Chapter 269

Up at 6:30, to go to work on this Sunday, day of the Lord. I walked the animals and then took my sweet time to get ready, thinking I can arrive at school at 8 instead of several minutes ahead because I don’t have first period. But then I remembered that the schedule changed, and hauled ass to arrive in time. At the bicycle and scooter parking, I ran into the English teacher I switched classes with, and she said she in fact wants to teach first period, because she has errands to run after. Perfect. So I could start my day slowly.

I walked into the office and was welcomed by the crisp cold air coming out of the AC units, in contrast to the maple syrupy thick humid summer atmosphere still overstaying its welcome in late September. Despite the giant, almost passive-aggressive CLOSE THE DOOR sign made of four A4 sheets stuck together, the doors were wide open, as always. Aren’t the people I share my office with chemistry teachers?! Aren’t they familiar with the concept of energy transfer? Or hell, in what IQ percentile do you have to be to not know that an open door defeats the purpose of air conditioning? I didn’t say anything, I know better than that.

I had a class with twelfth-graders, one desk was empty.

“Where is [her name]?”

“She’s absent”, her neighbor replied.

The Chinese constantly say the most Captain Obvious of things. Like “What are you drinking?” “A beverage” or “What are you playing?” “Cards”, I wonder where it all comes from, whether they’re trolling me or it’s their lack of proper socialization. Or maybe they don’t have this typically American habit of making small talk, I know some Northern European cultures also find that weird and prefer to wallow in awkward misanthropic silence. The newer generations will spend less time in school and are more likely to have siblings, maybe they will develop into better conversationalists.

I then had a lab, and the principal observed me. It went really well, it was the sixth time in two weeks I went through the same content. Boom.

I had shrimp noodles (no mushrooms) for lunch and watched some YouTube videos that I had already queued, knowing that the front page would be loaded with spoilers from the ongoing UFC event. I watched an analysis of the trial of evil white supremacist Kyle Rittenhouse, the 17-year-old who killed some left-wing protestors in self-defense at one of those riots last year. Then I headed back to work and taught Crazy Class. One girl had a little stuffed chicken on her desk, in fact the number of Teddy bears and other fluffy animals in the classrooms is quite alarmingly high, for 17- and 18-year-olds. Some are kept as pillows for when they nap at their desk, but many are just kept around like what very small kids tend to do. I just shrug now when I see a twelfth-grader carrying her Teddy bear around. Anyway, back to the chicken, one of the boys in the back said “Teacher! Teacher! Look! It’s a little-chicken-chicken!” which is a Chinglish translation of a slang word for male genitals. I gave him a look that non-verbally said “Oh, you!” The lesson itself went okay I guess, but I was also wondering why they’re in an advanced chemistry class instead of, I don’t know, elsewhere doing something more aligned with their aptitudes and interests. Oh, one-size-fits-all education.

I went home and watched the UFC prelims. MMA’s nerdiest fighter Roxanne Modafferi broke the record for the most professional fights by a female athlete and lost to a stoic and sinewy Brazilian. Philadelphia cop Chris Daukaus hit Dagestani brute Shamil Abdurakhimov so hard, half a pint of thick white spit flew off his mouth. Dan Hooker went through insane hoops to leave New Zealand (and he’ll have to do a lengthy quarantine when he flies back to his remote island) but made the most of it by dominating Nasrat Haqparast, an Afghan-German prospect who trains with GSP. And then the bantamweight clash between Marlon Moraes and Merab Dvalishvili was pure insanity, the kind of fight that makes you wonder why the hell people watch hockey or basketball or whatever other boring-ass sport rather than MMA. The Georgian almost got knocked out by the Ninja-Turtle-muscular Brazilian and was on rollerskates, trying not to die, but then he turned it around with his wrestling and went full Donkey Kong. In the second round he dominated, throwing over 100 unanswered strikes on the ground, on the way to a TKO. What do they put in the water in Georgia?! 135 pounds is the best UFC division by far now, so many bonerific match-ups to make, imagine if Triple C was still around.

Then I went to the gym and did deadlifts and other pulls. I alphamaled a middle-aged woman by warming up with her max, knowing that the sneering unit of a personal trainer with a mullet could probably do the same with my 315-pound one-rep max. At some point I went to get my water bottle at the same time a guy put his phone on the table, and like the nosy bastard I am, I peeked at the screen. Through his Bluetooth wireless headphones, he was listening to a podcast with the title 美国内战 (USA inner war). The screen went black before I could read more, but it got me wondering: I listen to Clown World news and other analysis of the gangrenous, dying western culture all the time, there must be a lot of Chinese people who are also interested in that topic. My Chinese level is hovering just below the level I’d need to fully understand and enjoy such content, but I’m very curious to see what would an informed and astute observer would say about all the so-called woke shit, civil unrest, pandering by celebrities, ethnomasochism, degeneracy and self-destructive tendencies. He would either be utterly confused or rubbing his hands in excitement.

I went back home and the girlfriend was doing calligraphy.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at your pole-dancing class?”

“I have to do this stupid homework by tomorrow”

I knew her Confucian bully of a boss constantly gives her extra tasks to do, but I had no idea she’s also forced to do calligraphy. I thought she was doing it for fun. Hmmm, maybe the West is crumbling, but I’m still glad I wasn’t born Chinese.

She took won tons from the freezer and boiled them, and I cooked some chunks of beef in a teriyaki sauce. I watched the main card of the UFC event. Jessica “Smasher Of Worlds” Andrade beat the hell out of Cynthia Calvillo, Andrade is one of my favorite fighters, I don’t want to sound sexist but she fights like a man, and no matter how athletic her opponents are, they seem flabbergasted at how hard she hits, not unlike fellow Brazilian lesbian goddess of violence Amanda Nunes. Now she is in a weird position, being clearly too good for every 125-pound woman but having been decimated by the champion already. I her post-fight interview, she recognized that, and said she wants to go back to 115 pounds and fight Rose Namajunas or Zhang Weili. I’m sure they’re thrilled at the idea of possibly having to face that berserker again, yeah they’ve beaten her but it’s not as if they were not in grave danger.

The heavyweight matchup between Blaydes and Rozenstruik was a boring one, as the American wrestler controlled and blanketed the Surinamese kickboxer. And then it was the return of Nick Fucking Diaz, cult heroes among cult heroes. It was his first fight in eight years or something crazy like that, I thought he’d never come back, and as much as I and any fan who was watching the sport back when he was slapping fools left and right were saddened about it, it was also for the best, as he and his brother Nate often went on record saying how much they hate fighting and especially the whole media circus around it. His opponent was Robbie Lawler, whom they also dusted off for this old man fight, a rematch seventeen years in the making! The fight was very weird, with Diaz opening with the clumsiest of spinning kicks, he who usually shuns anything but boxing and jiu-jitsu. He had a dadbod, in contrast to his usual thin and long frame, and though his unorthodox pitter-patter boxing attack was surprisingly on point, he was slow and would frequently disengage rather than pressure his foe until breaking point like he used to do. The biggest surprise was how he just quit in the second round after getting knocked down, instead of showing the Diaz almost inhuman toughness and grit. Still, all things considered, he didn’t look that bad, and probably made a ton of money. It’s a young man sport and time has passed him by like it does for every combat sport athlete.