For those who have forgotten, forcefully or otherwise, I have maintained a steady obsession academic interest in Korean girl groups. Specifically, the phalanx of Asian goddesses known as “Girl’s Generation.” They should need no introduction, but since you’re all regular Americans with responsible, normal lives, I’ll do you the favor of debriefing you.

Girl’s Generation is composed of nine Korean pop-stars who are all in love with me (probably). Like iPods and Hitler, they’re a legitimate global phenomenon. In Korea, they’ve notched a bunch of number one singles and a ton of awards. Once they reached the top of the Korean pop-mountain, they set their eyes on other markets. North Korea didn’t look too promising, so they hopped the Pacific to Japan, where the competition didn’t look too challenging. In under a year, they were the most sucessful foreign act in Japan ever. On top of that, they’ve played back-to-back sold out concerts in Paris, booked a few other sold-out shows in places like Singapore and Australia, and then decided to show their pussy Korean successors how it’s done by returning to Korea and immediately taking the number 1 spot.

But here’s the twist…they’re moving in on America.

When one first hears “Koreans invade America,” their first reaction is to run for the bomb-shelters and start learning how to pronounce “Emperor Kim Jong-Il.” Thankfully, this invasion is far less nefarious and far more sexy. Their third album (titled “The Boys,” after all the men that will lose out to me) will get an English release. It’s a ballsy move, considering only two members speak english, and the language doesn’t seem to be agreeing with the others. Also, there isn’t a strong precedent for Asian pop-stars in America. The only person who comes to mind is William Hung, and…well, you get it. Not to mention the whole girl band thing died when the Spice Girls shed their human skins and returned to the netherworld. The odds are not only stacked against them, they’re stacked in impenetrable towers equipped with flood lights and snipers.

So the question is, can Americans not be racist for once in their history?

There are a few reasons they actually stand a good chance.

Ever since “Glee,” America has been shamelessly addicted to attractive people singing and dancing synchronously. Despite the “Glee” movie tanking like a flaming vessel in the middle of the Pacific, that show has still struck a nerve in the part of America’s spine that really loves when people dress in color-coordinated outfits and do backflips. That’s why the pop-industry births atrocities like this. The ghost of N’SYNC still haunts our radio waves like a husband’s murdered ex-wife still haunts his orgies. No matter how hard we work to convince other people that we really like Radiohead, our iTunes won’t hide that “Backstreet’s Back” is our most played song. The other reason they could succeed: they’re super hot. Americans choose popularity first and foremost based on looks. Don’t believe me? Watch any interview with Rhianna. She interacts with other people the same way potted plants do. Yet, she is a multi-national pop star. Why? Because she’s gorgeous. Everyone conveniently looks past her cyborg emoting because her curves are proportional. This means our Korean pop-stars won’t be immediately put on a plane back across the Atlantic. There will be enough long legs and lustrous hair to keep them around for a radio hit or two.

But we’re getting away from the point. They need to stick around so that I can have a chance at proposing to one of them.

Don’t worry, I’ve done all the research I need to. Upon realizing an english album means they’d be spending considerable time in America, I started practicing how to bargain dowries in Korean. I can now fluently offer three cattle. I’ve started perfecting my Korean look, which, my original article explained, involves being really pale and thin and having a really small face. I’ve already nailed the first two traits, but just about every plastic surgeon I’ve visited has told me that “chin shortening” isn’t a legitimate surgery. They’ve also told me I should shave, but who the fuck do they think they are. Girls like a rough face. They can use it to file their nails or clean pots. The beard will help convince their parents that I work as a lumberjack when I’m actually an unemployed screenwriter. I’ve memorized all of their songs and dance moves, hoping to perform a sort of mating ritual when I finally encounter them. That’s how Korean propose to each other, right? I’m not totally sure about how their culture works. The last time I tried ordering Korean food, I was given directions to a local dog pound.

Will I succeed with my plight to claim a Korean pop star for a wife? Probably not. The best shot I have is creating something with major, cultural resonance that catapults me into the stratosphere of celebrity. Will I ever come close? Oh wait, I HAVE. It’s this show called “Classless,” and it’s amazing. Check it out (and pass it along to any Korean pop-stars you may know).