Asking why Crown Princess Masako had a nervous breakdown is like asking why they kept Emperor Showa on life support for so goddamn long. Subjugated people in general, but especially the Japanese, demand their leaders show a little frailty. Otherwise they'd never be on fucking TV.

Ah, fun with anagrams! Dick soiree (a phonetic interpretation) makes just about as much sense as Terios Kid spelled forwards.

A blogger killing her mother may seem like a fairly unremarkable event, in the wider scope of things.

Posting about it on her blog, however, is a significant variation.

Unsurprisingly, a lot of the photos I took in Thailand were of food. This was a spicy salad with sliced onions, cashews, peanuts, fried chilis, green mango, tamarind, fresh lemongrass, mint leaves and other assorted greens, topped with deep fried catfish. The roadside diner it was served at offered a spectacular view of the Chao Phraya river, and the broken platter only added to the authenticity of the food. It was so well done, the flavors of the salad would come in separate waves of sweet, sour, and spicy.

I don't know about you, but I'm salivating, and it's times like this when miso soup and a bowl of rice seem really, really boring.

I have decided that buddha photos are my amulet to protect against the CB haters. Took this one in Thailand last year.

I have two brick planters out in front of my house (approx. 1 ft. x 5 feet total planting space) where the future of Yoshida Papayas, Ltd., lies. Last summer, on a whim, Nam threw some papaya pits on the soil we've seen trying to enrich for the past few years (it was rock-hard dirt when we moved in), and much to my surprise, sprouts appeared after a couple weeks. By fall, they had grown into 3 foot saplings and sprouted very healthy and broad tropical leaves. I became quite fond of them because they looked so out of place in my old neighborhood; vibrant green in a sea of brown and aging wooden houses. I began referring to them as my "papaya forest," and cleared away all the other plants we had out there.

When the first frost came with winter, they perished in a very ugly fashion - eveything turned black and mushy, and I didn't even have to clear their corpses as they melted into the earth. I was sad. However, I have had similar experiences with jasmine and other warm-loving, beautiful, wimpy plants in the past, so I knew it was just a matter of trying again this year.

Since we already have learned to transfer the jasmine into pots and bring them in for the winter, I figure it should work just as well for the papaya trees, although they are a bit deeper rooted.

I asked my brother to transfer the papayas today, but I'm secretly hoping he forgets. I miss the feeling of dirt under my fingernails and the moist earth drying on my palms.

Just out of curiousity, how much of the 1000MB have you used?

(thanks to Osaka bill and Tom for my accounts; if there is possibly anybody left in the free world who still needs an invite, let me know)

Somebody on a mailing list I subscribe to just sent me an e-mail asking if I feel bad "for using the Buddah's (sic) name in vain" on my website.

I am at a loss for words, loser. Therefore:

Getting angry over heated mailing list postings is understandable to a certain extent, but grow the fuck up already, you little crybaby bitch. Or go weep into your pillow instead of biting it for a change.

Apparently only one-third of Americans say evidence supports Evolution. Of course, Japanese see proof of it just about every day:

It will be no surprise for anybody who has ever visited a Japanese hospital to find out that doctors really are sick fucks:

Now, after a year of apologizing for a necessary exam I think I?ve lost all shame in it. In fact, there are times when a rectal is really necessary and if I could stick my finger up the patient?s ass without even saying ?hello? I probably would.

Now, I say things like ?flip over, WE have to do a rectal examination? (As if he?s participating or maybe he gets to give me one afterwards). Or even better yet (snotty English accent) ?Oh intern, we need a rectal exam on Ms. D, would you kindly skooch on over there and do it??

I?ve found, strangely enough, that I usually connect much better with the patients whose assholes I explored. In a way, it brings us together. In a really sick, kind of demented way.

Rectals are also a great way to punish patients. At least the really annoying ones or those that try to take advantage of us. I?ve lied to patients before and spent an extra long few seconds checking out a prostate. Really checking it out. You now know why this blog is anonymous right?

Apparently, in New Zealand it isn't a crime to pickle kittens.

Does the willful ill-treatment law only apply for dogs?

When I first moved out here to Awajishima, I was as prepared for the lifestyle changes as one can be moving from the inner city slum that is Nishinari (the area of Osaka famous for its troubled history,especially the riots that occurred there in 1990) to a city with a total population of 40,000 (and like the rest of Japan, shrinking).

An early indicator of the trouble I would face here was the list of ten real estate agents my new company provided me. Upon calling every agent on the list, six were no longer in business, two told me there were no rooms to rent, and only the last two had rentals to show me. I ended up choosing the newest of the lot, a two-story lot house with enough space for a bachelor to assign specific roles to various upstairs rooms (i.e., "the not-yet-unpacked box room," "the walk-in closet," "the network vault/musical instrument chamber"). It it this last room that I am writing about today.

It started out with my 10baseT hub and hacked AirPort for sharing a dual ISDN connection plus a couple acoustic guitars: An old Yamaha (yes, the motorcycle company) and an even older Suzuki (yes, the violin company) with black flamenco strings. It quickly became home for a djembe, an ashiko, and several other "neighbor-irritants." It also featured subsequent network and internet connection upgrades, from 10- to 100- to 1,000-baseT, and the jumps from 1.5 and 8Mbps ADSL to 100Mbps FTTH, as well as the wireless jumps from 802.11b to enhanced b, g, a, and finally b/g/a. But I digress with this nerdy shit; I'm focusing on the musical stuff today (besides, all the network stuff is downstairs now since I pinched off the upstairs phone line to decrease line noise). Anyway, it was basically a couple stringed instuments and various drums, plus the usual assortment of blues harps, kazoos, etc.

It occurred to me this morning as I stubbed my toe on a koto that those first-level instruments have been multiplying like rabbits, and something must be done before they take over my house completely. You see, in five years they have steadily been overflowing from that single room to all other upstairs rooms, to the wide corner stair on my staircase, all the way down into my entry hall and into the computer/living room. In five years, on this desolate and remote island I have somehow acquired:
- One hand-carved sitar from Nepal (had to have one; I never play it but might put pickups on it)
- Two more Hohner Blues Harps (they get crusty with spittle if you don't clean them after playing drunk)
- One Chinese-made harmonica (playing this gives me more blues than the authentic Blues Harps)
- Various castanets and shakers (these all belong to Taro, who sheds/forgets musical detritus like this wherever he goes)
- Another mini hand drum (No fucking idea where this came from)
- A hand-made theremin (mail order from the states, a fucking rip off at $200)
- A Taisho-koto (for lack of a better explanation, a Japanese autoharp)
- Two full-size kotos (I like sleeping next to these because I can wake up, pluck a couple strings, and be happy for some reason, although I stub my toe on them all the time)
- 5 or 6 shittily-made wooden flutes with rainbow airbrushing which people think it's a good reason to buy in third world countries for like ten cents each and distribute as presents when they get home. Fucking tourist scum (thanks for the presents, y'all!).

Not that I can fucking play any of these instruments proficiently or actually read music or actually practice with my band or anything, but I figure as long as I have instruments and none of us dies, I can still claim we are a band... We are going to make a comeback like the fucking Eagles, dude (and barring that, at least like the Doors).

Dolphins Protect New Zealand Swimmers from Shark

The only thing that could make this story any better is if Gen got photos of it.

One of the curious things you may find as you venture deeper into the rural areas of Japan is the surprising number of Mormon missionaries. Of all the missionaries - including Rastafarians (on Ikoma mountain), Wiccans (in Okayama), and Jehovah's Witnesses (all over the damn place) - the Mormons are the easiest to spot because they fit a specific profile. Whether it be in front of the local department store where they cause expectant mothers to run away in (sometimes unfeigned) terror, or out on the streets late at night cruising in pairs on mountain bikes (and for some reason, always donning aerodynamic racing helmets wrapped with white reflective tape), they are invariably young white males in black suits, usually straight from - you guessed it - Salt Lake City.

Disclaimer: I hope you aren't offended by this rant. It happens to be about Mormons, specifically the branch of mormons I will dub the "Sumoto Mormons." When I was a kid we lived across the street from a Mormon family with 10 kids (which I'm told is like a royal flush in terms of Mormonic karma) who were hella fuckin' cool around the block because they had not one but TWO AND A HALF Ataris to play with in their home (the 1/2 figure was due to a buggy machine that only displayed the bottom half of the screen - useable for Centipede but not much else if I remember correctly). Therefore I do not hate Mormons, because they had the 2 1/2 times the toy I wanted throughout my formative years but could never convince my parents to buy - it turns out that I'm secretly jealous of them (whew, good to get that one off my chest!).

I am in a somewhat weird situation with the Sumoto Mormons right now. They assume I'm Japanese (I do look Japanese, but I'm AMERICAN AS HELL - somewhere in Yamanashi Prefecture, my Aussie pal John is rolling his bloodshot eyes and murmuring "bloody Yank!" - eat me, dood.), and I have used this assumption to create a new form of entertainment, "Sumormo baiting." A couple of months ago these guys approached me when I was returning home from a long walk, asking if I had a couple minutes to spare (in Japanese). Call me a devil, but my immediate response was to stop in my tracks, give them the once over with the trademark Japanese "gaijin gawk" (usually reserved for observing lewdly-costumed Russian dancers on Tokyo subways), say loudly, in English, "NO," and walk away. Fish on. After that, they waited for me on my street a couple other times at night, eagerly fingering paperback copies of the Book of Mormon, but I spotted them before they saw me and I ducked down the back street.

This morning they stopped next to me on their mountain bikes as I waited in my car at a red light. I was zoning out in pre-work zombie mode with my arm draped out the window, blasting track #2 on the Grey Album. The younger guy recognized me right away. "Hey! We'd like to speak to you sometime," he said, in English.

I tried to brush him off with a sarcastic, "Eigo wakarimasen" (I don't understand English), and noticed "JAMES" was wearing a plastic name tag with "Church of the Latter Day Saints" printed on it.

"But Elder Thomas said you were American" he replied.

Ah, shit. Got me there. Elder Thomas was the Mormon guy who was in Sumoto before these guys replaced him. I invited him in for a beer once and we had a nice long talk about things. I served him and his trainee dude green tea and felt curiously like a total fucking sinner for drinking beer in front of them. When they left, they gave me a copy of the Book (I ended up wondering if they were going to ask me to pay for it, which I also feel curiously guilty about. They said it was truly a gift and never asked for money, but did use the book as a reason to come by the house every month. Once, as a joke, I offered it as payment to the NHK guy who came around asking for money, but he made the sign of the cross and said, "devil, be gone."). So Elder Thomas had apparently told James about me and they had caught on to who I was from the street I lived on, apparently. Which does not explain why they never just came to my door (I must have successfully defeated the surveillance devices on the Book of Mormon by wrapping it in tinfoil, sealing it in a Ziploc bag, and sinking it in a bucket of water), but I digress. "Aight, you got me - I was just messing with you," I admitted.

"As I was saying, we would like to see you sometime..." he continued.

Well, that's that I guess. No way to wriggle out of this one - now that we have established that we are fellow Americans in a remote and desolate setting, an invite to the house is a virtual necessity. I invited them over at five this evening. Five this evening, as in, in approximately 5 minutes after I post this entry. From work. As in, I don't imagine I'll be going home for a few hours, at least. As in, I sure am glad my little bro will be at home to greet my new Mormon friends.

As in, Adam, I am finally getting you back for some rat bastard thing you did to me in the past that I can't specifically remember right now, but let's not let that get in the way of entertainment. Mine, specifically. This should be funny as hell. Will update later.

So was anyone else completely blown away by the message from Nick Denton to the mailing list? I'm very interested in seeing who will be chosen... Will it be one of the seasoned self-promoters who have seemingly sold all of our e-mail addresses to spammers and profess a genuine interest in Japan? Or someone who has already explored such topics as "gadgets, hentai, cars, and computer games?"

Either way, it should be exciting to see somebody I've at least heard of here writing on a more professional level, whatever that entails. I mention that because all of the Japan Bloggers I am familiar with are blogging strictly for the kicks, as far as I know. Not that there's anything wrong with that; it's what keeps the interesting blogs worth writing (and hence reading).

The Big Ho comes clean:
"I can't touch a woman's chest and enlarge her breasts just because she's asked the Lord for bigger titties."

That doesn't mean you should stop trying, man.

Meanwhile, get some (well-earned) sleep already.

The best music video of the year:
The Grey Video
I never knew Ringo could scratch!

This is of course the accompanying video to The Grey Album.

UPDATE: The link for the video is hosed, check out this waxy.org post for mirrors. LINK

When you are pulled away from your workstation by the ISO 14001 auditor for an impromptu interview, the correct response to the question, "Do you know your company's environmental policy?" is NOT: "Uhhhh... I dunno, dude, like, Save the Whales?" In fact, since this is Japan, this reply may not be interpreted as amusing at all.

Pray for me - I've been flagged to be interviewed tomorrow morning.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

No wonder Jaws had such gnarly anger management issues.

Volunteer line for the ASPCF starts here.

Update: "...and there he saw a mock. It wasn't a MOCK! It was a MOCK LOBSTER!"

Just like CS:Steam, Half-Life 2 can be supremely entertaining by just shooting random shit and seeing how it reacts in the game's physics. I'm making myself stop playing for the night, which is easier than it sounds.

The wonders of charcoal filtration as applied to bargain-bin vodka: Practical Applications of the Philosopher?s stone

Now the real question is, can the same principle be applied to screw-top wines? As far as I can tell, Japanese wine exists mainly for the "hopeless loser trying to impress a date" market.

D.M.C.:
You, jump, watch you clock, while I rock your spot
I'm better known to the world as the King of Rock
I like to speak my piece when I'm on the mic
I'm the best, or at least, I'm the one you like
And when I serve you deserve to hear what I say
I throw a curve he got the nerve to make a triple play
Now how devestating can an MC be?
My name is Darryl, but you can call me D,
HIT IT RUN!

(cue beatboxing)

//

PROBLEM:
Through a miracle of modern science, you were reincarnated as a pioneer of rap, called all your friends together for a showdown with your archrival, but then forgot to invite Biz Markie? Doug E. Fresh couldn't make it? And Rahzel called you wack?

SOLUTION

Here at the School, we like to keep tabs on notable places of worship that spring up around the web. These people are carrying the faith to new heights: RICE IS LIFE

Excerpts:
- Almost 3,000 million people share the culture, traditions, and untapped potentials of rice.
Three thousand million sure sounds like an awful lot... I think they forgot to carry the decimal when converting from yen or something.

- Even in nations "new to rice", its cultivation has changed landscapes...
This is probably a reference to the proliferation of lowered Toyota Camrys in nations that know no better (as opposed to those who do know better but lower them anyways).

- Along the Senegal River in West Africa, villagers greet guests with specially prepared rice dishes.
In professional forums, we refer to those dishes as "chrome hubcaps."

- In short, rice is life.
Amen, brothers.

Microsoft's best cheap shot at Google, utilizing their new (Improved! Economy-sized! 20% more inside, free!) search engine, is unsurprisingly lame:
more evil than satan
How original.

I see msn search is integrating reference answers with Web-page results. Gee, looks vaguely familiar, doesn't it?

In other news, Hotmail (who graciously decided to disable my account and erase my message archives spanning over five years for no good reason) has upped the usage limit to 250MB (someone must have realized that the previous single digit limit was - how do you say - oh, that's right, a fucking joke). Oh, well, without the comfort of the Gates mothership, I guess I'll just stumble along blindly with this "GMail" thingy then... Wait. What's that? They enabled free POP access you say?

Maybe I'll be OK after all. Whew.

The nicest thing I saw today.

Dave sent this to me today and I found it a nice break from the usual cheery images of the world's most famous blue cat robot.

Note: I showed it to T and he says it's been on sites like 2ch and in iMode chain letters for a few years.

Now that the excitement is over, I suggest everyone have a nice bit of something leafy, settle back, and relax a bit. The ultra-right gloating and the ultra-left whining is too much to bear. It's all about taking a middle path, dudes.

My surfing is limited to one page today:
http://news.yahoo.com/elections

refresh, refresh, refresh

Regular blogging here will resume when people (including myself) start to give a rat's ass again and can turn on the TV without compulsively flicking to CNN every 30 seconds.

Taken from a newsletter found in my inbox today:

Here are (sic) some advice from travelers who have been to Japan in the past:

"Do as Japanese do"

"Do as Japanese do?" No wonder I despise travel writers and guide books so fucking much. That's the laziest fucking advice I've ever heard.

I love the sweet smell of vindication in the morning. Now that we have them on the retreat, let us remember why it came to this, why we hates them so, my precioussssssss: LINK

Until this abomination is corrected and pirate grabassery is returned to its former glory, for us the song remains the same:
YO-HO YO-HO
UNPUSSIFY THE PIRATES FOR ME!