Another Year

I just turned 29. While frolickers in the US were wishing their neighbor a "Happy Flag Day!", I was celebrating the culmination of my 29th year with a heartbeat. And to be honest, I couldn't be happier with the number. I remember last year I was completely bored, slightly irked and wholly unmoved by the fact that 28 was not only a sleek-looking, totally even number, but seemingly divisible by almost fricken anything - the "popular slut" of Integer High.

But 29 isn't as presumptuous or in your face. It's the Untouchable at the edge of the 20s. And not only is it prime, but also the sum of its integers (2+9 = 11), and the sum of that sum's integers (1+1 = 2)...So in otherwords, if math don't lie, at least this year will be interesting if not awesome. Or at least, mathematically sound.

And the biggest thing that's changed so far (for me) is, I've quit smoking. After 13 years of inhaling the delicious tar stick, I'm flushing it for good. And now I'm 3 weeks completely smoke free - 6 in total if you forgive me those rare nights when social smoking was inevitable. (i.e. Old friends, tequila shots and trash talking at a locals Texas Hold-Em tournament in some dark suburb of western Australia.)

Either way, I don't crave it anymore. I've been exercising more, eating healthier food, trying to maintain a more wholesome approach to mental and physical health...and I still feel like shit.

Okay, this whole thing about how if you quit smoking your sense of smell will return - first off, Tokyo is NOT a place you WANT to smell. The body doesn't ever adjust to the onslaught of odors most foul - a waft of street sewage on a warm day, the old-man piss stench of an evening train, the burnt fish skins lingering in the night air. Oh, how many times do I catch myself yearning for that one time in 8th grade when I lost my sense of smell for a week!

Also, everything tastes different now! And not like better-different, just different-different. That means, my favorite take-out curry now tastes like apple (WTF?!), delicious sauces are too sweet for me, and I can now tell the difference between crap and qual beer. Not the best way to keep an evening economical, and a major affront to what I'm used to. Just because I gave up smoking does not mean I'm ready to give up BBQ sauce and cheap malt liquor.

I don't want to smoke anymore, because it just makes me feel like shit. I hate the morning after ashtray mouth and the sore throats and even now the smell is off-putting. It's bad for me and I know it, and I'm happy to say that now I am a non-smoker.

But I'm not going to join the legions of anti-smoking maniacs out there who knock at as the most evil weed to ever take seed in damp soil. You can't deny it, it's a damn delicious high, a super fine mood relaxer, and let's be honest, it makes you look REALLY cool. (Not the cancerous legions or the tube in the neck of course, I'm talking the simple act of smoking.) I'm not going to condone it, but I'm also not going to knock it. I've done my time, but now I'm glad to be free. Now here's hoping I can find a healthier way to get rid of this sense of smell.

M

The Wa of Impermanence

DISCLAIMER: This rant was by no means Lent-inspired, though I did see the obvious connection after-the-fact. And my opinion remains as is.

So this morning brought with it oodles of April showers - something of a kick in the ass for anyone who thought spring was here to stay - and out comes the jacket that I thought could remain stowed away until next winter.

The commute was nothing new: a bunch of old men in cheap, over-worn business suits, with one horribly unclean monster of a guy right next to me who really should go see a skin doctor. Thank God I didn't go out drinking last night, because I don't think I could have stomached the muggy air of a crowded train, combined with a smell that could only be described as Deviled Ham. Great between two slices of Wonder bread; not so great when its emmanating from the pores of another human.

Which means I've got to concentrate on other things dare I go Hulk on everyone and start punching people in the head. So I'm replaying the 90's mix I was listening to this morning, pondering the old riddle that Kris Kross unleashed on us many a year ago, to discern the difference between a "mac dad" and a "daddy mac". (How come Weird Al never parodied that with the Big Mac?)

Anyways, I'm staring through the wet train doors at the passing symbiosis of nature and concrete, my eye catching the occasional cherry blossom tree that is still going strong holding on to those few precious petals. Surely this rain storm is going to strip them dry, bringing another swift end to the "cherry blossom viewing" season in Japan...

...and I became very upset with the whole idea of Impermanence, and how the Japanese find beauty and bittersweet appreciation for the fleeting things in life. It's like when my neighborhood supermarket started stocking this one particular brand of salt-flavored, ruffled potato chips that tasted just like Ruffles, and they were always on the verge of selling out because everyone loved them - (and there was a NEED for ruffled potato chips in this country) - and then the company stopped manufacturing them.

Or it's like how the local foreign food deli used to sell this super delicious roast beef sandwich, but would only stock one every few days, and so you'd never be the one to score it...despite the fish salads piling up because seriously, who goes to a foreign food deli to buy a fish salad?!

Or the lack of Nintendo Wiis in every store in Japan, despite a mad public frenzy to get their hands on one. (I ahve mine, and Zelda rocks...but, different rant, different day...) Okay, so I'm venturing more into the Japanese inability to understand supply and demand (or maybe Economics is simply over my head), but there seems to be this trend (in Japan and everywhere!) to intentionally deny one's self and others the things that make life interesting, adventurous and/or pleasurable; to purposefully make unavailable and/or off-limits what could very well bring a little bit of color to an otherwise rainy day (both with and without the metaphor). It's when governments ban things, or when societies denounce something as immoral. Or (dare I "go there") when religions declare something trivial as an affront to God! Forgive the Inter-netiquette, but WTF!? I mean, I'm against murder, child abuse, theft, and all that shit as much as the next guy...but PORK?!

Sure, there's that age old thought-process that you are only truly able to respect something when you don't take it for granted, when instances in your life are few and far between. Or that you can only appreciate the true value of something when you deny yourself it.

But seriously, people...to bring this all back to my original point, don't you see that the truest representation of Impermanence in this world manifests itself in a little something we call Death?! That's the last thing we should be trying to emulate during those days when, you know, we're alive! If anything we should be indulging in what makes us smile while we are able to do so. By all means, say grace, give thanks and be grateful for what you've got, but don't think that the man upstairs wants us to go out of our way to try and feel miserable! Scientific proof aside I can almost surely guarantee that at your Valhalla welcome party they're gonna serve absinthe and veal. Even if it is a Friday.

So, the cherry blossoms petals are falling; that's sad. But it also pisses me off that people accept its fleeting-ness. Here's my battle cry to all bored inventors and mad geneticists out there: Gene splice the shit out of a sakura seed so'z they don't flake off their petals at the mere emphysematous exhale of a dying ladybug. (How's that for a metaphor!?) And while I'm on my soap box, keep those Water Parks open longer, dammit! It's 40 degrees (Celcius) outside even on June 14th; people want to get wet!

Shit, doesn't it irk you somewhat that we can engineer ballpoint pens that simultaneously write upside-down in a dozen different glittered colors, but we can't create a steadfast cherry blossom tree?

(sigh)

And even on the other side of the coin...those Seven Deadly Sins? Keep in mind that not even moderation comes into play when you're dead.

Booyah!
M

Life of Pi

For all those who like math and arbitrary reasons to celebrate, Happy Pi Day (March 14th).
3.14159265358979323846

And wicked props to my mother, who reminded me!

M

Afternoon Vignettes

I'm 28 years old going on 29, and not 24 hours ago it hit me - the US state of Connecticut is spelled with 3 "C"s. What the shit? Okay, I've seen it written down before, and I can tell that there's something aesthetically wrong with the phonetic "Conneticut", but just yesterday my eye was drawn to the middle "c" and it positively floored me. I feel like something of a gimp, because I seriously had no idea that a "c" could remain so silent and go so unnoticed, for so long.

Tis the season for local parliament elections! Every morning I park my bike in one of the lots up on the Hill, and as I walk to the train station I am greeted by the myriad politicians, standing upright and true, the model of the party's colorguard. They wave me off to work and bow to passers-by, or stand on soap boxes (soy sauce container boxes) and talk about "the issues" on their trusted megaphone. It's nothing new - the grassroots campaign trail right here in my small burb. But more vocal than most is the extremely nice lady that stands outside the train station every morning wishing everybody a nice day and a safe trip to-and-from work. She's got this little round face with thick-rimmed glasses - kind of like what you'd imagine a grandma leprechaun to look like were she Japanese. And you can't help but smile when she bows to everyone (myself included) as we enter. She's that little bit of fresh air before the onslaught of hell that is the morning train. And it turns out she's a part of Japan's Communist Party. Go figure.

I'm not high right now, but the Mobius strip just blew my mind. With one simple flick of the wrist, even a toddler can phuck with physics. How numbing is that?

Cheers,
M

Morning Hell

It is completely and utterly unbelievable that this goes on every single day in Japan. The morning trains, crowded like NOTHING EVER SEEN before in any developed country! Sure, riding the bus in Jakarta was a trip, but I'd take that ANY day over these fucking trains!

Fuck JR! They just sit back and let people pile into these train cars without any regard for safety or even the slightest degree of passenger comfort. To them, it's just extra sweet money juice lining the liver-spotted colons of the fatcat Japanese executive bureaucrat.

Article on Japanes Trains from the Metropolis

Operating at 260% capacity!! The people of Japan need to start stepping up and putting the JR Corporation in its place. The peopl of Japan don't need to stand for this shit - this blatant disregard for SAFETY! One of these days there's going to be a deadly stampede, or someone's going to get crushed to death, or suffocate...or, in my case, completely lose it and start punching people in the head.

It is what I dread every morning. It completely ruins any happy mood I'm in. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Old Japanese Men

What a character.

If they're not spitting seaweed when they talk or sucking bits of leftover food and dislodged tooth decay through their dentures, they're finding some other way to upset the innocence of the average individual just trying to get by in life.

Old people, like us all, of course, need companionship in life, I get that. But why pigeons?! It seems that Hobby #1 for your average, budget-minded old guy is to spend one's free time hanging out in public places thowing feed to these flying guinea rats. I wouldn't mind it if they were peacocks, or lovebirds, or something with a little more class, but to me the pigeon is nothing more than a super efficient machine that can turn anything into snow-white shit that has the permanency of concrete. For a lot of the park benches in my neighborhood you'd swear we just had a winter snowfall, if it wasn't for the summer sweat percolating through my clothes.

Ahh, and my new friend, the Morning Train. That sees its fair share of old farts. What better place for the "chikan" (pervert) to rub up against commuting office girls and generally voice their opinions. It seems that senility kicks in at a rather early age in Japan - it might be something they put in the rice wine. The septuagenairan crazies adopt un-Japanese-like tendencies when they hit the pensioner mark. Screaming what is otherwise jibberish or pre-WW2 propaganda. Engaging in verbal battles with inanimate objects. Urinating in central, public places. Hacking up loogies (and lung bits) and "distributing" them wherever they please. Feeling up young women...it's disgusting. It's wrong. It's..typical "Oyaji".

And they have this superiority complex that would make even Mussolini blush. If they're not trying to expound on the purity of Japanese culture (which is bullshit...they should look out their crusty windows more often) or condemning the "white devils", they're walking, talking, moving and behaving like they own the place and everyone else can go fuck off.

Well, this coming Monday is Respect for the Aged Day. And I suppose it's poignant that I vent a little on this topic now. For the most part I like old Japanese people. Their kindness is measured in pears and courtious bows, which is just the most surreal and pleasing thing you can ever experience. Just today I met the nice old lady across the street who runs the dry cleaners - couldn't be any sweeter if you dipped her in honey, (or, the Japanese equivalent of a green tea sweetener).

But compare her to the old fuck in the building across the way from me. I'm on the 7th floor; he and his wife are on the 6th - a few weeks back I was on the balcony, chatting on the phone to an old friend. Without warninig he sticks his head out of the sliding door to his apartment and yells in broken English, "Shut Up!" and "You Be Quiet!!". Of course, his volume is of no matter, right? After all, I can hear him every evening from all the way over in my place - I can hear him drinking his beer, watching his TV, throwing chauvanistic putdowns at his housewife and sucking food bits through his teeth. This is a man most foul.

So, screw him. I'll give old people the benefit of the doubt - I do believe Respect for the Aged Day is a fitting way to show respect to one's elders. They've been around a while, and as a member of a younger generation, I think it's only proper to acknowledge the lives they lived, the impact they made and the wisdom they can pass down. But I don't just hand out my respect cards to just anyone based on age. Be an asshole to me and I'll treat you just the same. Reciprocity. It's a nice word.

So to the nice lady from the cleaners, to my formers teachers and co-workers...anyone who's up there in the years and been my mentor/sempai through this adventure of life in Japan, "おつかれさまでした!!" (To be honest I'm not sure what the proper thing to say is, if anything. So I'll say it my way..."Cheers".)

And to the pigeon feeders...please stop contributing to the off-white paint job of our municipal parks and walkways and do what normal old farts do.....blow your retirement fund on Lark cigarettes and horse race betting.

M

The Tokyo Commute

As an old Irish friend of mine would say, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What are you like?!?!", I am thinking along similar bands of exclamation when I comment on the Tokyo Commuter Train...

Holy shit that's intense!

I recently left the cuddly outback of Utsunomiya, a city roughly 100 metric clicks north of Tokyo, and headed down to the big city. Like the Jeffersons I shot vertical in my never-ending quest for world rule, and took up a job at an IT firm in metropolitan Tokyo. (The comparison to Mr. & Mrs. "J" ends at the upward motion...)

So now I live in the cozy suburbs of north Tokyo, in what many refer to as the "Beverly Hills of Tokyo". Though in defending my own modesty, it's the quietude and abundance of greenery that gives it such a name. There are no Prada boutiques or Wolfgang Puck eateries in my 'hood.

I work, however, in posh Minami-Aoyama, just a stone's throw from Shibuya station and across the street from a very elite private University. Needless to say, I'm smack in the middle of this most dynamic metropolis.

And getting there every morning is HELL! What you may have heard in the form of rumor, forget about it. Train conductors with white gloves shove us into the train cars like sardines (somewhat literally, given their heavy diet of fish), leaving very little breathing room or even space for the slightest outward lung movement. And to top that off, every asshole and his dog seems to regress to selfish space-loving bastard-asses, aggressively punching (yay, this is NOT an exaggeration!), shoving, grabbing and kicking while inside the choo-choo tube. Sardines should be so lucky, at least they're packed in to their tin can with some governing sense of order.

I was in the middle of unleashing such a winded rant earlier today, when a coworker mentioned that the degree of commuter congestion could be compared to, perhaps, "sardines in a can", or "potato chips in a bag"...well, the Saikyo Line (notorious for its hysteria and sheer volume of commuters) from Akabane to Shibuya, is like "potato chips in a sardine can". Nothing gets out undamaged, unscathed or un-crumbled. Sheeeeea...

I used to think Japan was something of a first-world country. Now, no way, Jose. This was primal at best. Animalistic if you will. And one hell of a safety hazard. What if there was a fire, or an earthquake? What if someone in the middle of it all had a heart attack!? Forget about it. This is Japanese Consumerism at its most ugly. Japan Railways Co. saying, "fuck customer service, and balls to value...squeeze "em in there cos' we's making money today!".

Young sceptics, believe me you may not, but I tell you it must be experienced first-hand in order to capture the full weight and intensity. Even on the last train back at night (at 11:33 pm), after the old farts have downed a few too many snifters of rice wine: mayhem abounds. Like something you'd see in Red Square during a peasant revolt in the early 80's. Actually, it reminded me of those videos you (sometimes?) see of hampsters or baby chicks in a big industrial chute, all clawing their way to the surface while piled upon their myriad brethren. Though not nearly as cute.

The Tokyo commute...I wouldn't wish it on my mortal foe. And I'm going to have to use humor to get through this I'm sure, as I'm also sure it might someday take its toll on me. Regardless, the ride is only 22 minutes each way, from home to work, so I think I can manage. Hopefully.

That being said, wish me luck. Tonight I'm having sardines for dinner. Against my will.

Ciao,
M

POST SCRIPT: Tonight I actually did have unexpected, salty fish...chopped up anchovies in the Caesar salad. WTF?! Mad gross that was.

Japan Supports Mozilla...maybe.

Not that many in the US are even watching the World Cup, but it's big news in the rest of the world. Especially here in Japan, where, before the upsetting loss to Austrlia you couldn't turn around without being sumo-slapped with WC sound-bytes about the "Samurai Blue".

In 2002 it was all about the Beckham haircut; I myself tried it out for a little bit, but it never got me anywhere. Now in 2006, Team Zico (Japan) has taken soccer-hair one step further - and it looks a lot like Firefox.





I think it's the orange tinted tuft that discerns the Firefox cut from the Beckham cut...No?





Cheers,

M

Call Me Crusoe

I am doing this. Without a doubt, 100%...I'll need two nights to sleep on it, but then I'm reserving my spot. Holy shit this sounds like fun.

I just wish the whole work/career thing wasn't always getting the way.

http://tribewanted.com/
M

Holy Cow This is Funny...

This has without a doubt made its rounds around the world many times, and ended up in everyone's Inbox at one time or another. But I just came across this file, buried in some old folders, and I just had to get it out there again. This sort of intellectual humor is simply priceless!

And what better subject than the docile cow...

-----

DEMOCRAT:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
Barbara Streisand sings for you.

REPUBLICAN:
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?

SOCIALIST:
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.
You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.

COMMUNIST:
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk.
You wait in line for hours to get it.
It is expensive and sour.

CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.

DEMOCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government taxes you to the point you have to sell both to support
a man in a foreign country who has only one cow, which was a gift from
your government.

BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE:
You have two cows.
The government takes them both, shoots one, milks the other, pays you
for the milk, and then pours the milk down the drain.

AMERICAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are
surprised when one cow drops dead. You spin an announcement to the
analysts stating you have down sized and are reducing expenses. Your
stock goes up.

FRENCH CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
You go to lunch and drink wine.
Life is good.

JAPANESE CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one tenth the size of an ordinary cow
and produce twenty times the milk. They learn to travel on unbelievably
crowded trains. Most are at the top of their class at cow school.

GERMAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer, give
excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour. Unfortunately
they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.

ITALIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows but you don’t know where they are.
While ambling around, you see a beautiful woman.
You break for lunch.
Life is good.

RUSSIAN CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
You have some vodka.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You have some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
The Mafia shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.

TALIBAN CORPORATION:
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two.
You don’t milk them because you cannot touch any creature’s private
parts Then you kill them and claim a US bomb blew them up while they
were in the hospital.

IRAQI CORPORATION:
You have two cows.
They go into hiding.
They send radio tapes of their mooing.

POLISH CORPORATION:
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.

FLORIDA CORPORATION:
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who like the brown one best, vote for the black one.
Some people vote for both. Some people vote for neither. Some people
can’t figure out how to vote at all. Finally, a bunch of guys from
out-of-state tell you which is the best looking cow.

CALIFORNIAN CORPORATION:
You have a cow and a bull.
The bull is depressed.
It has spent its life living a lie.
It goes away for two weeks.
It comes back after a taxpayer-paid sex-change operation.
You now have two cows.
One makes milk; the other doesn't.
You try to sell the transgender cow.
Its lawyer sues you for discrimination.
You lose in court.
You sell the milk-generating cow to pay the damages.
You now have one rich, transgendered, non-milk-producing cow.
You change your business to beef. PETA pickets your farm.
Jesse Jackson makes a speech in your driveway.
Cruz Bustamante calls for higher farm taxes to help “working cows.”
Hillary Clinton calls for the nationalization of 1/7 of your farm “for
the children.”
Gray Davis signs a law giving your farm to Mexico.
The L.A. Times quotes five anonymous cows claiming you groped their
teats.
You declare bankruptcy and shut down all operations.
The cow starves to death.
The L.A. Times' analysis shows your business failure is Bush’s fault

Three-Legged Gorilla

The GorillaPod, named so possibly because of the many similarites to gorilla fingers and their penchant for "grabbing". It is by far the coolest accessory I've bought in long time.

I was just window shopping over at Yodobashi Camera the other day when I saw these on display. I had to get one. I've never owned a tripod before and never thought I would, but this is just too wicked to pass up.

The GorillaPod

M

I Totally Called It...

So CNN just did a little article on the age-old question of the chicken & egg...which came first....and apparently a few people have come up with the answer.

They say it was the egg...exactly what I've been saying for ages.

"Put simply, the reason is down to the fact that genetic material does not change during an animal's life. Therefore the first bird that evolved into what we would call a chicken, probably in prehistoric times, must have first existed as an embryo inside an egg."

http://edition.cnn.com/2006/TECH/science/05/26/chicken.egg/index.html

I already called this, ages ago. Why the hell didn't they do an article on me?!

http://iamtetsumaiku.blogspot.com/2006/02/all-about-me-questionnaire.html

M

Waxing Gibbous...

...THAT, my loon(ar)y friends, was the state of Earth's single moon, (and the future name of my rock band), on the day I was born: June 14th, 1978

The Birthday Calendar has got all sorts of wicked fun information like that. Just pop in the date of your womb-exeunt and you can find out stuff like your epact number, age in dog years and other such entirely meaningful trivia. This is interesting. Okay, so what if I'm a Gemini or if I was born in the Chinese zodiac Year of the Horse...but to know that I have a birth tree!? Who knew?! It's a tree, what are they doing associating themselves with our lives? (Mine is the oh-so-"sensible" Fig Tree...as I am, very much like a fig)

Now, I'm not well read on Life Numbers and all that astrological jazz; According to that burned-out hippie from the dorms in my Uni days who read my palm once, I'm going to be famous and die "very soon". Wasn't a big fan of that patchouli-stank wench, I must say.

What I am into is that which can actually be counted, weighed, measured, felt, tasted and enjoyed. Like two heavy pints of cold, frothy malt beer, making it's way ever-so-gingerly down my food hole. Which is why the bit about my age caught my eye. I am, (or, I was when I submitted my age), 14,696,861 minutes old. That's 881,811,714 seconds!

Obviously, since there's no option to enter your time of birth and since computer clocks are quite arbitrary, this isn't exact, I know. I'm sure my age in seconds isn't exactly was it says. But it got me thinking...that's not too far off from ONE BILLION! Holy shit, think of it like that and we're all super old!

So here's the plan...in a few years, when I'm roughly 31.7 years old, I'm throwing a party. I'm throwing a party to celebrate turning one billion seconds old! No cake with candles, because that wouldn't be practical, but I'll definitely have a lot of beer. Inevitably somebody will make me do one billion shots of tequila, as would be custom, but I think I'll give that a pass. I'm really hoping that I make it to my second billionth second party.

Cheers,
M

(via Lifehacker, a schweet "survival guide" for the jack-of-all-trades geek, and whose writers aren't as pretentious as those on other popular sites....)

Somebody Should Spank Her Again

Have you read about this Janet Orlando bird? One hell of a looker, dontcha' think? She sued (AND WON!) for emotional distress (oh, grow a pair!) caused by a little paddle on the bum during a motivation-building exercise or something of the sort.

Fuck.

I have officially lost faith in humankind. Janet Orlando, wherever you are right now, know this: you can now go to bed at night knowing that although you are rich as sin, you have single-handedly caused another human being to lose faith in all that is good.

I thought the McDonalds Coffee incident was fucked. Or the case about the guy who hurt humself while burgling somebody else's house...but this takes the cake.

$10,000 for "economic loss" - Okay she'll need this...she's not going to find a job anytime soon.

$40,000 for "future medical costs" - C'mon! At most you'll need an ice pack and a soft pillow to sit on! You weren't shot in the ass, were you? Stabbed?

$450,000 for "emotional distress, pain and suffering" - Shouldn't the "pain" bit be inclusive in the "future medical costs" part? And seriously, we've all been spanked at some point or another. Some people even get off on it! What's the big hangup?! How insecure are you?

$1.2 million for "punitive damages" - Overkill. It was a silly exercise that EVERYONE was doing...

My blood is boiling right now. I cannot believe this is happening. I am so livid there is very little keeping me from putting my fist through this computer. I wonder, has the rest of the world been following this story? Are they all as disgusted as I am?

Do everybody a favor...without making any false claims - (it could result in a libel case, as Janet Orlando seems greedy enough to sue over the most bullshit of things) - tell everyone about her and this pathetic case. I don't want another greedy bullshit artist going unnoticed as he/she takes the easy way out in life by ass-fucking everyone else.

Disappointed and angry,

M

Chemical Freedom

One of my favorite Internet sites, United Nuclear, is an online distributor of some of the coolest, most wicked, absolutely awesome science-related equipment available to the public. Every time I go there a'browsing I feel like a child trapped in a world of salt water taffy. ScienTIFic TAFfy...

But then I noticed this little blurb about how the U.S. Government is ONCE AGAIN (!!) trying to take away the public's freedom by introducing some bill that will lead to banning yet one more thing. Now, if a state were to try and outlaw sex toys, well, it's fucking stupid but hey, I'll get my dildos and spiked paddles from some lucky storeowner in a nearby state.

What the U.S. Government wants to do is ban public access to pretty much ALL chemicals...threatening to pull from the shelves every chemistry set out there, crushing the childhood dreams of many to become Nobel laureate chemists who could one day create new medicines, unlock the secrets of our biology and pretty much change science for the better. I can see the reasoning behind the idea, but not the logic. And to think that there might be a generation of children without their own supply of cobalt chloride, well, that's a world I don't want to live in.

From the article on the United Nuclear website....

The United States CPSC has initiated criminal legal action against us and other chemical suppliers. In short, the CPSC would like to ban the public from all access to chemicals. This would mean an end to hobbies such as model rocketry, pyrotechnics and of course chemistry. One by one, our freedoms are slowly being taken away from us - this action must be stopped now.

Back in middle- and high-school I was full-on into chemistry. At one point I even had access to the product catalog for the wholesaler in north Jakarta, Indonesia that supplied our Chemistry Department. I remember many a trip to that store on weekends, buying test tubes, petrie dishes, Erlenmeyer flasks, and oh...chemicals! I used to buy potassium nitrate (KNO₃ - We used to make our own fireworks), potassium permanganate (KMnO₄ - I used to turn our school fountain purple), silver nitrate (AgNO₃ - For tatooing self in silver), cobalt chloride, (CoCl₂ - Because it looks cool as it changes colors going from dry to wet!) and more...

Back in 7th grade I created a hydrolysis machine that well-surpassed the quality of the ones we used in class, for separating water (H₂O) into hydrogen and oxygen...I used the carbon cores of D-cell batteries as the anodes & cathodes, held in place by a wax mold and plugged into a video game console's AC adapter to get more juice than the normal battery packs. Science rocks.

And now the government wants to take that love away? What's next?

Reason #....(well, I stopped counting long ago)...why I'm happier here in Japan.

Cheers,
M

Plush Phylum = Wicked Toy

For Christmas last year my mother, who knows me all too well, got me the entire collection of Plush Microbes from ThinkGeek.Com. What a bizarre and yet completely awesome gift! I mean, honestly, how terrible can Ebola be when it's staring at you with bobble eyes. And really, what's a bit of Syphilis in your bed when you've at least got something to snuggle with.

Okay that was off on many levels, but you have to admit that when stuffed animals meet bacterium, all good things happen.

So there was this report a while back about a new lobster-crab creature discovered at the bottom of the ocean off Easter Island...



Kiwa hirsuta...he's a unique little sea bug, ain't he? He's the Brittney Spears of the crustacean world. "Not a crab, not yet a lobster"....though I'd figure the best way to figure that one out would be to steam him Maine-style and take him for a dip in the melted butter.

Anyway, back on topic...it was only a matter of time before someone came up with a plush version of the little fella. And you can make one too because the sewing patterns and what-not have been released under a Creative Commons license. #55 on my list of hobbyist projects to do this spring.

(From Antipixel, a pretty cool site I found recently)

Cheers,
M

Hilarity of the Beast

So, I'm reading today's Straight Dope where the inquiring mind posed a question regarding the number "666"; why is it associated with evil and the devil?

It's a good read, and generally tries to dissect the meaning of this number by referencing the Books of Daniel and Revelation, and points out some interesting observations. But then at the end it goes on to lampoon this oh-so-satan-ish connotation by listing a bunch of other numbers that are "...of the Beast"...

...it had me in stiches!

660 = Approximate number of the Beast
DCLXVI = Roman numeral of the Beast
666.0000 = Number of the High Precision Beast
0.666 = Number of the Millibeast
/ 666 = Beast Common Denominator
(-666) ^ (1/2) = Imaginary number of the Beast
6.66 e3 = Floating point Beast
1010011010 = Binary of the Beast
6, uh . . . what was that number again? = Number of the Blonde Beast
1-666 = Area code of the Beast
00666 = Zip code of the Beast
666mph = The speed limit of the Beast
$665.95 = Retail price of the Beast
$699.25 = Price of the Beast plus 5% state sales tax
$769.95 = Price of the Beast with all accessories and replacement soul
$656.66 = Walmart price of the Beast
$646.66 = Next week's Walmart price of the Beast
Phillips 666 = Gasoline of the Beast
Route 666 = Way of the Beast
666 F = Oven temperature for roast Beast
666k = Retirement plan of the Beast
666 mg = Recommended Minimum Daily Requirement of Beast
6.66 % = 5 year CD interest rate at First Beast of Hell National Bank, $666 minimum deposit.
$666/hr = Beast's lawyer's billing rate
Lotus 6-6-6 = Spreadsheet of the Beast
Word 6.66 = Word Processor of the Beast
i66686 = CPU of the Beast
665.9997856 = The Number of the Beast on a Pentium
666i = BMW of the Beast
DSM-666 (revised) = Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the Beast
1232 Octal, Apt. 29A = Beast's hexed address
668 = Next-door neighbor of the Beast
333 = The semi-Christ

Funny stuff, Thanks Straight Dope!

M

Bringing Back the "Sin" in "Cuisine"

(Link found in random Internet browsing...)

http://www.bertc.com/recipes.htm

I don't know what this guy is thinking.

I imagine that children go mad over recipes like 'Boogers On A Stick'. It's just the way kids are...super gross, germ infested and socially frightening. Hell, brocoli tastes like shit to anyone under 10, but say they're Leprechaun brains and all of a sudden you're looking at a room full of Hannibal copycats.

Gross, yet chilidshly funny names like these are tame when attributed to an appetizer consisting of cheeze whiz, green food coloring and pretzel sticks. It's very off-putting, yes, as are recipes like 'Deep Shit Cookies' (called as such, hopefully, because of the insane amount of chocolate and sugar required).

What I'm squeamish about are the recipes for Cow Udders (the actual, finger like nips o' bovine), British Bull Balls and the Irish Haggis, among many others that use fucked up ingredients. Moose snouts, bugs...I'm not sure whether this is something of a joke, or if he's really serious. Either way, it's disgusting, and enough to cause one's stomach to turn...turn, then vomit back up a delicious dish that will eventually be named on this guy's website.

Urg.

M

Idol Fever

I love American Idol. What a great show. Not so much the music side of it, but rather the contest part. Watching people get eliminated from something is just so cathartic. It's like a sport, really...blood sport. And I know, people might say that I couldn't do any better, but I know that. I have about as much range as a cap gun. But if you put yourself out there in front of the camera you become fodder. Like chum to a swarm of crab. Your life is now my entertainment.

Anyway, I've got a few things to say as we get Season 5 going:

* Randy! Enough with the "dawg pound" shit! It's all well and good you being yourself but don't bring those kids into your world...a bunch of gangly white boys doin' The Arsenio "whoop!" is just painful to watch. And you shouldn't be encouraging it! Anyway, it makes the guys look like "dogs", not dawgs, and I'm not talking the cool kind. I'm thinking Odie, here.

* Paula...it's about time you started telling people how it is. Good for you! Though just because you're about to say something negative doesn't mean you have to begin with positive reinforcement. "You look beautiful tonight...but listening to you made me want to kill myself." Just kind of weird and a bit patronizing. Sometimes it's better to lay on the negative because they don't need the positive. Not every ego needs constant stroking. Either way, good job "keeping it real".

(I think Simon rocks and have nothing to say about him.)

As for the contestants, I'm not sold on the guys. A few of them I think could be the next "Idol", but for the most part they seem to be there because they fit in to the television industry-imposed minimum standard for including all demographics in a show...either that or pity. And guys, hear me out here...that lap-dogging shit isn't gonna earn you any points in the I've-got-balls category.

The girls...well, I like a few and I hate the rest. And they're much more fun to look at, so...
In order from the most loathed to the most liked-->

Brenna Gethers:
What an awful person. Would anybody actually think of having a 3-minute conversation with this girl, let alone want to listen to her warble for five? She's got that bitchy attitude that television likes because it creates drama, but she does nothing for music. She's rude and she has no idea of "who she is". She is gone, hopefully, only to be forgotton.

Heather Cox:
It was horrible watching that. When she went up against the other girl in the finals, she got it cuz she's the purty one. But that was just an awful performance. I couldn't even imagine her being all sexy and everything. Her voice completely overshadowed her physical appearance, forever crushing my gender-inspired belief that even the most hopeless women can at least fall back on their looks.

Stevie Scott:
What the...? I don't know what that falsetto deal was but I didn't feel anything. She reminds me of somebody, though...Nicole, the winner of America's Next Top Model Cycle 6...(by the way, mini-rant here: What the shit is up with them calling it a "cycle" and not a "season"? Fuck, some people are so pretentious.)...though I don't think Stevie is as pretty.

Kinnick Sky:
Who? Totally forgettable. You're not a diva, so don't even go there.

Becky O'Donahue:
I can see why Simon called her "a 10", because she is hot. But in that overly Photoshop'ed, FHM/Maxim pin-up kind of way. I don't know, it just seems a bit creepy. Either way, her singing-style? Very 80's-sounding. It may have been the song she sang, but really, when you've already got the big hair and heavy make-up you're taking a bit too far of a trip into the past for my liking. Plus, she (as well as other girls too, mind you) tried to pull off the "Carrie Underwood stance" - (legs apart, slight squat) - and to be quite honest it looked like she was taking a shit on stage. Not cool. Though in fairness to Becky, Brenna's "Carrie" stance accompanied a grunt or too, which was very off-putting.

Melissa McGhee:
Okay she's got a hot voice. I like raspy. Not too raspy, her's is kind of citric. And she reminds me of someone. Someone from reality, my past, not necessarily from TV. But who, who I ask?! Gotta keep her around till I figure that one out.

Mandisa:
She's cool. She's got attitude. I think she needs to back off Simon, though - she's not going to earn my sympathy vote by latching on to his trail of fame and popularity. "Oooh, we have an understanding now." Like hell you do! Keeping up with this inside-joke thing will only make people think you're a clinger. Here's what you need to do: just smile, sing and shake your ass...and I'll groove wit' ya.

Ayla Brown:
I like her. She's alright, she's a good singer. She's probably one hell of a basketball player, too. And I like any woman who looks like she could beat me up. Not in that catty, violent way, with far too many "chinga te"'s and "puta"'s, but more like a psychological arm wrestle with a bit of shoving.

Lisa Tucker:
Okay, I know she's good. Very good. I didn't like her performance THAT much, but I know she's got it in her to rip it up. I think other girls have much more Idol-friendly personalities and charms, but I'll give it to her that she has a good voice. My one problem...when you take away the voice, she's regular.

Kellie Pickler:
This year's "Aww, shucks!"-girl...it was Carrie Underwood last year. The small town, innocent, girl-next-door, super hot blonde that values family and purity. Though, you know, this one's got a bit of a dark side, so who knows what kind of kinky stuff will come out over the next few months. After all she does have that sketchy family history. No matter, though, she's a very nice girl, and she's going to make it far. Not because of her singing, but because people want to look at her and listen to her ramble. I'm guilty there...blondes rock.

Paris Bennett:
I loved her audition, she's got a wicked voice...but shit, she's 16! Is she gonna survive this show? Doesn't she have school?! Well, she's fun to listen to, fun to watch and she reminds me of Oliver Twist. 'Nuff said.

Katharine McPhee:
Last year I called it - I knew Carrie Underwood would win from the minute the top 12 were decided. Bo's popularity did threaten to derail that one several times, but in the end, she did win. Now, I also called the winner of Canadian Idol 3, Melissa O'Neil. (Yup, I watch too much TV.) Mark my words, Katharine McPhee is gonna win this one.
I keep a very, very short list (in my head) of the sexiest things I've seen in my life. And it's not full of girl-on-girl action, Mardi Gras titties, dance club snogs or leud magazines...sure, that stuff is hot, but not sexy.
But her performance the other night, the way she commanded the camera, the mic, the audience...I had to watch it again it was that...fucking' sexy! I guarantee you that she has got the vote of EVERY straight guy who watches Idol, (and, of course, who is not related to another contestant). She gets the judges on her side, but not in that "pity me"-way like Mendisa does. She's got a bit of a spark, but not as ugly and inconsiderate as Brenna. She's got the innocent vibe going on as well, but not somewhat clued out like Kellie or young like Paris. And, this girl can mother-fuckin' SING. So, hear me out, I'm calling it right now. Katherine's gonna win this one...and it's going to be awesome watching her do it.

---

Okay, shit, I can't believe I've spent all this time writing about the Idol girls. Oh well, nobody else watches it here and I've got to rant to someone. Might as well be the infinite nothing.

M

A Prime Time Opine

Gosh I love television! What drama, what craziness². Okay, so most of my nights are spent watching TV because, let's face it, simulated reality is often times a lot more eventful and exciting than real life. Not that my life is dull, by any means, but it's nice to be privy to somebody else's issues and adventures every once in a while. You know, see something from that omniscient, 3rd-person POV. It helps to get out of one's head every now and again. Especially when that head is constantly counting to a million, or strategizing, or plotting...

First off, what strange meaning or karmic hint is this, that two episodes watched back-to-back center around clueless hermaphrodites?! First off, House, the somewhat dark medical drama/comedy(?) starring Hugh Laurie as a super-brilliant, prescription-meds-addicted, downward-spirialing narcissist who solves the most fucked up of cases. This week's case in point, a chick model who has balls.

Then, follow that with an episode of Gray's Anatomy - (am a bit behind in this show, but slowly catching up) - where a flat-chested, somewhat boyish high school girl's tendencies can be summed up by the fact that she too has hidden balls. What's up with that?! I can't be the only one to have noticed this. Here we have two shows, both dealing in issues that really, only the microscopic C.elegans nematode could appreciate. Ahh, it reminds me of my days in Developmental Bio lab, playing God with the genetics of the little beasts. Of course, in their world, being a ("an"? how silent is the "h") hermaphrodite has its benefits from a reproductive point of view...worm society stigmas aside. Oh, what cruel irony that their lives last a mere three days; 72 hours of self-boning bliss while such humans have to endure a lifetime of psychological trauma and social rejection. Where's the justice?!

Okay, so genetics determines whether we all make the shift from female to male, as we all start out as the former. That leads me to think, though my medical knowledge is limited, that there are few penis-flailing guys out there hiding hidden fallopia and utera (took licenses on the plural-izing). However, it is nerve-racking enough to get out my homemade MRI and scan the nether-regions, hoping I don't stumble across an egg or two.

M

The "All About Me" Questionnaire

I rather enjoy these emails; I get them twice or so a year, and they're quite fun to write up. Here are my answers to the latest one making its rounds...

1. What time did you get up this morning?
7:45
2. Diamonds or pearls?
Neither look good on me.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Star Wars 3
4. What are your favourite TV shows?
24, House, Prison Break, American Idol
5. What did you have for breakfast?
A cigarette.
6. What is your middle name?
Gregory
7. What is your favourite cuisine?
Moroccan or Greek
8. What foods do you dislike?
Smelly fishy things.
9. What is your favourite chip?
Samboy salt & vinegar
10. What is your favourite CD at the moment?
CD? Those are so 1999. (Green Day - American Idiot)
11. What kind of car do you drive?
2-wheel, one speed, Mama-chari
12. What is your favourite sandwich?
BBQ Beef
13. What characteristics do you despise?
People who are immature, disloyal, cheap (not frugal or thrify, mind you), unconfident, and/or think that they are 'the shit'.
14. Favourite item of clothing?
pink dress shirt
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?
Perth, Australia or Dubai
16. What colour is your bathroom?
Cream
17. Favourite brand of clothing?
Express
18. Where would you want to retire?
Someplace warm, near a tiki bar.
19. Favourite time of day?
7-7:30pm. Work & chores are done. Time for dinner & TV.
20. Where were you born?
Houston, Texas
21. Favourite sport to watch?
American Football
22. Who do you least expect to send this back?
Dave G, Lucy, Becky, Joe G, Kerrina, Sahala, Will D - no offense guys...(prove me wrong).
23. Person (people) you expect to send it back first?
Hrm...Margot, Big Mike...no pressure, tho.
24. What type of detergent do you use?
Liquid Cheer - Cold Water
25. Coke or Pepsi?
Coke
26. Morning person or night owl?
night person
27. What size shoe do you wear?
US 11 1/2 - 12; JPN 30
28. Do you have pets?
What, and pick up their shit with my hands?! Hell no.
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone?
Nope. You mean besides the nipple enlarging surgery, my record-setting goiter, my seputagenairan fiance's newborn quadruplets and the new Weapons-For-Food bartering service I started in Laos?...No, nothing new to report.
31. Favourite candy bar?
A toss-up between Twix and Mars.
32. What is your best childhood memory?
Running around the empty Singapore airport at night while waiting for the morning flight to Jakarta, on our way back from winter or summer vacation.
33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life?
Subway Sandwich Artist (whatever) & Coordinator for Int'l. Relations (now)
34. What colour underwear are you wearing?
stripey navy blue.
35. Piercing?
...blue eyes. Oh, like rings and bolts and shit? Nope.
36. Eye colour?
piercing blue.
37. Ever been to Africa?
No
38. Ever been toilet papered?
No...but have I ever BEEN toilet paper-ing?! Oh, heck yeah!
39. Love someone so much it made you cry?
Yeah, and thanks for bringing it back up.
40. Been in a car accident?
No.
41. Croutons or bacon bits?
Croutons, baby.
42. Favourite day of the week?
Saturday
43. Favourite restaurant(s)?
Theme restaurants like TGI Fridays, Planet Hollywood, etc.. Also Coco Ichibanya Curry House
44. Favourite flower?
Rose
45. Favourite ice cream?
Butter Pecan
46. Disney or Warner Brothers?
Disney, but not that lame Mickey, Minnie, Goofy and Pluto shit. I'm talking Ariel, Belle and Princess Jasmine.
47. Favourite fast food restaurant(s)?
Taco Bell or Steak n' Shake
48. What colour is your carpet?
Patterned red/brown/tan.
49. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
Zero times
50. Before this one, from whom did you get your last email?
Natalie Wong
51. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
The Discovery Store or Home Depot
52. What do you do most often when you are bored?
Watch TV, play with cards.
53. Who are you most curious about their responses to this questionnaire?
Everyone, really. Always good to hear about the details of another's life.
54. Last person/people you went out to eat with?
Marco & Heather.
55. Ford or Chevy?
Who cares?
56. What are you listening to right now?
Boss in a meeting, printer printing, stapler stapling, somebody blowing their nose.
57. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
The egg. But only if we agree to accept that evolution has merit in the our society when it comes to species development. (Creation and Evolution CAN go hand in hand.) Anyway, we can say that the 'Chicken' is the evolutionary product of a previous creature that was NOT a chicken. Said NON-chicken's mother (the egg layer) must have therefore laid the first chicken egg, and NOT an egg of her own species. A genetic mutation or mutationS (during fertilization and/or development) resulted in the egg and offspring becoming what we now know as a "Chicken", though the parent was anything but. Hence, there initially had to be an egg from where that chicken came. Now, we can also assume that a mammalian creature (where development occurs in utero) underwent an evolutionary mutation so that it would from then on give birth to its offspring by laying eggs. However, this situation requires that there is another similar mutation occuring in another creature at the same time to guarantee fertilization and keep the new "chicken" species going (chickens aren't hermaphroditic)...this is normally seen as evolutionary "back-tracking" and generally dismissed. Also, it is WAY more unlikely when compared to the first scenario. So...my money is on the EGG.
58. How many people are you sending this email to?
Quite a few.
59. Time you finished this questionnaire:
11:43am.

A Gala For a Good Cause...

Friday, December 9th, 7:01pm. The 5th Annual Charity Talent Show at Beat Club Studio was supposed to have begun a minute ago, but we're running severely late. But nothing ever sticks 100% to any schedule, and by the end of the evening it proved to be a success. It began 4 years ago, in 2001, when good friend Jo Baker (of Time Asia and Hinge magazine repute) was looking to put together a charity show to raise funds for a volunteer trip to Paua New Guinea. That was back in December, 2001, and I helped her out as MC, eventually taking on the annual event as my own pet project after she left for warmer climes. Every year since then I have been coming up with new charities and new reasons to get everyone together for a night of entertainment. This year was no different.

We had about 13 acts and 50+odd guests, all drinking themselves into a stupor with each passing act. It was a bastion of talent and variety: Dan Frick played some guitar (and in the end, won the contest) with some soulful, bluesy originals; two Japanese girls entertained us with a hula dance and a koto performance. There was some a capella, some stand-up, a drunken sumo-bout which proved once again that "Carnie is a sleeze", and much more. For my main act, I thrust a 10" long needle through my arm and bled all over the stage. It's a bit Harry Anderson popularized back in his day. People were severely grossed out, and one of my poor co-workers in attendance felt somewhat ill...success, hells yeah!

In the end, after alcohol sales and donations, we raised over 65,000 yen (roughly US$600) for a women/children's shelter in the United Arab Emirates called Villa 18. The shelter is in Jumeira, Dubai, and my mother has done some charity work for them before, so she told me about it. Seemed like a very good cause, and everyone really stepped up to help out.

Past charities have included: Habitat for Humanity - Papua New Guinea ; BIWA (Bali International Women's Association) - hospital relief effort for the 2002 terrorist bombings; GoM.A.D. - volunteer organization for Thailand-based orphanages; and the Niigata Prefectural Government - relief following the 2004 Chuetsu earthquakes in north/central Japan.

It's always fun to do these things, especially for a good cause. And I'm glad we were able to once again show that Tochigi has a wicked big heart!

Cheers,
M

A Riddle With A Twist...

A mother is exactly 21 years older than her child. In 6 years, she will be 5 times older...

Question: Where is the father?

Do the math, you'll be pleasantly surprised at what you find.

Cheers,
Mb

EDIT: The answer is in the Comments bit...
Oh yes, and these are human beings and we are talking Earth years...

Got Blue Balls?

Check out this animated GIF...very cool.

TAKE ME TO BLUE BALLS

Mb

(By the way, totally work-safe)

They Call Him "The Hoss"

Last season, in a live vignette on an episode of American Idol 4, one lucky fan (frightening in both manner and appearance) got to meet his hero, David Hasselhoff. DH appeared out of nowhere to a screaming audience and through theatrical smile, played the part of untouchable-celebrity-turned-best-friend to the kid...it was definitely good comedy...of the slapstick kind.

As I am addicted to Reality TV shows where contestants are systematically "voted" or "sent" off to stew in their own failures as human beings, (okay, that's only half of the attraction), I have turned to the current On-Air theatrics of Australian Idol, currently dangling the Damoclical (new word) sword of fame over a remaining four contestants' heads.

And sure, they sing well and all, but it was the Final 6 Results Show that had the audience hooting and hollering like a wagon of horny daschunds...an absurdly wacky, seemingly coked-out David Hasselhoff as host of the first few minutes of the show and as the vestigial 4th judge. It was, I must admit, hilarious.

And the Aussies LOVE him! I mean, sure, this guy WAS Michael Knight...he had a talking car! But now his fame is a product of celebrity satire, constantly ducking the cheap shots (be they funny or not) of comedians and lay-men alike. Oh, what a cruel world this is.

But the great thing about it is, Hasselhoff, whom the Aussies lovingly call "The Hoss" - (probably in reverent praise to his alter-ego as a Lifeguard in a country where 99% of its people are near a beach.) - doesn't care. He's riding the SpongeBob wave of "nothing's gonna break my spirit"-fame and for that, he's alright in my book.

And watching him prance about the stage, mistakingly throwing out an "oh shit!" during his prologue, or spewing out advice and motivational platitudes on life and success, I thought I saw in him something that I see in myself when I'm giving lectures, be it for a crowd of septuagenarians or classroom of students. When I'm waxing on about International Relations and the United States and cultural understanding, I tend to notice similar things about me, that bother me: a bit of clueless-ness as to what people really think of me...an outward smile, while thinking inside, perhaps, that there are more dignified ways in which I could be utilized...a sense that my contribution to society should be more along the lines of curing cancer than acting stupid for a cheap laugh...

...but if television and Pauly Shore have taught me anything, sometimes you need to just channel your inner Carrot Top and be ridiculous. Sometimes you may need to cast off that shroud of dignity and be a bit nutty. As long as your intentions are to bring laughter and jovial hoots to another person, you've already bypassed the middleman and made a positive difference. After all, all those rich folk in big, dirty cities working in brightly lit cubicles still go out and spend their money on that which makes them laugh.

And reading this back I can't believe I twisted a Hasselhoff rant to come up with a notion on the "meaning of life".

BTW, while I'm on the topic of Reality TV, my most hated Reality Show "contestants":
* Omarosa (from the Surreal Life as well)
* Rob & Amber (Amazing Race 7)
* Tiffany (America's Next Top Model 4)
* Puck (RW)

Best. Picture. Ever.
Originally uploaded by callmebazza.

With that, I leave you with The Greatest Photo in the Entire World...

Cheers,

Mb

Google Magic

This is pretty cool. What looks like a Google Search Engine instantly becomes your palette for magic of the bizarre kind. It's a mind-fuck trick, one you can easily set up and the best part is nobody suspects what's about to happen. Incidentally, I did this on a co-worker that sits next to me and he freaked. the shit. out.

1.)Load up the page (link below).
2.)Show your hands completely empty and inadvertently, with a bit of misdirection, click the mouse anywhere on the page.
3.)You now have about 2-3 seconds to cover the "oo" in Google with your fingers.
4.)Gently rub the monitor at those spots and slowly wipe the "oo" away. If your timing is right, (I think they fade out in about 4 seconds), you'll give the illusion your fingers are magic and can affect onscreen data.
5.)Again inadvertently click anywhere on the page, and once more you'll have about 3 seconds to cover the spot where the "oo" used to be. With a little flourish, rub them right back on.
6.)One more click anywhere on the page and you're taken to the real Google site you can actually use, giving the impression you are a real magician.

It's not a perfect trick; the gaffed Google page does look a little odd. And the loading from fake-Google-page to real-Google-page does look fishy. But what gives this trick it's freak-out mystique is the 3-4 second wait after the the mouse click. The change doesn't occur immediately after the click, so the audience has already forgotten about it by the time the trick is performed.

Way cool.

Gaffed Google Search Engine

Cheers,
Mb

Thrity-Five Haiku on Japan's Little Charms

三十五句の俳句

The Haiku I've come up with over four years of Bad Japan Days. Not that today was one - I just get a good kick out of reading these and getting a good gut-chuckle goin' on. They are very culturally-specific. I doubt anyone who isn't familiar with Japan's little details will understand any of them...but not that many people read this blog anyway. So to the two of you out there, enjoy!

Oh, my small raw egg,
Would that you could cook yourself,
And leave my rice bowl.

Grilling fish, roadside,
Oh my God what in the hell,
Is that awful smell?

Gyoza filled with pork,
Cabbage, garlic, miso too.
And don’t forget corn.

Corn is everywhere.
Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn
Topped with star mayo.

Why is my pizza
Moving slowly back and forth?
Must be the raw squid.

Two degrees outside.
My ears are frozen solid,
But my nabe boils.

In My Home I sit.
At My Pace I drink My Soup.
Shoot head with My Gun.

Authentic French Food...?
If you run out of Shoyu
Throw on some ketchup.

What the fuck is that
Floating in my Miso soup?!
Oh, it’s just fish balls.

Tochigi is blessed
With "spectacular nature"...
...and fields of concrete.

The crow in my yard
Shrieks loudly at the drunk man
Pissing on my gate.

I need to go pee.
Forget about porcelain.
I’ll use this brick wall.

Apples and Gildea.
A great day to be alive.
Alive in Yaita.

"I live for Senbei!"
Said the old man to his wife.
"Sucks I have no teeth!"

There's a pregnant fish
lying on the plate...oh yum!
I'll start with the head.

See the roach motel.
Decorated oh so nice.
So few vacancies.

Girl with high-soled boots.
Does her make-up as she walks...
Trips and breaks her teeth.

What is up with Glay?
Can't even say their own name,
And should therefore die.

Punk Japanese boy,
With mullet hair he walks on,
Listening to Glay.

Is it Glay or Gray?
Well then why do you say Gray?
"Glow" some pubic hair!

The law says, "don't stop".
But you really haven't stopped
if hazards are on.

Beer for sale at store!
5 cans for one thousand yen...
or 6 for two-thou!

I JUST saw more corn!
Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn Corn.
Oh, my yellow hell.

Put candy in bag,
Then put bag in other bag,
And bag it once more.

Three hundred yen limes?!
Three hundred yen celery?!
Of course they eat rice!

The escalator.
Seems like a wonderful place
To check my makeup.

To the businessman
Train ride seems so much quicker,
Reading cartoon porn.

Hunchbacked old woman,
Brings home daikon twice her size.
For night of passion?

Very old O-bachan,
Bent over in constant bow,
Baby sure got back!

All day long they bow.
But even when super drunk,
They don’t tip over.

Hey, a tanuki!
Check out its massive testies!
"Hungry for soba?"

Super-tanned raccoon girl,
Holding on to a corn dog...
Is that not sexy?

Big boss man looks on.
Sucks air through black, crook'ed teeth,
And coughs up a lung.

Oh, such cute children.
Watch how they run around and
Stick fingers up bums.

At bar, sipping beer.
Where, but only in Japan,
Would you say, "No Head!"?

Cheers,
Mb

The Beauty of a Vaginal Birth

Tip of the Cap

Okay, this had me absolutely gut-laughing. This guy is blogging his way through med school and the journey in becoming a doctor in "Ah Yes, Medical School". Very, very funny stories, including one about a particular birth he was privy to witness...

"Beauty" and "Miracle" are not two words I'd use to describe this little One-Act we humans have for giving birth. But I would really love to see Hollywood take on the real thing once in a while.

Wow.

Mb

Feeling Dirty in the Limelight

This past Sunday at 6:47 pm. (JST) I found myself staring into a bright spotlight, in a dining hall in front of about 30-odd people, toasting to the bride & groom with my best "Best Man's Speech". The only thing is, I wasn't anybody's Best Man, nobody had officially gotten married, and pretty much everyone in the room was a stranger to everyone else.

Okay, the explanation:
I know the event planner at the New Itaya Hotel, Mami Kato. (She's the hotel liason every year for the Tochigi Soccer Tournament). Anyway, she called me up a few weeks ago and asked me if I wanted to go to a fake wedding. Without thinking I said "hell yeah", because who really ever in their entire life gets a chance to go to a fake wedding? What a story it would make! And so here we go...

It was an actual wedding; you could've fooled anyone. They had a priest and there were vows and the organ player even knocked out that "Here Comes the Bride" tune as the newlyweds exited through a barrage of flower petals. (At vow time the couple even said "I Do", which somewhat creeped me out. What the shit is going on here, I thought this was gonna be a fake wedding...?!) After the ceremony we had the Reception, of course. It too was the real deal, complete with free wet bar, a delicious steak, 8 different pieces of silverware, an apricot wedding cake, champagne, live music, etc. Talk about surreal! All we needed was one drunk uncle and a spontaneous bout of the Electric Slide, and it would have been like every wedding I'd ever been to.

Okay, so the deal wasn't just to throw a fake wedding for the hell of it. The New Itaya Hotel offers wedding plans to soon-to-be-married couples. In fact, the 15 or so couples attending this audience-participation event were engaged and on the fence about choosing this hotel for their nuptuals and subsequent party. The hotel was showing them, in a very real way, what any couple's wedding day could be like, right down to the very last detail. It beats a photo album or shitty videotape anyday.

The "bride" & "groom" for the evening were professional models from Tokyo: one very, very skinny and very cute Japanese girl named Yuri (she looked like she had extensive work done on her teeth though - the best way to describe them would be "super white dentures that a T1000 would wear"), and a very-male-model-esque guy from Alabama named Coy (most definitely a "model name"). They were both done up in all that wedding garb noise, looking all bride-and-groom-ee. They even went so far as to continuously emote that "oh-rapture-I-am-so-drunk-with-joy-and-happiness-on-this-most-perfect-day" feeling in their muddled smiles. (Yeah, you could totally tell these two do fake weddings all the time.) They were actually in the moment, truly believing that they had just gotten married. Bizzare!

And there I was, trying hard to maintain that awkward suspension of disbelief, trying to act in the moment, as the Best Man at a wedding. I gave the speech, but it felt so weird and so uncomfortable. I couldn't get into character without feeling cheap! It felt dirty and dishonest and I know it shouldn't have. But I realized that I simply cannot act in front of people who know what you are doing is all an act. There goes that career option...(Maybe...keep reading.)

So I talked about how I've known the two lovebirds for a long time and I ranted on about endless love, (like I of all people really know anything about that!!). And to end it in true Michael-style, I told the "newlyweds" to get wild on their honeymoon and finished off the toast by chugging my champagne. I then returned to my table with a large beer and chatted with Mami while enjoying my scallop cream soup. My scene was Fin.

When the wedding reception was over I got to talking with Coy and his agent; he started going on about how "we should study together sometime" (what the hell, study what?!) and she was saying she wants to hire me out through her agency as a priest...("You are tall! You make good priest.") "What the f..?", I thought. "How many fake weddings do these people do?! Is this the meat of your work?! And why make me a priest?! Did your last one recently die or something?! Did he move on to become your agency's resident fake-Pope?!" I see, maybe in this industry you start out in the clergy, and after you've paid your dues you end up bumping nasties with half-naked Chanel models in front of some little Asian man with a black & white camera. That's the way the status quo crumbles in the world of the male model...perhaps.

I was flattered but let's face it, I'm no model. I'm the poster child for cigarettes and profanity, not PG-rated facial expressions and T-bag banana hammocks. But, I thanked them anyway and gave her my business card. Who knows, I might find one day find comfort in priest-modeling. If so you may one day see my holy mug on 'Bama-bound billboards and in syndicated religion magazines, toting the teachings of the frock as the World's Next Top Priest Model...as chosen by the one and only Sista', Tyra Banks.

...it seems the strangest opportunities, events and happenings always land in my lap. Without fail, seriously bizarre things happen to me and around me all the time. It's definitely an interesting ride being me...

Mb

Like, Language Changes

In a past post I commented how some people think silver is the new gold. Then I mentioned that gold should be the new silver...which in the end would simply make gold the new gold. Well here's another changing fad I've noticed.

"Actually" is the new "Like".

You see, a lot of talk used to be, like, peppered with that word. For example:
"Like, Becky like totally thinks that like, you like her, like..."

Now, in an effort to rid that heathen word from our curs'ed lexicon, some people are actually using the word "actually" a lot more than they actually should.

...just an observation.

Mb

Mind-Numbing Numbers

I remember a particular dream (??) I had back when I was a little kid...it's hard to explain, but I shall give it a go. At the time this one really fucked with my head.

It was the middle of the night and I woke up abruptly, sweating, and counting numbers in my head at uber-lightning speed. Not just any numbers, though; high quadrillion numbers, those with tens of zeros, numbers approaching the gogol realm, counting upwards continuously, one by one. I tried to focus on being awake, but it was futile. I kept falling back into an intense counting head space.

I eventually tore myself out from this number-counting frenzy, much like what one does when confronted with a bout of mild sleep paralysis, and eventually calmed down. I thought to myself, what the hell was that? The basic code of my programming? Final proof that I was, in fact, a cybernetic organism?

Anyway, enough of a side story, this one has to do with number puzzles, my favorite being that new craze that is churning out self-proclaimed geniuses like the plague: Sudoku.

It's Japanese originally: 数独, meaning "many alone", or "a number of singles"...whatever, the first character means "number" or "many", the second character means "alone", "singular" or "Germany"...but I doubt Germany has anything to do with this game.

The rules are simple: The numbers 1-9 go in each row, column and 3x3 square...now GO!

So, I must admit, they are a little fun, although they can also be "fist-through-