Answer: Probably the same place the white community’s collective guilt was.

Backstory: On the Ed Norris show today, a caller called in and remarked on the collective guilt the Korean-American community feels over the VTech massacre. Then the caller inquired as to where the black collective guilt was since the “Beltway snipers” in 2002 turned out to be black.

Don’t you think it’s telling this caller didn’t remark on, say, the collective guilt of the white or Polish communities after Joe Palczynski’s murder spree? I do.

There’s an interesting article in The Guardian Unlimited about the collective guilt felt by Koreans:

The reaction to the Virginia Tech massacre in the nation where the shooter was born has been an outpouring of sympathy mixed with feelings of shame. There are also concerns that going too far in apologizing would make it appear South Korea is unjustifiably taking some blame for the killings.

Expressions of regret have ranged from candlelight vigils and religious services to online tributes. South Korea’s ambassador to the U.S. proposed the idea of Koreans living in America taking turns in a 32-day fast to honor each of the victims.

President Roh Moo-hyan has expressed condolences four times - the first before it even emerged the culprit was a South Korean immigrant, followed by words of sympathy to the American people and to President Bush.

“This is a sensitive time,” the leading Chosun Ilbo daily cautioned in an editorial. “We must ensure that our true intentions, to share the sorrow, can travel across the ocean and reach the hearts of grieving Americans.”

Seung-Hui Cho left South Korea as a boy and lived in the United States for more than 14 years, where he apparently grew into a deeply troubled young man whose murderous spree was facilitated by easy access to guns.

Much of the reaction to Cho’s nationality in his native land is colored by South Korea’s keen awareness of its national image. South Korea is obsessed with how it is perceived by the outside world, and its group-oriented culture means the achievements of the few are marshaled into rallying cries for the many.

“Koreans think very much in terms of national identity rather than individual identity,” said Michael Breen, author of the book “The Koreans: Who They Are, What They Want, Where Their Future Lies.”

South Koreans are quick to take group credit even from afar. The most notable recent example is Pittsburgh Steelers’ wide receiver Hines Ward, the offspring of an African-American father and Korean mother, who was feted as a national hero after he was named Most Valuable Player in the 2006 Super Bowl - even though he and American football were virtually unknown here before.

But collective guilt is a Korean concept, not an American one. First and second generation Korean immigrants to America still feel that pull, but those of Korean descent who have been here longer don’t. The Baltimore Sun elaborates:

Kyeyoung Park, an associate professor of anthropology at the University of California Los Angeles and member at the university’s Center for Korean Studies, said that because Korean culture tends to be homogeneous, new immigrants rely on one another emotionally.

“In Western culture there is an emphasis on guilt; in many Eastern cultures the emphasis is on shame,” she said. “I think Korean-Americans want to do something because they feel ashamed. Some of them feel truly responsible, even though it is ridiculous to think they are responsible for the action of this person.”

Park said some first-generation immigrants identified with the comments of South Korean Ambassador Lee Tae-sik, who said not only do Korean-Americans feel ashamed but called for them to “repent.” He suggested a 32-day fast - one day for each victim of Monday’s carnage.

But Hong, with the Mirae Foundation, said many second- and third-generation immigrants reject that sense of culpability. Hong, who said he attended the Fairfax vigil in which Lee made the comments, was outraged by the remarks.

So, that, Anonymous Caller to the Ed Norris show, is where the black community’s collective guilt was when Malvo decided to kill a bunch of people who’d never done anything to him. It wasn’t anywhere, because it doesn’t exist. And the reason it doesn’t exist is the same reason there was no white collective guilt when Palcyznski decided to go kill a bunch of people who’d never done anything to him. It isn’t there because it isn’t a black concept, or a white concept - it’s a culture concept, and our culture rejects group guilt.

Saturday was a good — no, great — day to work. A lot of big orders and generous tippers.

But of course, not everyone can be a generous tipper, or even a good tipper, or even a moderately-okay tipper. No, this person — bitch, really — could barely tip a buck, and, gosh, apparently had no flatware to eat her salad with.

This she says to me with a straight face even though we’re at her house. What, she doesn’t have a dammed fork? Somehow, I doubt it.

I know why she didn’t have a fork. The manager Saturday morning thought to himself, “Oh, of course she’s got flatware, so by not packing a cheap plastic fork, I’ll be saving boss-man a whole nickel.” Really, it’s one of those things where I really wished he’d've checked with me first, because it wasn’t going to be his ass running back to this woman’s house with her damn stupid plastic fucking fork. And this wasn’t a short delivery — eff no, this was eight miles one way. In other words, a whole damn gallon of gas wasted making two fucking trips to her house.

And, did I mention she tipped a dollar and made it seem like she was passing a kidney stone to do so? Nevermind her big house, multiple cars and trucks and SUVs and the boat on the trailer or the pool in the backyard.

It all worked out — I got a few bucks from the store for going back up a second time, she certainly didn’t give me any financial reward for going back up to her a second time.

I can’t complain - did I mention Saturday was a great day? I wish I had more like them. Because despite “I Need My Stupid Fucking Plastic Fork” lady, tips were really so far beyond great I don’t have the words for it.