Out of all of the American fast food franchises in Japan, I prefer to go to Wendy's because it is relatively cheap, and their burgers are more palatable than the other option (McDonalds). I rely on the 150 yen menu, Japan's version of the 99 cent meal, . Using components from this menu, you can make some pretty badass combos:

Frosty Fries:
I can not take credit for this, as it sprung as a collective idea between me, my brother, and my sisters while cramped in the back of our Dodge Ram Prospecter, most likely headed to or from a vacation to Mammoth. Although counter-intuitive, the best way to enjoy french fries is dipped in a Frosty.

The Chili Bacon Cheeseburger-
Wendy's is the only place I know where you can make a Chili Cheeseburger in Japan. Unlike In-N-Out, you can not order this because they don't have a secret menu. You have to assemble it yourself.

Buy a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, extra packs of ketchup (not only does this improve the taste, but it also contributes to filling your stomach- something I was always trying to do in college), and a small chili. Load the burger with ketchup, and spoon chili on your burger with each bite. Not only is this a fun and less messy way to enjoy chili in your burger, but it maintains the integrity of the ingredients (doesn't sog up the bun or wilt the iceberg) until you are ready to eat them. Why doesn't Wendy's sport a Chili Bacon Cheeseburger already? I don't know, but they're missing out on a great untapped market with great potential.
The only other way to obtain a chili cheeseburger is to go to Mos Burger (although chili cheeseburger-esque, a mos chili cheeseburger's components qualify neither as "chili" nor as a genuine "burger") or to make it yourself.

If you happen to find yourself in Kumamoto City, craving some good genuine American food, drop into Masa's and you won't be disappointed (huge burgers and even locomoco!).

I'm on another business trip. It's late, I'm sweaty. In a suit. Wasted from a day of picking up on the subtle nuances of Japanese corporate doublespeak, flipping the sentences backwards and into another language, then funneling it down the client's ear.

Now I'm back at the hotel with several hours worth of work ahead of me and the shrill ring of an alarm clock not mine own to look forward to in the morn.

Time to sign off, folks, but before I go, let me give you the Buddha's One True Way to get an annoying fat gaijin perv in a middle management position to leave you alone and quit dropping hints like, "so what are Jap girls like?," and, "so what's the deal with those hostess clubs we passed earlier?" over a business dinner:

When he gets all drunk and alco-sentimental with your boss later on and lays pictures of his kids on the table, echo everybody's remarks about how cute they are and what a lovely family he has, then lean over the table and hiss, "God hates sinners."

Note: It's all in the

Well not quite, but the civic that I spotted on the streets of Osaka seemed pretty close to the one in True Crime: Streets Of LA (this game is pretty fun, and mixes genres from GTA and Max Payne pretty well, if you ask me).

On the streets of Osaka.

On the streets of L.A.
Put these kanji on your car, and gain the respect of the racing community.

Today I changed my car's registration from Nara to Kobe. I don't like the new number plates as much as the old ones - Kobe plates are a kind of status symbol in Kansai, much as Shinagawa plates are in Kanto. I have this nagging feeling that these plates might get me pulled over more often than the old Nara ones, although I can't really explain why, it's just a feeling I have (that I hope is never proved).

A few months ago I heard that Kobe plates illicitly exported from Japan were selling in LA for a pretty sum, mostly because of the Kobe Bryant case. In retrospect, I think the high price is justified; the process to get new plates in Japan is a colossal pain in the ass if you do it yourself (Most people just pay to have car shops do it for them; I did it by myself partly just to see if it was as a big a hassle as I imagined and I was not disappointed.)

The official guide to rice is posted in front of the rikuun (equivalent of DMV) in Kobe. I was there today to change my Nara plates to Kobe ones. It was a major pain in the ass.

Even though I've lived here on Awaji Island for nearly five years, I was registered at my friend's house in Nara until last month. Basically, there was no reason to change my address officially until this year, when the immigration laws got stricter, plus I fucking hate having to tell the government where I live just on principle...

Just one of the many pains in the ass involves re-registering my car out here (in Kobe, actually), and in order to do that, I need a shakoshomei, which is proof that you have an approved place to park. If you live in a house, this might be your driveway or garage, but if you rent an apartment, like I do, you have to provide proof that you are renting a space somewhere.

This is an incredibly irritating process that takes a trip down to the local police station at least twice, once to apply and once to pick up the actual document, which is issued after an inspector goes to visit the parking space you have specified in the application (you actually have to provide two maps, one of the parking space in relation to your home, and another, more detailed map of the parking area with dimensions, etc. Most people hand-draw this stuff, but I, uber-nerd, did the work in Illustrator - may post it later so you can come egg my Silvia).

Anyway, after this long, drawn out process had gotten to its final stage, I was ready to pick up the document late last week. Before work, I went to the police station (cue: oh happy day) with my trusty hanko (personal seal used in place of signature) only to be told that the guy in charge wasn't in. The fact that just speaking to the police in Japan - about just about anything, really - always puts me in the foulest of moods, only compounded my irritation at being brushed off because the designated desk jockey (and public fucking servant I might add) decided to make a run for the bento shop during normal operating hours. Whatever. I decided to jump through all the hoops when I decided to make the move out here official, so I sucked it up and went to work.

I didn't have time to go again until yesterday. I walked into the police station all pimped out in my spiffy work uniform (complete with nametag; this is a Japanese white-collar job, thankyouverymuch) and requested service at the desk. This time, the balding desk sergeant in charge was there (oh joy), fat ass parked firmly in a seat with a bead cushion draped over it. He looks over my approval forms, sees they're all in order, then announces to no one in general, "the window for processing shakoshomei is from 3 to 5 PM, please come back then."

Me: "fuck, as in what the?"

Cop: "3 to 5"

Me: "But there ain't nobody else here now! C'mon! "

Cop: "Morning hours are reserved for driver's license-related issues only - COME BACK BETWEEN 3 AND 5!"

Me: "THERE AIN'T NOBODY ELSE HERE - c'mon, cut me a break already. Pleeeeeease. Pretty please with azuki on the top."

Cop: "Ungh." (loosely translated: "wutevaaaa")

Grrrrr. So I had to take off work early and got back to the police station just before 5. As I approach the desk sergeant, who I swear has not moved a single fucking inch since I last saw him several hours before and is now half-heartedly playing with pencils and rubber bands, looks up at me, then glances at the clock, gathers the approval papers again and says, "hehheh, you made it just in time."

Motherfucker!

And as he stamps my hanko in the logbook and gives me the magic papers, he replies "I wouldn't have minded if you came in a little later. I'm here until 7:00 anyway."

I bit down on my lower lip, hard, and concentrated on quietly exiting the building.

As a good friend once put it, "why are cops such fucking cunts?"

UPDATE:

In Japan, there is a micro-subcompact class of cars known as "keijidosha," or simply, "K." Under current regulations their engine size is restricted to 660cc, and their appeal in this land of super expensive gasoline and narrow roads is fairly obvious. They are also cheaper than standard size cars, so it cracks me up when I see a lot of money put into their modification. This microbus mod has been getting more and more popular recently, and on my island alone, I have seen red, orange, yellow, black, tan, and lime green versions of it.

This proves that just about anybody can publish a book these days:
How to Date a White Woman: A Practical Guide for Asian Men

This is so pathetic on so many levels, I don't know where to start. I think the publisher can sum it up for us best:

Perfect to use as a reference, for dating, and for romantics everywhere, this book contains over 200 pages how to guide, on love, dating and relationship for the Asian man with a Caucasian woman.

Of course, what Asian men really need is a role model, like Rick James (I'm Ricky Yin, bitch!). But I'm not sure I wanna go there today...

Under the "Customers who viewed this book also viewed" section, one of my favorite books is listed: Hello My Big Big Honey!. Basically, this is the best title for any book I have ever seen, and the fact that I accidentally found this gem at a musty secondhand store in the dogshit slums of Bangkok only endears it further. I don't remember much about the story except that it was sad, but Adam wrote about it in a bit more depth here.

An excellent article on Takahiro Omori and the pro bass fishing scene in the US and Japan:
Bass Fishing in America

This weekend, when asked to describe a burrito to a SE Asian man (probably my future father-in-law, if such things matter), I described it as a "Mexican springroll." Sometimes I just have my moments.

That got me hungry, so I made fajitas for us all.

In the age of Teflon-coated, feng shui-infused, drop-forged-in-space cookware, cast iron griddles still kick ass. However, my newly-purchased titanium wok (purchased at Jusco, 2000 yen) positively 0wnzz0rs for black bean sauce stir fry, garlic chicken, and the assorted curry dishes I have tried cooking in it. It heats faster than steel and is light enough to perform street tricks with (I've tried the Jive Nelly and an inverse limp-wrist 720 sinkgrind-to-deadfish ollie fazer and although splattering myself with excess olive oil, actually managed to land both tricks! Don't try this at home, kids.). I also suspect it could be used as a conveyance back in time if one could be bothered to hook up some spare power lines to the clock tower one stormy night...

Fresh limes are the fulcrum of a kick-ass grilled meat dish.

Fresh limes often cost a dollar each in Japan, and are sometimes smaller than a "D" battery ("D motherfucker, D!").

The first person who correctly guesses the origin of the quote above gets a fajita in the mail; leave a mailing address in the comments as well as your meat preference (chicken, pork, or fugu).
*If you live outside of Japan, I'm sending it by surface.
**If you live in Japan, just come by the house sometime.

What is Nigari?
Nigari is a liquid extract left over from the processing of tofu.
Nigari is rich in minerals and is claimed to be an excellent dietary supplement.
Supposedly, the high magnesium content of nigari works in the intestines to block the absorption of fat into the body.
Nigari is claimed to be especially effective when taken with foods rich in B vitamins such as pork or mushrooms.
Nigari is poured over food before it's eaten; some people say it's tasteless, and others claim it's slightly bitter.
Nigari, in case you haven't figured it out yet, is a huge health fad in Japan.

I also think nigari is a damn good way for tofu companies to make money on what was once probably considered a waste byproduct. Maybe the health claims aren't so far off. Another byproduct of tofu manufacturing is okara, a substance very high in fiber and very good for you, which unfortunately smells and tastes like shit. An old friend of mine once told me that when she was a kid, a truck from a local tofu factory would come by her school every week to drop off free okara. The kids would all run away from it screaming because they hated eating it so much. But I digress. You are thinking, "what the fuck is J getting at?", and "hurry up and tell us more exciting tales of tofu." Okay, kids:

Today in the company cafeteria, I chose a seat near the windows, as always, so I could look at the birds in the trees and be extremely jealous of their carefree lifestyle, as always. I sit by myself because if its one thing I've learned over the years at a big Japanese company, it's that talking about work shit over lunch break doesn't feel like much of a break at all.

A group of guys from another section intruded on "my" table, and this ridiculously irritating hippie health-fad slave among them pulled out a bottle of nigari and started pouring copious amounts of it on each person's food, squealing in an incredibly annoying tone of nag, "try this out, it's NIGAAAARI it's TAAAASTELESS it's GOOOODFORYOU." When he got to the person who had sat down next to me, he accidentally poured some in MY bowl of miso soup (which I had taken off the food tray earlier and placed on the table between myself and the guy next to me). I was thinking, "what the fuck!", and probably went bug-eyed in disbelief, but didn't say anything at first (that's the old "fitting-in at overseas office" function kicking in). Actually, the whole table was kind of in disbelief that this dumbass had tainted my food. This is Asia; the unwritten rules are that you don't fuck with:
A. Another man's bowl of rice
- or -
B. Another man's bowl of soup
*curiously enough, main dishes and side dishes are fair game if you ask first OR the other person doesn't notice

So now we have a situation because homeboy has fucked with my bowl of hot fermented soybean goodness and is totally unapologetic. The fucker tells me, to the horror of his friends, its GOOOOD for you.

Ten years ago, this guy would have been eating teeth. Five years ago, he would have at least been wearing soup. Today, since I was in such a good mood, what with the birds in the trees and, admittedly, since I'm not nearly such an asshole anymore, I resisted the immediate urge to kill. Half of his friends were apologizing on his behalf while the other half told him to stop being such a dickhead, and I eventually agreed to let him buy me a new bowl of soup (his friends insisted on it). That was strangely embarassing, so when he went to buy it, I made a big show of licking my thumb and sticking it in his bowl of rice.

His friends went along with that just fine, and he never figured out why everyone kept giggling throughout the meal.

//

I suppose the moral of this story is, "You can take the man out of the asshole..."

CBFTW is back blogging in a big way. For those of you who don't know, he's running the best stationed-in-Iraq blog since Just Another Soldier got shut down (IMHO). Link:
MY WAR: Fear and Loathing in Iraq

Next round of shooters is on me:
Mexican tequila set to flood Japanese market under FTA

If I ever see another bottle of that Suntory-branded tequila stocked at a bar again, I'll bitch slap the barkeep. At least spring another couple bucks for a bottle of Cuervo Silver, if nastiness is your thing (it's imported by Suntory anyway). The Suntory brand stuff is pure pukejuice.

Watched the Professor Reynolds interview on the international version of CNN this morning. It was kind of short, but he ended by saying that CBS should own up to their mistake - it was a milestone for bloggers, IMHO. This is the first time I've seen something like this broadcast in Japan. This was the Paula Zahn show, by the way. She interviewed wonkette after that, but she was about as interesting as her site, as in "not."

In my inbox today:

"I think I'm going to vote Republican this year. The Democrats left a bad taste in my mouth."
- Monica Lewinsky

Now that's just crude. More, please.

USMC cargo helicopter crashes and explodes in crowded Okinawa city; three crewmen injured. Most significant backlash? Marines are criticized for allowing pizza deliveries through while blocking "Japanese police detectives, local political leaders and diplomats from Tokyo." Well, duh. US Marines could eat any of those for lunch, too, but pizza is boneless (as opposed to spineless).

The whole "Go back to Japan" remark puts things in an interesting light.

And:

"When Okinawans feel isolated from the central government, they rise," said Mr. Okamoto, now a lobbyist, as he recounted waves of anti-base sentiment since World War II. "It may be happening again."

I had hoped to point out the Living In Japan page after it got a bit bigger as another good resource for Japan-related blogs, but I'm not comfortable doing so until I find out why a Scissor Sisters fansite (no linkage for you - Bad Monkey!) is included in our aggregator as of today.

Via Yahoo Asia News: Japan to deploy armed police officers on U.S.-bound flights

I hope they pick the old judo bulls with "cauliflower ear" instead of those 90 lb weakling parking ticket sissies that putt around on Super Cubs.

The Guardian unveils the vampire Lazar, spokesartiste for La Mexicaine de la Perforation: Paris's new slant on underground movies

Personally, I think Ford should use the name Lazar for their new SUV and describe it as an "urban explorer." Hey, if I were Eminem, I would rhyme that with "anal inducer" (Ah, no wait, he's still stuck on rhyming "Slim Shady" with "slim shady").

And I think a better name for this article would have been:
Parisian Window Dressers and Massons Agree: Eraserhead Experience 100% More Subversive in Sewer Theatres

This article at Time Asia might as well have been titled "Why file sharing owns iTunes in Japan":
Where's the Music?

This article explains the reason I download MP3s with file-sharing apps instead of paying for them online (BTW, I purchase music I like, which is not really a justification but sounds kinda responsiblish).

If you are a BitTorrent user who downloads music, you probably know that TorrentBox, TorrentReactor, and SuprNova are great sites for finding what you want. Personally I like the Azureus client. If you are after Japanese music, there is no substitute for Winny2, but you better have a LOT of room on your hard drive if you use it. Sorry, I'm too busy to link right now, but these sites are all top results if you run a Google search.

I think the Japanese dude who put the spoiler on his BMW 740i should team up with the Chinese guy who installed donkey drive on his Beemer.

From the Guardian: In a secret Paris cavern, the real underground cinema

In my third year of university here, my pal T came back from a two year journey all over the world, most recently Paris, with a crazy gypsy girlfriend in tow. She had red hair and crooked teeth, and although I never caught her doing it, I swear she had a little bag of bones she would occasionally toss into the ashes with which to determine the alignment of Jupiter or tomorrow's chance of rain, or some such crap. Actually, she was pretty cool to hang out with because she made T act like a man sometimes, which is more than I can say for his sad, sorry, married ass now (sorry T, I call 'em as I see 'em). She eventually went back to France when her Japanese tourist visa expired, and I tagged along when Taro went to visit.

Imagine my surprise when I found out she was the most normal person in her entire group of friends (let me put it this way, I was even more surprised than T was when she came to met us at the airport with a totally new hairstyle - short hair now dyed black, with shoulder-length cornrow extensions she had done at an "African barbershop"). Her friends were essentially street kids. The night we got there, we rented a car and drove into the dark heart of the city to look for them on unmarked sidestreets. We found them in squatting at some funky construction site, accessible only by climbing under a chain link fence marked with the French equivalent of "No Trespassing." It was a reunion with old friends for T, and I got to know everybody quickly. It was a true ghetto party, complete with trash can fires and sticky balls of black sin smuggled fresh from Nepal. At some point the whiskey ran out and bottles of wine were produced, only to reveal that nobody had a corkscrew, So someone brought out a hammer and the rest of the night was spent eating cold merguez sandwiches and gingerly sipping from bottles with broken necks (when I said ghetto, I meant it).

The reason any of this pertains to the link above is that I recall a conversation regarding the catacombs beneath the city. You see, T's friends had this squatting stuff down to a science. Apparently, after buildings are condemned in certain disticts of Paris, they are essentially fair game for a whole year. They aren't torn down, and the police don't kick out squatters. So these kids were moving to freshly condemned buildings from year to year, although if picking got slim, they could always sleep "below the city." At the time, I thought they were joking, but I guess the spooky catacombs are only a part of a huge tunnel network they have there... Dim lighting and gloomy rooms painted with religious symbols, eh? All I can think is, that sounds awfully like the Mines of Moria. My inner geek is urging me to find out what T's ex is doing these days - that would be an awfully cool trip.

So what say you, T? There's nothing like calling up an old flame out of the blue on behalf of a good friend's inner geek, is there?

I'll bring the corkscrew this time.

There's a great article about soldiers fishing in Iraq over at the ESPN site:
Fishing Saddam's Waters

Excerpt:

"We've heard that Saddam only allowed his family (tribe) to fish these lakes. All others (caught fishing) were put in jail. When Palace Lake was drained (searching for weapons), they found over a hundred dead bodies in the lake." (No wonder the fish were big!)

We don't target yummy species because we just want to enjoy fishing for the sake of fishing. It's a self-fulfilling luxury provided by the advent of supermarkets, ya know?

Clear or yellow-colored lenses (aka "ambers") are one of my pet peeves, because it all seems so high school. I think Options magazine is at fault for popularizing this trend in the states as well as Japan (although I cannot truly disparage this holiest-of-holy publications). I remember my Acura Racing Club pals ordering these parts from Japan for their Integras. That was ten or fifteen years ago, so when I see how many middle-aged men put them on their cars now, it makes me kinda sick. Grow the fuck up already, ya know?.

I think I understand what the creaters were going for. GooDiet is meant to be one of those concepts that takes two (or more) words and splices them together to create a third, previously unknown hybrid. Fugly, fantabulous (coined by Del tha Funky Homosapien), vurp (Tim Allen), and supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (Mary Poppins) are all good examples of hybrid words that have become, to some extent, part of our lexicon. However, GooDiet is different. Clearly, whoever came up with GooDiet was trying to impart to the consumer that the product was both "Good" and useful if you are on a "Diet". Their splice came out as a Frankenword.

Now, I do think that a diet composed of goo would be an effective diet because no one would want to consume more goo than necessary to function. However, why pay for something that is advertised to be a disgusting product? With so many other options of gel-based squeeze pouches out there (a few include Vaam, Aquarius, and Qoo) I doubt that the Japanese consumer will choose GooDiet as the space-Jello that they will replace their meals with. As for me, I prefer Jello in bite sized squares. Eating Jello through a straw is for people recovering from jaw surgery.

Although me and mine (thx Kev) were unscathed, I saw a lot more damage around town as I drove to work today than I thought there would be. Some roads were being repaired, with fallen trees and bicycles being removed first, then the actual paved surfaces being refilled in areas. As seen above, many cars can be seen with broken windows patched over by cardboard or trash bags. In the gravel parking lot I use for work, there were piles of window glass and shattered sideview mirrors all over. I feel kind of sorry for the owners of the cars, but they really should have known not to leave their cars there during a massive typhoon. Around town, many store windows were broken, and - thankfully! - my neighbor's annoying-as-hell wind chime appears to have been blown away.

Typhoon #19 never even touched us as far as I can tell, so we came out just fine this round. Everybody is really nervous about the next big earthquake, though.

Everything is OK.

It's very close now. Nothing much to report, except that the neighborhood strays are fighting for porch space.

If you are in Japan during a major disaster and need a place to evacuate, do not blindly follow the people in front of you - they are just as lost and clueless as the people in front of them. Follow the homeless, they know the best places to go. Today they are sprawled all over the massage chairs on display at Jusco, our local department store.

The company is making us go home at an unprecedented 2:00 in the afternoon so you just know we are in for a real beating. I haven't been this happy since the fifth grade... Just waiting for that bell to ring...

In other news, there was another magnitude 4 earthquake here this morning. It feels like the world is going to end, and all I can think about is the recess bell.

Even more news from our future host country this week:
Follow the Leader: Israel and Thailand set an example by arming teachers.

Thailand has followed Israel's lead by allowing school teachers in the troubled southern areas to pack guns at school. I think this is a great idea - who better to keep our children safe at school than their teachers? When I was young, my dad went to a lecture by Mel Tappan (he recorded it on cassette and I think it's still in the garage somewhere), and brought back a paperback copy of Survival Guns. I believe that book addressed the issue of school shootings and teachers who packed firearms being the solution to "looney gunmen with AK-47" scenarios (but it might have been a different book; it was a long time ago). A lot of what I know about guns I learned from reading that book from end to end perhaps three or four times overall. My dad was obviously influenced a lot by him as well, as can be seen by the contents of our gun safe at home. I guess I speak of this fondly now mostly because here in Japan, guns are just a fading memory (except for airsoft of course). I now basically go shooting only during visits back home, or on trips to foreign countries.

I wasn't aware that Thailand was so strict regarding firearms. I've been to gun ranges there (and admittedly got gouged with those heinous ammo prices - then again, for being able to try out an Anaconda, a SPAS-12, and an M-16A2, it was worth it), and my girlfriend's dad apparently has several pieces in the bedroom for home defense. One time he apparently scared the shit out of a guy searching for lizards (to eat!) in the middle of the night. The guy was using a flashlight and when Nam's dad saw the beam flash by his window, he opened it, pointed a gat at the guy and yelled "who the fuck are you!" The guy went home lizardless and perhaps in need of new shorts. (Now that's my kind of father-in-law.)

Nam's brother is going to some military academy in Bangkok as a continuation of his time spent in military training, so perhaps he can get me some range time once in a while. If worst comes to worst, I can get my cordite fix at a pay range somewhere in the vicinity. Whatever happens, I'll have more of a chance then than I do now, that's for sure. And that's a good thing.

Since the last time I read Survival Guns, things sure have gotten fucked up for gun owners back home... I remember being shocked on a trip home a few years back because of the 10-round capacity limit for spare mags. That there's some stupid shit. I heard that this eventually caused a shortage in supply for the hi-cap mags used for the US military's M-9 Beretta - troops manually stretching out magazine springs or using ten-rounders because there were no good replacements available. That's unforgivable in my mind.

How I ended up writing about all this gun shit, I have no idea. I think it must have been building up inside for the past ten years in kamikaze-turned-pacifist land. My term here is almost up, so I'm looking forward to being able to hold something more reassuring than my Spyderco when things go bump in the night (although edged weapons are perhaps more suitable in case of ninja attack).

//

This post was a product of my inner gun nut.

*Props to James Rummel for posting about the National review article.

As a wannabe chef, I might have thought about making a submission to the Carnival of the Recipes #3, a showcase for recipes from all around the blogosphere, but got pretty miffed when I saw the introduction at the top of the page:

This week, we have a lot of great recipes to choose from. I am adding a rule, though - The Carnival of the Recipes will not link to any recipes involving household pets or horses, I don?t care if you live in France or Korea!

I can understand people being uncomfortable with what is eaten in other countries. Perhaps your tastes different from, say, the Marmot's. But to specifically name countries (okay, specifically Korea - I don't give a fuck what anyone says about France anymore and yes that's my own prejudice speaking) kinda puts people off I think - well, then again the author says she "doesn't care" so maybe I'm raising this issue for naught... I guess I care. It sounds too much like a dismissal of foreign food and culture. That's kind of ironic since the author claims that she loves that they "are getting recipes from people all over the world." So we can pretty much define "their" worldview as excluding cultures that eat horses or animals that Americans consider "pets" (a challenge in itself - I've had friends back in the states with pet cows, chickens, fish, sheep, and pigs, among other "acceptable edibles"). I find this a shame, because I really would have liked to share a recipe in the Carnival forum.

Note: If the author ever reads this post (and why should she; I'm a proud fucking nobody!), please do not construe this as a personal attack. I think I know what you were saying; it wasn't a big "fuck you" to the rest of the world but rather a statement of what you are comfortable with, and I can accept that. I just needed to point out that it sounded kind of harsh from my current station overseas.

UPDATE: Check the comments. I feel really bad about writing this post now, but it would be wrong to take it down. I thought about this for a while, then I replied to Beth and John by e-mail and apologized. My recipe is for humble pie, but I'll be damned if I can make it the same way twice... The only constant is swallowing your pride first.

The earthquakes passed and the gigantic wall of water ala Lucifer's Hammer never came... But someone's must be doing an effective rain dance because there's another goddamn typhoon due to hit tomorrow - the weather this year seems intent on beating the shit out of us here.

There was a magnitude 5 shaker in Wakayama earlier this evening when we were in a liquor store - all the stacks of bottles started moving back and forth, which was not the most reassuring of circumstances. A large aftershock came about five minutes ago... It was also a mag 5 but it felt a lot stronger here and they're predicting tsunamis this time. There's an emergency broadcast running in English and Japanese... Our little island should be okay. My place is half a mile from the coast so we should be cool. The shitty thing about living on an island is that it isn't covered in the news... They predict tsunamis in Wakayama, Mie, and Kochi, and we live somewhere in between that plot. I guess that's what air raid sirens are for (well, that and North Korean missile strikes). Cell phone lines are congested so I can't get through to friends in Nara. Interestingly enough, land lines are working just fine - so to people who don't use hard-line phones at home anymore, now's a time to reconsider.

Shit, now they're telling everyone living "near the coast" to evacuate. Is that very responsible for an island nation? Then again, we sat though The Endless Summer II yesterday and I have absolutely no interest in finding out what a 20 foot wave looks like coming down my street.

These pics are from last year. We pulled into a highway reststop in the Thai countryside and were delighted to find a young entrepeneur selling coconuts from the back of his slammed pickup:

When I say slammed, I mean, look at that hydraulic kit!

Check out the custom paint job - glittery goodness! And the gold door handles are to die for!

Matching gold grille job... This guy probably accessorizes better than his girlfriend!

I just liked this frog. He had this attitude like, "come TRY and step on me motherfucker!" and I was all like, "No, I'm faux-Buddhist when I visit Southeast Asian countries. Must not kill living things! (except for those damn mosquitoes)"

This isn't a good picture, but you can clearly see why I hate ordering draft beer in Japan sometimes. Where many would argue the aesthetic value of a 70/30 (in this case 50/50) beer to head ratio, I would say that it looks good in a commercial but otherwise I want a full glass of beer. If I saw this in America, I would conclude that the bartender set the CO2 pressure on the tap too high and ask for another. Whoever poured this beer needs to learn how to tilt the glass sideways when they're pouring, or be put in charge of working the bottle opener.

Creamy wasabi dipping sauce??? No thank you.

So I suddenly got to thinking about the little black kitty I rescued a few months back, because, well, I miss him (BTW, the name Yoda stuck). I realize that I perhaps never related his ultimate fate here (a true catblogger I shall never be - hurray!). He was accepted as carry-on luggage when my sister went back home, and he now lives with Adam's cat, Boo, and my dad's little anklebiter dog, Jak, at our home in Fountain Valley, CA (AKA Pleasantville - a city so nondescript it's often chosen as a relocation site for the FBI'S witness protection program).

I still haven't posted my pics from my trip down to Kyushu (upon review I found them to be a bit -ahem! - disappointing) in July, but the trip was memorable as I went for the sole purpose of passing Yoda off to my little sis, and basically carried him in my arms everywhere I went. Girlfriend did not accompany me on this trip, so it was kind of nice basking in the glory of cute cuddly one-eyed glory afforded by the little rascal (A message from Justin's auto-disclaimer circuit: It was nice in the sense that I could appreciate how a single, unattached man would have enjoyed such attention), especially since I discovered there's not a whole lot of places that will kick you out for holding a cute ball of fuzz to your chest, even if they have "No Pet" signs. It's kind of embarassing, but at the Japanese pseudo-mall, I would walk into a store and feel like a cool guy for Having the Coolest Toy, the kind Not for Sale in most stores.

Anyway, cut to the Kikuchi gorge, which is a beautiful, well, gorge - with a river running through it where people go to hike and take in nature in its purest (in Japan, anyway) form. The majority of people who visit this place - at most - take a daypack with drinks and snacks, except for the occasional nerd photographer that takes a huge camera bag, tripod, and other geekcessories w/obligatory yellow NIKON tags on everything (don't even say it - I only took my consumer-grade Coolpix and a lens cloth). I took great pride in only packing in a kitten (had my little bro carry the backpack). So I'm in "Got a Kitten for the World to See" mode, hiking the trails and making people happy when they see me, when I come to a narrow part of the trail and stop to let people coming down pass. The last person in the gaggle is a withered old lady in a sunhat and Chanel shades, holding a ferret in her arms.

Suddenly aware that the cool factor of my kitten has dropped several degrees, I awkwardly try to start up a conversation with the stupidest opening line I can think of: "Is that a ferret?"

She answers, "yes." (I can just picture those ancient eyes rolling up behind those Chanels.)

I try another angle; for some unconscious reason I need somehow to steal this venerable pair's thunder, but am apparently ill-equipped in the wit department on this particular day: "Nice weather today, isn't it?"

This does not even elicit a response and I can picture the words "jesus hurryupandgetthe FUCK OUTTA MY WAY!" written all over her face.

Yoda, who had been asleep during the hike, wakes up and starts wriggling around in my arms. He wakes to find an extremely interested predator staring straight at him from two feet away. There is a moment frozen in eternity when I can see the ferret is about to pounce - which I use as a chance to escape up the trail, away from the demonic obachan and her pet hellhound. To be quite honest, I don't know who was more upset, me or the cat, but I pet his head as we retreat, mumbling "must stay away from eeevil ferretses, gollum - they only wants tasty kitten gutses!"

In retrospect, that kitten was a blast to carry around. I have a feeling I could stop using underarm deodorant, if I only had a puppy. Hell, with a baby I could stop wearing socks...

Hmm...

ASCII art translation of Kill Bill:
http://disappointment.com/randomacts/ascus/killbill/page01.htm

props.

I guess the only thing that can beat that Japanese fruit carving site is the Spam Carving Contest.

FEER has an exclusive interview with deserter Charles Jenkins:
Four Decades in North Korea

Props, props.

I just wrote an entry about kyushoku, or school lunch, on Higo Blog. I would have to say that the school lunches that I had in Ubuyama were much better than the school lunches back in SoCal, but you can't really compare soggy burgers wrapped in foil paper to rice and a broiled slice of mackerel. Then again, in high school I could buy personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut. Those pizzas were about the same size as Japanese pizza, more filling, had real pepperoni and sausage (instead of this mayonaisse and corn bullshit! WTF is up with that???), and cost only 3 bucks!

The worst things about school lunch in Japan that I have experienced:

The small candied fish served on top of rice.
Liver stew.
Pickled hotaru ika (firefly-squid).

Now they're just fucking with me:

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The best protest sign, ever:
http://www.deanesmay.com/posts/1094017927.shtml

A most important question was asked in the comments of an older post today:
Does kimchi come in packets? As in, single-serving condiment-sized packets? And, if not, why not? (I suspect that a "single serving" of kimchi varies too greatly from person to person.)

Readers, especially those from the land of stinky fermented vegetables (no, not France - wrong veggies!), please help. I want to hear how the local Mc Donalds has started serving up double cheeseburgers w/kimchi like the way I described in the post linked to above.

I spotted this truck when I was hitchhiking through Nagasaki, but had only one chance to shoot it (cutting off some of the rear) as it rounded the corner and hauled ass to the expressway. I really like this trucks like this. The owner obviously loves it and takes great pride in it, as he should. I love seeing vehicles that are used as giant canvases. Whenever people are stuck in traffic next to this guy, his truck is sure to give them something interesting to contemplate for a while.

This truck reminds me of The Porkchop Express from Big Trouble in Little China for some reason.

I thought this kind of shit only happened in Amsterdam:
WRHA hands out free crack pipes

Crack fiends are people too, eh?