Below my hotel window on Yongsan army base, cabbies salute the dusk with glowing cigarettes. Their mismatched plaids make them perfect extras for a Caddyshack remake; not at all far-fetched in this golf crazed country. Above, Namsan Hill fills a quarter of the horizon, and Seoul Tower looks like a space age, aqua-blue flag stick on the back of a monstrous, terraced green. It’s a rare night without smog, so I walk the course.
A few months prior to the 2008 election my friend The Destroyer of Colons asked me, “When Bush is gone, who are liberals going to hate?” He was only half joking. “Not to worry,” I assured him with a smile, “liberals can always find someone to designate as an object of their hatred.”