amazingly, in this particular year's 수능, all of the answers in the math section were actually 0. Goosebumps, anyone?

 And so this post became a holy site. Even to this day, many internet users flock to this particular post to share their wishes. Here are some of the wishes that the Korean internet users left in the comments:





 Many of them wish for a high score in the 수능 exam (1등급 is the highest), because really, if the god of 수능 existed, that god must live here. But you occasionally also see other wishes such as "please let my crush like me back."

Here is the actual link to the 성지. Make a wish yourself, if you believe in the god of the internet!

While the word "성지 (holy site)" or "성지순례 (pilgrimage)" are clearly Korean internet slang in this context, it has caught on, and media has been seen reporting using this word in the context of slang. If an opportunity arises in real life, you can try using it without offending anyone!

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Listening exercise with transcript #9: Gag Concert, continued

Following last week's listening exercise, I thought I'd post another related clip, which is shorter and easier to understand, that comes from the same "코너" of the comedy show "개그 콘서트." Unfortunately, the video is a little bit out of sync.

Without giving any hints away, I challenge you to listen to the following very short clip and see how much you can understand. Transcript and explanation follows the video, as usual. I have even done a full translation this week!




MC: 여러분, 안녕하십니까? "달인을만나다" 의 류담입니다.
오늘 이 시간에는 세상의 황폐함에 분노를 느끼시고 이 세상의 모든 소리와 안녕을 고하며 스스로의 마음을 정화시키기 위해 무려 16년째 단 한 마디도 하지 않고 묵언 수행을 하며 살아 오신 "음소거 김병만선생님" 모셨습니다. 아, 선생님, 그... 이 현대사회에서 이... 말을 안하고 산다는게 굉장히 어려운 일인데 말이죠. 정말로대단하십니다. 네, 아무튼 반갑습니다.

Guest: 네, 반갑습니다.

The format of the skit is very similar to the one covered in the previous week. This week, the guest is "음소거 김병만." The word "음소거" means "mute" -- you press the 음소거 button of your remote control to mute your TV. So this week's expert is Byung Man "the mute" Kim. As always, he's a fake, and both him and his top apprentice are swatted away by the MC.

This week, I'll provide a translation of what the MC says, because even though he says little, what he does say is fairly eloquent and high-level Korean. (Some orders of words are changed around to make sense in English!)

MC: Hello, everyone? This is "Dam Ryu" of "Meeting the Expert."
Today at this hour, we have as our guest "Byung Man 'the Mute' Kim," the man who resents the barrenness of the world. As a result, he took his leave from all sound in this world in order to purify his mind, and he spent 16 years committed to silence. Ah, sir, it is very difficult not to say anything in this modern society. I have such respect for you. It is a pleasure to meet you.

Guest: Yes, it's a pleasure.

Friday, June 30, 2017

#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.

Thursday, June 29, 2017

#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.)


Wednesday, June 28, 2017

#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.

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

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!

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

#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