For some reason (you can work it out for yourselves) on Friday nights I'm overcome by the impulse to recommend stuff. It's usually music, but tonight it's literature. Yes, contrary to popular belief, we Kyklopes read from time to time. And no, I'm not going to recommend that you read something you were likely already forced to read in high school or at university (although, if you're honest with yourselves, most of that stuff was probably pretty good).
I'm going to recommend three short stories by Harlan Ellison. Some of you will probably know the name, at least. He's pretty famous in the world of SF. Imagine Ray Bradbury's antithesis. Here are the names of the stories: "The Beast That Shouted Love at the Heart of the World", ""Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman", and (probably the best title of anything, anywhere) "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream".
Whaddya think?
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Friday Skiving Off Work Video: Patrick Stewart on Extras
The final part of our Star Trek triptych. An extra on a film set wants Patrick Stewart to look at a script he's written. Worth viewing, if only for the punch at the end...
I want to control the world with my mind...
I want to control the world with my mind...
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Of Men and Mothra...
My friends often ask me, "Kyklops, why the fuck do you think about Japanese monsters so much? Why do you draw inspiration from them, and why do they form the basis of your personal outlook on life?" Well, I have no answer for them. And besides, what kind of friend asks a guy questions like that, anyway?One thing has been gnawing away at me lately, though: what kind of weird shit is it to have a monster that's a fucking giant moth?
General Tachibana: Monsters resembling Godzilla have been seen in the United States...
Soldier one: Wasn't that Godzilla?
Soldier two: The Americans said it was Godzilla, but all the Japanese scientists denied it.
--from Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (2001)
Please enjoy Mothra being killed by Ghidorah...
Greek of the Week
Just because I can...
More in the days ahead...
...ὁ δὲ μὴ δυνάμενος κοινωνεῖν ἢ μηδὲν δεόμενος δι᾽
αὐτάρκειαν οὐθεν μέρος πὸλεως, ὥστε ἢ θερίον ἢ θεός
One who is unable to live in a community, or does not need to because he is self-sufficient, is no part of the polis, and is therefore either a beast or a god.
--Aristotle, Politics 1253a27-29
More in the days ahead...
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Sometimes You Can Fool All of the People
The man responsible for the video below has been captured and killed by the Japanese Secret Police. His memory will live on, however, for he has exposed one of the biggest hoaxes ever to be perpetrated on an unsuspecting world.
Watch, and learn about the real Japan...
Who's laughing now?
Watch, and learn about the real Japan...
Who's laughing now?
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Enough, Already...
It seems not a day goes by that I don't come across a headline from somewhere bemoaning "Japan's rising nationalism". Here's one today, "Japan's rising nationalism may isolate it in East Asia" by Francis Fukuyama in which the usual "dirt" on Japan and its alleged goals of world domination is carted out: Yasukuni Shrine, Japan's failure to accept responsibility for its actions during the war, Shintaro Ishihara, and Japan's wish to revise Article 9 of its constitution (which forbids it from having a military).
It may come as a shock to the idiots penning these little diatribes, but not one these things is evidence of "rising nationalism" in Japan, and the last one (regarding the constitution) is just plain laughable. Yes, the Japanese government would like to have a "real" military, just like every other country in the world. Wow! The Japanese government would like to protect itself, to fulfill its obligations as a member of the UN, to step out into the real world. Absolutely appalling.
Now, there's no doubt that the first three items are troubling, but again, they hardly constitute proof of some dangerous upturn in nationalism. Japan has more than its fair share of "apologists" and "deniers", and some of them are in powerful positions. This is, however, hardly a uniquely Japanese phenomenon. Nor is this pre-war Japan, but rather it is a democratically governed country. To anyone who spends more than five minutes here it's as clear as day that typical Japanese are so peace-loving that most of them are against changing the constitution (a constitution that, by the way, was written by Americans with American interests in mind).
Do the people who write these articles ever even bother to read any of the major papers here? Is there evidence in the editorial pages that Japan is beginning to bang the drums of war? Of course there isn't. (Anyone looking for overt signs of nationalism might be better served checking some of the major dailies of South Korea and China.)
Enough, already.
It may come as a shock to the idiots penning these little diatribes, but not one these things is evidence of "rising nationalism" in Japan, and the last one (regarding the constitution) is just plain laughable. Yes, the Japanese government would like to have a "real" military, just like every other country in the world. Wow! The Japanese government would like to protect itself, to fulfill its obligations as a member of the UN, to step out into the real world. Absolutely appalling.
Now, there's no doubt that the first three items are troubling, but again, they hardly constitute proof of some dangerous upturn in nationalism. Japan has more than its fair share of "apologists" and "deniers", and some of them are in powerful positions. This is, however, hardly a uniquely Japanese phenomenon. Nor is this pre-war Japan, but rather it is a democratically governed country. To anyone who spends more than five minutes here it's as clear as day that typical Japanese are so peace-loving that most of them are against changing the constitution (a constitution that, by the way, was written by Americans with American interests in mind).
Do the people who write these articles ever even bother to read any of the major papers here? Is there evidence in the editorial pages that Japan is beginning to bang the drums of war? Of course there isn't. (Anyone looking for overt signs of nationalism might be better served checking some of the major dailies of South Korea and China.)
Enough, already.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Saturday Night's Alright
Disturbance Rocks Downtown Miyazaki
March 26, 2007 (Miyazaki)--Police are still trying to determine what sparked a disturbance in the downtown area during the wee hours of Sunday morning, amid reports of young women ripping off their clothing and running through the streets crying "Kyklops is teh shit!" The source of the disturbance appears to have been a small downtown bar operated and frequented by some of the less savory foreign elements in Miyazaki, and police have confirmed that on the night in question there was a live performance by a trio of Miyazaki's most notorious gaijin low-life. One of these characters, who is known only by the pseudonym "Kyklops", was placed on Japan's "most wanted" list last year when witnesses reported that he had stepped into a tatami room without first removing his shoes. He faces the death penalty if convicted of these charges, but to date police efforts to bring him into custody have been futile.
It is alleged that at some point during the trio's performance several young women began to swoon, clutching at their bodies and ripping their clothes off. "We're investigating the possible involvement of illegal substances," police spokesman Taro Suzuki told reporters. "What else could incite such behaviour in beautiful young Japanese women?" he added.
Anyone with information related to this incident or with knowledge of the whereabouts of the suspect "Kyklops" is urgently requested to contact their local police representative.
March 26, 2007 (Miyazaki)--Police are still trying to determine what sparked a disturbance in the downtown area during the wee hours of Sunday morning, amid reports of young women ripping off their clothing and running through the streets crying "Kyklops is teh shit!" The source of the disturbance appears to have been a small downtown bar operated and frequented by some of the less savory foreign elements in Miyazaki, and police have confirmed that on the night in question there was a live performance by a trio of Miyazaki's most notorious gaijin low-life. One of these characters, who is known only by the pseudonym "Kyklops", was placed on Japan's "most wanted" list last year when witnesses reported that he had stepped into a tatami room without first removing his shoes. He faces the death penalty if convicted of these charges, but to date police efforts to bring him into custody have been futile.
It is alleged that at some point during the trio's performance several young women began to swoon, clutching at their bodies and ripping their clothes off. "We're investigating the possible involvement of illegal substances," police spokesman Taro Suzuki told reporters. "What else could incite such behaviour in beautiful young Japanese women?" he added.Anyone with information related to this incident or with knowledge of the whereabouts of the suspect "Kyklops" is urgently requested to contact their local police representative.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Friday Skiving Off Work Video: Closer to Amok Time!
The video below, as far as I'm concerned, is all YouTube needs to justify its existence. Brilliantly conceived and executed, chilling but hilarious, Kirk and Spock, music by Nine Inch Nails... need I say more? Please enjoy!
Please wash your hands and have a beer.
[Originally viewed at Multi Medium.]
Please wash your hands and have a beer.
[Originally viewed at Multi Medium.]
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Pervert in the Playgound?
I had a bit of an unsettling experience yesterday while playing with my daughter at a local playground. We'd been there for a couple of hours and it was just about time to go home for dinner. The playground has the usual assortment of stuff for kids to climb and swing on, including a kind of miniature "rock climbing wall" (similar to, but not quite the same as this). My daughter wanted to go up this "wall" one more time before we went home. She's recently been successfully overcoming an initial fear of climbing, so I told her to go ahead without paying too much attention. She was about 3/4 of the way up when one of her feet slipped and she found herself hanging by just her hands with her feet scrambling for some support. Before I could help her she let go and slid down the surface of the "wall". On her way down one of the "rocks" caught her right between the legs. (I have no idea what this feels like for a girl/woman, but I know that if it'd been me I'd have been writhing on the ground and possibly vomiting.)
She'd landed on her feet, and when I asked if she was OK she didn't say anything and didn't seem affected at all by what had just happened. She walked a few steps around the wall and then stood facing its "underside" (i.e. out of "public" view). I joined her there and, kneeling down to her eye-level, asked again if she was alright. She started crying then, and collapsed into my arms. "It hurts," she cried. "Where does it hurt, honey, show me," I said (like, I think, any other parent in this kind of situation). She promptly stood straight, hiked up her skirt, pulled down her underpants and, pointing, said "here". Freeze.
At that moment I became acutely aware that I was in a semi-hidden area of a playground with a 4-year-old girl who was showing me her private parts. I groaned inwardly as I thought about how this must look to someone who happened casually to glance in our direction. I hesitated briefly while a battle raged in my mind between "keeping up appearances" and looking after my daughter. Then I checked for blood or any other obvious signs of injury. There were none that I could see, so I pulled her underpants back up and straightened out her skirt. I asked if she was OK to walk to the car and she told me she was. "OK, sweetie," I said, "let's go right home and we can let Mommy have a look to make sure you're alright. OK?" (My wife, aside from being a woman, is a nurse.)
As we left the playground I was aware of being watched by a few people, who seemed to have very concerned looks on their faces. I have no idea if they'd witnessed my daughter's accident and were simply worried about whether or not she was injured, or if they were wondering if I was some kind of pervert and were worrying about their own children. I'll probably never know. My daughter is OK, though.
She'd landed on her feet, and when I asked if she was OK she didn't say anything and didn't seem affected at all by what had just happened. She walked a few steps around the wall and then stood facing its "underside" (i.e. out of "public" view). I joined her there and, kneeling down to her eye-level, asked again if she was alright. She started crying then, and collapsed into my arms. "It hurts," she cried. "Where does it hurt, honey, show me," I said (like, I think, any other parent in this kind of situation). She promptly stood straight, hiked up her skirt, pulled down her underpants and, pointing, said "here". Freeze.
At that moment I became acutely aware that I was in a semi-hidden area of a playground with a 4-year-old girl who was showing me her private parts. I groaned inwardly as I thought about how this must look to someone who happened casually to glance in our direction. I hesitated briefly while a battle raged in my mind between "keeping up appearances" and looking after my daughter. Then I checked for blood or any other obvious signs of injury. There were none that I could see, so I pulled her underpants back up and straightened out her skirt. I asked if she was OK to walk to the car and she told me she was. "OK, sweetie," I said, "let's go right home and we can let Mommy have a look to make sure you're alright. OK?" (My wife, aside from being a woman, is a nurse.)
As we left the playground I was aware of being watched by a few people, who seemed to have very concerned looks on their faces. I have no idea if they'd witnessed my daughter's accident and were simply worried about whether or not she was injured, or if they were wondering if I was some kind of pervert and were worrying about their own children. I'll probably never know. My daughter is OK, though.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Grappling with Google and Gay Porn
More Google oddness...About four years ago, in the earliest days of this blog, I wrote this post about the Great Sasuke, a masked pro-wrestler here in Japan who had been elected to a local prefectural assembly (making him the first masked legislator in history), and who soon after had been accused of appearing in a porn movie (masked, of course).
One of the people quoted in this story was a Japanese porn star, "Meatball" Yoshino [Link DEFINITELY NSFW!!!]. Being a goofy kinda guy, I found this guy's nickname to be absolutely hilarious (and I'm trying not to laugh about it as I write this). Anyway, when I was writing the article I desperately wanted an image of "Meatball" Yoshino, but I couldn't find anything that wasn't pornographic, so I settled on just linking to this image [NSFW!!], which (like the previous link) is from some kind of Japanese gay porn site.
Now what's funny is that the original post is so old that I think every link in the story has gone stale, except the pornographic one. What's weird is that Google is sending people to my site [SFW as long as you don't click to enlarge!] to view the image that I linked to but didn't post in the original story. You've seen this type of page before if you've ever searched for images with Google: "Below is the image in its original context on the page..." But the image was never on my page, just a link! Weird.
The result of all this is that I've been getting a steady flow of page hits for this image that I never posted. I have no idea what the people who arrive here are using for search terms (I suspect something like "gay Sasuke" or "gay Japan", but those are only guesses).
It's at a time like this, dear readers, where I feel duty-bound to renew the pledge I made just a few short months ago:
I, Kyklops, hereby do solemnly swear to my loyal readership that I shall:
--never make gratuitous posts about "Nude Japanese Girls!!!"
--generally refrain from any mention of "Japanese Pornography!!!" (except in the context of stories dealing with "Strange Sexual Habits of the Japanese!!!")
--never write the phrase "Japanese Girls Want Your White Ass!!!"
To this I now add the following: I shall never post "Images of Big Japanese Cocks!!!".
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Recommended Listening
Yeah, I know, I'm usually going on about the Stones, or death metal, or some other crap that "civilized" people don't listen to these days. I like other stuff, too. Chances are, I have better taste in music than most (including you!). With that in mind (and assuming you're still reading), I'd like to recommend some albums that anyone with a half a brain should like. [Note to self: it's perhaps possible that people don't like being told they have bad taste in music. Heh, nah, it's never bugged me!]
Lucinda Williams-West: In the game of pigeonholing so popular amongst music "fans", I guess Lucinda Williams is "country and western". Just like Patsy Cline. Right. Don't be confused. This is probably the best album you'll hear this year.
Espers-Espers II: A 2006 release, this goes down as one of the "prettiest" albums I've ever heard. [I'm not prone to using the word pretty outside the context of girls/women. Don't make a big deal of it and I swear I won't beat the shit out of you.] It's also one of the most "haunting" albums I've heard in a while [see info for "pretty"]. Imagine Joni Mitchell (on downers) as a member of the Velvet Underground...
Butthole Surfers... oops! That's right, I said music for everyone...
NOMO-New Tones: Another 2006 release, this is music you can play at a party with no fear whatsoever of appearing "dorky". Until last week I thought "afro-beat" was some kind of watered-down reggae. Then I heard Fela Kuti and Antibalas and NOMO. Afro-beat is basically jazz being bounced back from Africa with a bit of funk and (just a hint of) reggae. It's upbeat, smart, and (I think) great music for a party.
I'd be interested in your opinions about these albums/artists, positive or negative. Comment me!
Lucinda Williams-West: In the game of pigeonholing so popular amongst music "fans", I guess Lucinda Williams is "country and western". Just like Patsy Cline. Right. Don't be confused. This is probably the best album you'll hear this year.
Espers-Espers II: A 2006 release, this goes down as one of the "prettiest" albums I've ever heard. [I'm not prone to using the word pretty outside the context of girls/women. Don't make a big deal of it and I swear I won't beat the shit out of you.] It's also one of the most "haunting" albums I've heard in a while [see info for "pretty"]. Imagine Joni Mitchell (on downers) as a member of the Velvet Underground...
Butthole Surfers... oops! That's right, I said music for everyone...
NOMO-New Tones: Another 2006 release, this is music you can play at a party with no fear whatsoever of appearing "dorky". Until last week I thought "afro-beat" was some kind of watered-down reggae. Then I heard Fela Kuti and Antibalas and NOMO. Afro-beat is basically jazz being bounced back from Africa with a bit of funk and (just a hint of) reggae. It's upbeat, smart, and (I think) great music for a party.
I'd be interested in your opinions about these albums/artists, positive or negative. Comment me!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Resistance Is Futile
"Daddy, can I be sick again next week?"
"Sweetie, why do you want to be sick again?"
"So you can stay home from work and play with me again."
"Sweetie, why do you want to be sick again?"
"So you can stay home from work and play with me again."
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Papers, Please! (Fiction)
"Yes, W___-sensei, your application for employment at M___ University is almost complete. We just need one more piece of documentation."
Damn. He'd already been teaching here for two weeks and they still weren't finished with their little game of paper-chase. In the past month he's had to get letters of confirmation from every place he's worked since graduating university. He's had to give them copies of his degrees and his high-school diploma, copies of his passport, visa, and "gaijin" card, letters from the city office confirming his place of residence, copies of his wife's family registry and his daughter's birth certificate, a note from his embassy confirming that he wasn't a wanted fugitive, three letters of recommendation, copies of his published work and his Master's thesis, a detailed report of his general physical health, a short essay outlining his "teaching philosophy", a copy of his driver's license, and various and sundry other bits of useless paper. What could the bastards possibly want now?
He took a deep breath.
"Yes, S___-san, what is it that you require?"
"Well, W___-sensei, you say in your application that you were a part-time teacher at M___ University for two years, but we have yet to receive any official documentation for this."
"I... what?"
"You say in your application that--"
"Yes, yes, I heard you. But this is M___ University. I worked here for two years as a part-time teacher."
"... yes?"
"Well, does this university really need official documentation from me to confirm that I worked here?"
"Yes, W___-sensei, we do."
"I see. Doesn't that strike you as being a bit absurd?"
"How so, W___-sensei?"
"How so? Well, is there any doubt that I worked here?"
"None whatsoever, W___-sensei."
"Do you believe that I worked here?"
"Of course, W___-sensei."
"Well, what exactly is the problem?"
"It's the regulations, W___-sensei."
"The regulations? What about the regulations?"
"The regulations, W___-sensei, state that we must have official documentation of all prior employment."
"Well, fine, then. Who do I see about getting the required documentation?"
"Me, W___-sensei."
"You?"
"Yes, W___-sensei."
"Well, for goodness sake, S___-san, can you please give me a copy of the required document?"
"I can't, W___-sensei."
"What? Well, why not?"
"It's against regulations, W___-sensei."
"Against regulations? But I thought you said the regulations require that I have documentation showing that I worked here."
"They do, W___-sensei."
"And you said that you were the person to see about obtaining such documentation."
"I am, W___-sensei."
"Well, for Christ's sake, man, what is the problem here?"
"It's the regulations, W___-sensei."
"Will you please stop talking in circles!? Let me get this straight. The regulations state that I need documentation."
Yes, W___-sensei."
"You're the person to see for this documentation."
"Yes, W___-sensei."
"But it's against regulations to give me the documentation."
"That's right, W___-sensei."
"Strange as it seems, S___-san, I think we're getting somewhere."
"I'm happy you feel that way, W___-sensei."
"S___-san?"
"Yes, W___-sensei?"
"Why is it against regulations for you to give me documentation which shows that I worked at this university in order to complete the application for a job at this university?"
"Because you've already started working here, W___-sensei."
"I... what? Because I've already started working here?"
"Yes, W___-sensei."
"I don't understand, S___-san."
"The regulations state, W___-sensei, that the documentation you require cannot be given to anyone currently employed by the university."
"I see."
"Indeed, W___-sensei."
"Well, S___-san, what are we going to do about this?"
"I don't know, W___-sensei."
"No ideas?"
"None at all, W___-sensei."
"I see... S___-san?"
"Yes, W___-sensei?"
"Come... closer."
"What?"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you... or kiss you."
"Oh?"
"No. I have an idea. I don't want to be overheard."
"Well... OK."
"Now, S___-san, do you agree that we have a shared problem here, in that the regulations state both that I need the documentation in order to work here and that you can't give it to me because I already work here?"
"I'd say that's a fair assessment of the situation, W___-sensei."
"Well then, S___-san, I propose that we do nothing."
"Nothing, W___-sensei?"
"You heard me. Nothing. If you don't tell anyone that you didn't receive the documentation from me, I won't tell anyone that I didn't receive it from you. You see where I'm going with this?"
"Well... this is highly irregular. I'm not sure--"
"For Pete's sake, S___-san, think about it. Do we really want to bring this... this contradiction to the university's attention? Christ, things are tough enough for me around here as it is, being a gaijin and all... and you, you seem to have a good thing going here... you want the university to notice you?"
"Well, W___-sensei, when you put it like that..."
"That's the spirit! Now, are we agreed? Is my application complete?"
"Yes, W___-sensei, everything seems to be in order here!
"Great! See you around, S___-san!"
"Oh, W___-sensei, one more thing..."
"Yes?"
"Wecome to M___ University!"
Damn. He'd already been teaching here for two weeks and they still weren't finished with their little game of paper-chase. In the past month he's had to get letters of confirmation from every place he's worked since graduating university. He's had to give them copies of his degrees and his high-school diploma, copies of his passport, visa, and "gaijin" card, letters from the city office confirming his place of residence, copies of his wife's family registry and his daughter's birth certificate, a note from his embassy confirming that he wasn't a wanted fugitive, three letters of recommendation, copies of his published work and his Master's thesis, a detailed report of his general physical health, a short essay outlining his "teaching philosophy", a copy of his driver's license, and various and sundry other bits of useless paper. What could the bastards possibly want now?
He took a deep breath.
"Yes, S___-san, what is it that you require?"
"Well, W___-sensei, you say in your application that you were a part-time teacher at M___ University for two years, but we have yet to receive any official documentation for this."
"I... what?"
"You say in your application that--"
"Yes, yes, I heard you. But this is M___ University. I worked here for two years as a part-time teacher."
"... yes?"
"Well, does this university really need official documentation from me to confirm that I worked here?"
"Yes, W___-sensei, we do."
"I see. Doesn't that strike you as being a bit absurd?"
"How so, W___-sensei?"
"How so? Well, is there any doubt that I worked here?"
"None whatsoever, W___-sensei."
"Do you believe that I worked here?"
"Of course, W___-sensei."
"Well, what exactly is the problem?"
"It's the regulations, W___-sensei."
"The regulations? What about the regulations?"
"The regulations, W___-sensei, state that we must have official documentation of all prior employment."
"Well, fine, then. Who do I see about getting the required documentation?"
"Me, W___-sensei."
"You?"
"Yes, W___-sensei."
"Well, for goodness sake, S___-san, can you please give me a copy of the required document?"
"I can't, W___-sensei."
"What? Well, why not?"
"It's against regulations, W___-sensei."
"Against regulations? But I thought you said the regulations require that I have documentation showing that I worked here."
"They do, W___-sensei."
"And you said that you were the person to see about obtaining such documentation."
"I am, W___-sensei."
"Well, for Christ's sake, man, what is the problem here?"
"It's the regulations, W___-sensei."
"Will you please stop talking in circles!? Let me get this straight. The regulations state that I need documentation."
Yes, W___-sensei."
"You're the person to see for this documentation."
"Yes, W___-sensei."
"But it's against regulations to give me the documentation."
"That's right, W___-sensei."
"Strange as it seems, S___-san, I think we're getting somewhere."
"I'm happy you feel that way, W___-sensei."
"S___-san?"
"Yes, W___-sensei?"
"Why is it against regulations for you to give me documentation which shows that I worked at this university in order to complete the application for a job at this university?"
"Because you've already started working here, W___-sensei."
"I... what? Because I've already started working here?"
"Yes, W___-sensei."
"I don't understand, S___-san."
"The regulations state, W___-sensei, that the documentation you require cannot be given to anyone currently employed by the university."
"I see."
"Indeed, W___-sensei."
"Well, S___-san, what are we going to do about this?"
"I don't know, W___-sensei."
"No ideas?"
"None at all, W___-sensei."
"I see... S___-san?"
"Yes, W___-sensei?"
"Come... closer."
"What?"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you... or kiss you."
"Oh?"
"No. I have an idea. I don't want to be overheard."
"Well... OK."
"Now, S___-san, do you agree that we have a shared problem here, in that the regulations state both that I need the documentation in order to work here and that you can't give it to me because I already work here?"
"I'd say that's a fair assessment of the situation, W___-sensei."
"Well then, S___-san, I propose that we do nothing."
"Nothing, W___-sensei?"
"You heard me. Nothing. If you don't tell anyone that you didn't receive the documentation from me, I won't tell anyone that I didn't receive it from you. You see where I'm going with this?"
"Well... this is highly irregular. I'm not sure--"
"For Pete's sake, S___-san, think about it. Do we really want to bring this... this contradiction to the university's attention? Christ, things are tough enough for me around here as it is, being a gaijin and all... and you, you seem to have a good thing going here... you want the university to notice you?"
"Well, W___-sensei, when you put it like that..."
"That's the spirit! Now, are we agreed? Is my application complete?"
"Yes, W___-sensei, everything seems to be in order here!
"Great! See you around, S___-san!"
"Oh, W___-sensei, one more thing..."
"Yes?"
"Wecome to M___ University!"
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
All the Comforts of Home...
One of the things I truly love about my life here in Japan is the office I have at work. It's got just about everything a man with time on his hands could desire. It's spacious, it's got a view, and the amenities, well, they're to die for! What, you think I'm joking? I'm dead serious, friends. Japan places a great premium on maintaining the appearance of being busy while actually doing nothing, and the best way to appear to be busy is not to "appear" at all! I don't come out of my office all day (except to attend meetings), so I must be busy! And since the diligent "worker" is expected to be "busy" in his office all day, he might as well be comfortable. Allow me to show you what I mean.
My office has a very large window affording a lovely view of the parking lot. (Hey! There's my car! It's the blue one in the middle of the "top" row.) And you know, on clear days I can actually see the ocean from here! Sometimes I just stare out the window for hours on end...
As you can plainly see from the shot below, my "work" area is spacious and comfortable. The university has spared no expense providing me with the means necessary to do my job well: a computer with broadband internet connection, a fax/phone, a color printer, and all the office supplies I can pilfer!
My office also comes equipped with it's own portable stereo, complete with CD/MD/Tape /Radio functions. And, what better way to use my broadband connection, printer, and office supplies than to provide myself with a little music to help make the hum-drum of the work day a little more enjoyable!?
As a university "professor" I'm expected to be well-informed about what's happening in the world and in my special area of "expertise". I'm provided, at no expense to myself whatsoever, with any reading materials I desire.
Of course, on that rare occasion when someone actually comes to see me with a question, it's only fit and proper that I have the necessary reference material at my disposal. Can't have those pesky students tripping you up with some trick spelling or grammar question!
Care for a hot or cold drink? A snack? Need to wash up? Not a problem! (I'm still angling for a way to get coffee covered by my office budget...)
And finally, after a long day of blog--, er, working, sometimes I feel like taking a little nap. Looks inviting, doesn't it?
Yes, indeed. I sure love my office!
My office has a very large window affording a lovely view of the parking lot. (Hey! There's my car! It's the blue one in the middle of the "top" row.) And you know, on clear days I can actually see the ocean from here! Sometimes I just stare out the window for hours on end...
As you can plainly see from the shot below, my "work" area is spacious and comfortable. The university has spared no expense providing me with the means necessary to do my job well: a computer with broadband internet connection, a fax/phone, a color printer, and all the office supplies I can pilfer!
My office also comes equipped with it's own portable stereo, complete with CD/MD/Tape /Radio functions. And, what better way to use my broadband connection, printer, and office supplies than to provide myself with a little music to help make the hum-drum of the work day a little more enjoyable!?
As a university "professor" I'm expected to be well-informed about what's happening in the world and in my special area of "expertise". I'm provided, at no expense to myself whatsoever, with any reading materials I desire.
Of course, on that rare occasion when someone actually comes to see me with a question, it's only fit and proper that I have the necessary reference material at my disposal. Can't have those pesky students tripping you up with some trick spelling or grammar question!
Care for a hot or cold drink? A snack? Need to wash up? Not a problem! (I'm still angling for a way to get coffee covered by my office budget...)
And finally, after a long day of blog--, er, working, sometimes I feel like taking a little nap. Looks inviting, doesn't it?
Yes, indeed. I sure love my office!
Friday, March 09, 2007
Satan Lives!
After finishing the previous post I decided to do a bit of "satanic" googling in an attempt to get to the bottom of this Satan character (and to beat a dead horse just a bit more). Let me tell you, people, I was shocked at what I found. Satan, it appears, is indeed alive and well and exerting a palpable influence in the world in which we live (er, as opposed to the one in which we don't live... anyway, onwards!). Below you will find actual news stories in which Satan figures prominently!!! Behold evil and its manifold, er... manifestations!
The stupid: Pope Benedict XVI says "all rock music is the work of Satan" and opposes the use of guitars in mass. [Thanks Glenn.]
The obvious: Britney Spears is "Satan Crazed". [Thanks Chez.]
The usual: A BBC poll has found that Israel is Satan's bastard child.
The shocking: Satan is real and global warming is the myth.
The contradictory: Satan is behind global warming.
Da bomb: Satan is an ICBM, and has been targeting the US for the past 20 years.
The chosen: Ann Coulter has been named as Satan's Great Whore for 2007.
The stupid: Pope Benedict XVI says "all rock music is the work of Satan" and opposes the use of guitars in mass. [Thanks Glenn.]The obvious: Britney Spears is "Satan Crazed". [Thanks Chez.]
The usual: A BBC poll has found that Israel is Satan's bastard child.
The shocking: Satan is real and global warming is the myth.
The contradictory: Satan is behind global warming.
Da bomb: Satan is an ICBM, and has been targeting the US for the past 20 years.
The chosen: Ann Coulter has been named as Satan's Great Whore for 2007.
Satan Is Dead!
Umm, well actually he plays for the New York Islanders...
Like (I think) most bloggers I frequently check my stat pages and I'm sometimes amused and/or puzzled (and one time a bit disturbed) by how this or that particular search phrase brought someone to my site. One search item that has been a regular source of page hits usually contains the words "Satan" and "images". (The thought of someone scouring the web looking for pictures of Satan is enough to make me cackle with glee!)
Now, aside from my stated fondness of The Rolling Stones, I don't think there's anything particularly "satanic" about this blog. So, what is it that brings these seekers of Satan to my blog? Behold, the final resting place of Satan:
Satan was a dog, a black Labrador Retriever, and he was the faithful pet of one of my uncles. I took this photo while visiting the "old country" (Nova Scotia) a few years back. While I was saddened to hear of poor old Satan's passing, I was greatly amused at this image of Satan's grave site, and I incorporated it into this rather silly post back in the early days of this site.
So, all you denizens of darkness seeking a glimpse of the cloven-hoofed one's image, get thee behind me!
[Say, do you think that by posting the image again I might actually increase the page hit count? Aw, shucks...]
Like (I think) most bloggers I frequently check my stat pages and I'm sometimes amused and/or puzzled (and one time a bit disturbed) by how this or that particular search phrase brought someone to my site. One search item that has been a regular source of page hits usually contains the words "Satan" and "images". (The thought of someone scouring the web looking for pictures of Satan is enough to make me cackle with glee!)
Now, aside from my stated fondness of The Rolling Stones, I don't think there's anything particularly "satanic" about this blog. So, what is it that brings these seekers of Satan to my blog? Behold, the final resting place of Satan:
Satan was a dog, a black Labrador Retriever, and he was the faithful pet of one of my uncles. I took this photo while visiting the "old country" (Nova Scotia) a few years back. While I was saddened to hear of poor old Satan's passing, I was greatly amused at this image of Satan's grave site, and I incorporated it into this rather silly post back in the early days of this site.
So, all you denizens of darkness seeking a glimpse of the cloven-hoofed one's image, get thee behind me!
[Say, do you think that by posting the image again I might actually increase the page hit count? Aw, shucks...]
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Low-tech/High-tech (?) Screen Grab...
I don't know if there's anything unique about it or not, but I seem to suffer from a double curse--I'm both easily bored and easily amused, sometimes (or so it seems) simultaneously. Today, in a fit of boredom, I started thinking about "alternative" uses for my cell phone. (I've found this to be a good time-killing activity in the past, devising alternative uses for things.) This was a particularly challenging task because cell phones here in Japan already do damn near anything you can imagine. (I've mentioned before that mine has a setting which which allows the phone to emit the sound of maracas when shaken. This has been a source of endless amusement for me in the past, a fact which perhaps gives you a bit more insight into my character than you might have wished for.) I thought the camera function might be a fruitful area to explore, so I turned it on. As I panned the phone/camera around my office my computer monitor came into the viewscreen. Eureka! I've been trying for months to figure out how to do a screen capture with XP. Here was the answer! And the sheer symmetrical beauty of this solution, somehow both low-tech and high-tech at the same time, why, it was overwhelming...... as somebody once said, it's not easy being me...
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Sun, Sky, Clouds, Mountains, Flowers, a Burial Mound... and a Dork with a Camera
I haven't posted any photos for a couple of weeks, so here are a few from a "Sunday drive" outing I took with my family yesterday.
A burial mound in Saito.
Clouds, mountains, and flowers (nanohana).
An island, of sorts.
A mountain on a cloudy day.
The sun through some clouds.
A dork with a camera.
Untitled, Pt. 2 (Fiction)
Gerry's apartment was upstairs from a downtown restaurant we all used to hang out at. One night, around midnight, me and Gerry were sitting outside on the steps that led up to his place. We were both stoned and drinking beer in paper bags. We were talking about the latest Sabbath album, comparing it to earlier albums and debating whether or not it was a good or bad thing that they'd started using more keyboards. We noticed a guy stumbling up the street toward us. As he got closer I realized that I recognized him. When I was a kid there had been a small church in my neighborhood. It was always empty through the week, but on Sundays these yokels from the countryside would drive into town, file into their church, and proceed to sing songs and scream things like "praise the lord!" and "Satan, get thee behind me" and a bunch of other stuff. The guy stumbling up the street had been one of their kids about the same age as me. We'd assumed he was drunk when we first spotted him, but as he got close we could see that he was white as a sheet. He was holding his right forearm. We asked if he was OK, but his eyes were all glassy and he just gaped at us. He stumbled and had to let go of his arm to grab a parking meter to keep from falling down. Blood started gushing from his other arm as he did that, and he fell to his knees. Somebody'd cut him pretty badly. We took him to the hospital in Gerry's beat up old VW, but Gerry bitched for weeks about the bloodstains on the seats.
-----
He's 15 and it's only a few days before he starts high school. It's a Friday night, and he's sitting in an alley between a couple of dumpsters. He's drunk. He'd poured a little bit of booze from each of the bottles in his old man's liquor stash into a plastic Coke container and smuggled it out of the house. He's been here for a couple of hours now, drinking the booze, smoking cigarettes, and thinking about things. A couple of guys walk into the alley to take a piss and they notice him. They see his bottle and tell him to hand it over. He tells them to fuck off. They beat the shit out of him. He wakes up in jail.
-----
Gerry was a terrible driver, and driving anywhere with him behind the wheel was generally a white-knuckle ride into terror. I say "generally" because when Gerry was on the glue he drove like a little old lady out for a Sunday drive. One night me and a couple of buddies arrived at Gerry's place for an evening of drinking and getting high (and, of course, listening to Black Sabbath, although Gerry had been a bit "out of sorts" since Ozzy had quit the band). When we arrived Gerry seemed a bit tense. He said he was going out for smokes, but that we should go in and hang out until he got back. We understood that he must have run out of glue, and that he was going out to pick some up. Apparently, on his way to the hardware store Gerry hit a woman with his car while she was crossing the street. The woman was killed instantly. None of us ever saw Gerry again.
-----
He's 16 and it's been a few months since he quit school. It's the middle of the day, it's hot, and he's completely fucked up. He's sitting on the steps that lead up to some apartments above a downtown restaurant that he and his friends hang out at. He's just thrown up all over the steps and the sidewalk. People walking by are looking at him with disgust. He's studying the needle mark on his arm and the puke all over his sneakers and jeans, and wondering if he's ever felt this bad. He sees a shadow approach and stop in front of him. He looks up into the face of some old guy with a concerned look on his face. The geezer stares at him for a moment and then tells him that he lives upstairs and asks him if he wants to go up and get cleaned up. He lets the old guy lead him up the stairs.
"What's your name, kid?" he asks. He tells him his name.
"OK, cool. I'm Gerry... You like Sabbath?"
-----
He's 15 and it's only a few days before he starts high school. It's a Friday night, and he's sitting in an alley between a couple of dumpsters. He's drunk. He'd poured a little bit of booze from each of the bottles in his old man's liquor stash into a plastic Coke container and smuggled it out of the house. He's been here for a couple of hours now, drinking the booze, smoking cigarettes, and thinking about things. A couple of guys walk into the alley to take a piss and they notice him. They see his bottle and tell him to hand it over. He tells them to fuck off. They beat the shit out of him. He wakes up in jail.
-----
Gerry was a terrible driver, and driving anywhere with him behind the wheel was generally a white-knuckle ride into terror. I say "generally" because when Gerry was on the glue he drove like a little old lady out for a Sunday drive. One night me and a couple of buddies arrived at Gerry's place for an evening of drinking and getting high (and, of course, listening to Black Sabbath, although Gerry had been a bit "out of sorts" since Ozzy had quit the band). When we arrived Gerry seemed a bit tense. He said he was going out for smokes, but that we should go in and hang out until he got back. We understood that he must have run out of glue, and that he was going out to pick some up. Apparently, on his way to the hardware store Gerry hit a woman with his car while she was crossing the street. The woman was killed instantly. None of us ever saw Gerry again.
-----
He's 16 and it's been a few months since he quit school. It's the middle of the day, it's hot, and he's completely fucked up. He's sitting on the steps that lead up to some apartments above a downtown restaurant that he and his friends hang out at. He's just thrown up all over the steps and the sidewalk. People walking by are looking at him with disgust. He's studying the needle mark on his arm and the puke all over his sneakers and jeans, and wondering if he's ever felt this bad. He sees a shadow approach and stop in front of him. He looks up into the face of some old guy with a concerned look on his face. The geezer stares at him for a moment and then tells him that he lives upstairs and asks him if he wants to go up and get cleaned up. He lets the old guy lead him up the stairs.
"What's your name, kid?" he asks. He tells him his name.
"OK, cool. I'm Gerry... You like Sabbath?"
Friday, March 02, 2007
Untitled, Pt. 1 (Fiction)
When I was in my late teens and early twenties, about 30-35 years ago, I knew this guy named Gerry. Gerry was about 40 or 45, and he used to let me and my buddies come up to his apartment and drink beer, smoke dope, drop acid, whatever. Gerry was a serious glue-sniffer. He was always shoving a bag of glue into his face and then offering the bag to anyone who happened to be around. Me and my buddies used to joke about Gerry's "generosity" with his $1.98 tube of glue. Aside from his somewhat unhealthy habit of sniffing glue though, Gerry was a pretty good guy. Sure, he was kinda an old fart, but he let us hang out and he never tried to fruit us up or anything. Another important thing to know about Gerry is that he was the ultimate Black Sabbath fan. It was a bit weird watching this geezer sniff his glue and then totally space to Sabbath but, like I said, he was an ok guy.
-----
He remembers when he was 13. "Don't hold it too close to your face," Nancy said. "It" was a plastic bag with lighter fluid at the bottom. He held it to his face and inhaled... way too fucking deeply. Lighter fluid gushed into and through his entire breathing apparatus, his mouth, nose, throat, and lungs. It seemed to land like a flaming bomb in his stomach. He may have gotten "high", but he would never really be quite sure. He puked. A few weeks later large flakes of skin appeared on his scalp and, strangely, around his ass hole. He'd been poisoned, but he never realized it. It only lasted a few weeks, so he never told anyone about it. He would never hold a plastic bag to his face again.
-----
One night we were at Gerry's and we were all completely out of it--we'd all been drinking and smoking, and Gerry, of course, was on the bag. A knock came on the door. Gerry opened the door and there was a friend of ours, Mary, with 3 or 4 black guys. Gerry let them all in, so now there were about 10 people in his one-room apartment. We'd been listening (of course) to Sabbath before this arrival, but right away the black guys wanted to change the music. I was too wasted to give a shit, but my buddies put up a mild protest, which was slapped down by Gerry. "Play what you like," he said. The black dudes stuck in a James Brown tape. Yeah, this is ok, I thought. Later, Gerry wondered (to me) how Black Sabbath became "black power"...
-----
He's 14 and he's dropped his first hit of acid, the night before the first day of school. It's his "first time", so it's a completely subjective experience for him. There's nothing to measure it against, nothing to compare it to. He can't analyze it and he wouldn't care to even if he could. Colors. Colors rushing to him, colors rushing from him. There's a vague ache in his gut. He's walking down the street, and he sees some older girls. He thinks they're very pretty. One of them says, "nice ass"! He doesn't quite understand, but thinks this might be good. He's only 14.
continued...
-----
He remembers when he was 13. "Don't hold it too close to your face," Nancy said. "It" was a plastic bag with lighter fluid at the bottom. He held it to his face and inhaled... way too fucking deeply. Lighter fluid gushed into and through his entire breathing apparatus, his mouth, nose, throat, and lungs. It seemed to land like a flaming bomb in his stomach. He may have gotten "high", but he would never really be quite sure. He puked. A few weeks later large flakes of skin appeared on his scalp and, strangely, around his ass hole. He'd been poisoned, but he never realized it. It only lasted a few weeks, so he never told anyone about it. He would never hold a plastic bag to his face again.
-----
One night we were at Gerry's and we were all completely out of it--we'd all been drinking and smoking, and Gerry, of course, was on the bag. A knock came on the door. Gerry opened the door and there was a friend of ours, Mary, with 3 or 4 black guys. Gerry let them all in, so now there were about 10 people in his one-room apartment. We'd been listening (of course) to Sabbath before this arrival, but right away the black guys wanted to change the music. I was too wasted to give a shit, but my buddies put up a mild protest, which was slapped down by Gerry. "Play what you like," he said. The black dudes stuck in a James Brown tape. Yeah, this is ok, I thought. Later, Gerry wondered (to me) how Black Sabbath became "black power"...
-----
He's 14 and he's dropped his first hit of acid, the night before the first day of school. It's his "first time", so it's a completely subjective experience for him. There's nothing to measure it against, nothing to compare it to. He can't analyze it and he wouldn't care to even if he could. Colors. Colors rushing to him, colors rushing from him. There's a vague ache in his gut. He's walking down the street, and he sees some older girls. He thinks they're very pretty. One of them says, "nice ass"! He doesn't quite understand, but thinks this might be good. He's only 14.
continued...
Friday Afternoon Skiving Off Work with William Shatner
Well, it's late Friday afternoon and I'm in my office, diligently doing nothing remotely useful. Yes, I'm feeling creative, and what better way to show off my creativity is there than posting a bunch of YouTube clips? Dear readers/viewers, I give you the greatest Canadian ever, William Shatner!
I guarantee that you won't see this every day:
Thrill to the horror of satanic ritual!
Tingle with excitement at the succubi sisters!
Look on with bewilderment as William Shatner speaks in tongues!
Keep it gay, eh!
And last, but not least, William Shatner's stirring rendition of the Elton John/Bernie Taupin classic "Rocket Man".
[Inspired by Theft is good.]
I guarantee that you won't see this every day:
Thrill to the horror of satanic ritual!
Tingle with excitement at the succubi sisters!
Look on with bewilderment as William Shatner speaks in tongues!
Keep it gay, eh!
And last, but not least, William Shatner's stirring rendition of the Elton John/Bernie Taupin classic "Rocket Man".
[Inspired by Theft is good.]
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