We're Outta Here!


As I sit here packing and eating my deliciously devilish gourmet chee-tos, I'm a bit saddened by the lack of extemeness of the yummy-smiling sun which acts as a mascot-replacement for the IN YOUR FACE Chester Cheetah I'm normally used to. More troubling still, I'm not sure under what circumstances cheetos would be deemed, "gourmet"... These don't taste any more decadent than usual--- I picked them up because I hoped that the 'cheetos' name wouldn't let me down, and good lord, it didn't... Not like that misnomer of a confectionery, nee 'caramel corn', which isn't caramel corn at all, but rather something that resembles Cap'n Crunch. In Japan everything is something else--- So remember that when you order your ebi-mayo pizza---

And what's the point---? Why bother making something if you're just going to trash all over it and decide, HEY! Italian pasta is better afterall with not much sauce and some ham thrown in there, perhaps some natto and goya on top; And you know what's been missing on pizza for the past 50 years, SEAFOOD! The next time you go to some horrible Greek restaurant somewhere and your friend tells you that it's just 'not quite right', punch them right in the face for me.

Every food item in Japan is an 'Eastern take, on a Western classic!', which means that 99.9% of the rest of the world will find it wretched--- Japan is that kid in gradeschool who eats worms to get attention--- People will tell you that goya and natto are healthy, but seriously, if health involves eating battery acid and rotting garbage, wouldn't the healthy envy the dead?

On the eve of my return vacation to the United States I've got my "Corn Garden" caramel corn done the right way, I'm finishing off my gourmet cheetos, I'm getting ready to "Run for the border", and I'm going to do it all so extreme, so heart-felt, so full of life, it just may break your motherfucking heart.

Kiss me or I'll break your neck.


The best thing about this whole picture, other than the guy who looks like he caught his grandparents having sex, the "are you serious, dude?" guy, and the vice grip that girl has the other girls head in, is peacefull, bored, apathetic Mao up there all like, "whatevs... YAWN!".

The bitch is Blackwell.


There's something slightly sad about a depressed old fag who's only claim to fame is telling us just how horribly dressed he thinks certain women are. It's like going to wig-stock just to find out that gay people think that Joan Crawford is over the top--- We get it! I've got nothing against a good looking guy in drag, but since when did anyone need to be told just how ridiculous gay men find women of the 1950's?

Then there's Mr. Blackwell. I don't know if I'd bother even clicking that link--- his resume reads simply "fashion critic", which is a sort of job, like multi-media artist or club-promoter, where you wonder why it even exists in the first place. Coming in at #1 this year is Britney Spears. Whoopidy-Fucking Doo! Should someone really be given air-time for telling us that Britney Spears, classically one of the least sophisticated stars of the past 10 years, dresses so poorly? I'm not defending Brit, who cares, what has she done for me lately--- or ever for that matter, but guess what types of people can dress like a slob and not give a rats ass about it, wealthy people, buster--- Yet the theme is that somehow they should know better as they are in fact the paragons of our vast human social structure.

But the thing is, besides the slight chuckle we get from looking at something someone wore once because it was given to them by Gucci or Prada, whomever, the information in and of itself is fourthousand times more worthless than reading a tv-guide from 10 years ago.

The only people who care about this shit are gay men, people in the fashion industry, and Joan Rivers, a woman so onerous her own husband committed suicide just to get away from her. There's something to be said about an aging man making a career out of observing the flaws in women a third his age or moreso year after year--- maybe scorn is his anti-drug, most likely however, he just hates himself most of all.

Triskaidekaphobia fever!


Shit, I just realized that today is Friday the 13th... I've gone all day today walking under ladders, in front a black cats, and purposely smashing mirrors and I didn't know I'd be getting my bad luck back TWO-FOLD... (thirteen-fold?).

But seriously, "The Final Chapter", I'm no expert on Jason Vorhees vehicle films, I don't know what movie this film poster came from, but the Friday 13th franchise calling something final is like the Rolling Stones, calling their tour the last tour ever...

Everyone knows that even the Sex Pistols cash in when there's a market for retrospect--- The Eagles even nodded to the fact ...Hell hath indeed frozen over. The one good thing about the Sex Pistols "reunion", was that they brought back Glenn Matlock, the only real reason their music sounded good in the first place--- I'm sure if they could have revived Sid Vicious, the Ernesto "Che" Guevera (ie. a total fraud) of Punk Rock* they would have propped him up next to a bass guitar and he would have sounded just as good as he ever did. Check out extreme action man Sid Vicious, he's punk, he's like your dad's version of Pete Doherty, a junky slob.

(*...see that Che reference? and I'm not trying to sound patronizing, I just don't want to come off all "Dennis Miller" on you). Especially in Japan, people seem to view Che Guevera as a 'bad ass' revolutionary fighting for the people. He might have been fighting for SOME people, but he certainly wasn't fighting for your capitalist economy ass.... Che notably would much rather have shot you, which is a rather casual but not far removed summation of his policies and beliefs).

Remember that when you wear that Che t-shirt.
Also, it's not safe to go back to Crystal Lake, what the fuck, take my advice on this one--- especially if you are a horny camp counselor.

Special Bonus edit: I'm not beyond admiting I'm wrong about something, and casually browsing the inter-net-super-highways today, I stumbled across **this** jawesome list of top ten misconceptions concerning the aformentioned Ernesto "Che" Guevera... Case in point, it states that Guevera, [...] was for state capitalism. He opposed the wage labor system of “appropriating surplus value” (in Marxist jargon) only when it came to private corporations. etc... etc..

Super special aditional Che-History link actionage!
Read it, and take off that damn t-shirt.

Remember reading all those Wired Magazine articles that portend that any day now we'll all be using universal translators nee Babel fish to speak Au Naturale with everyone from Shanghai to Tanzania? Well, the future is now, motherfuckers! Sony & the PSP have come to our rescue with the multi-faceted Talk-Man soft, for the PSP portable system--- (I know that's redundant but sue me...).

Unfortunately, they do it in seemingly the most offensive and ugly way imaginable. I was a little perplexed at this CM... You'll need Windows Media Player to view it--- the run down goes something like this...

Introducing Whitey, our protagonist, (antagonist?), after a brief introduction by the fellow sitting next to her that in this year they will mary, she bows and quips back her name in Japanese "Helena desu---"... Maybe she should follow it with yorokishu onegai shimasu?? I'll leave that up for you to decide.

Here is dad. This man is not pleased. Does this picture depict a man happy with this situation? Not likely, bucky. There are a lot of ways that you can translate his (unspoken) response, "taihen da..." (it's terrible)...

Maybe it's her stilted attempt at Japanese, hell at least she tried... Maybe it's her briefness at such a formal meeting, ---hell it's not THAT formal, she's not kneeling on a sabuton honorifically asking for his son's hand in marriage. Maybe (as my gf pondered), it's his unease at having to speak to someone who knows little Japanese, even though her fiance is right next to her to assist--- or more likely (also as my gf thought), that Whitey Whitestein herself isn't exactly his idea of an ideal mate for his son. Maybe it's because she's getting a little chub around the midsection?

Sony PSP to the rescue motherbitches--- What better way to say, "welcome to the family" than to shove an electronic device into someone's face that says it in a weird robot's voice for you. Hey, problem solved.

Look, I don't want to take this all too seriously, it's just a commercial but--- these types of conversations happen all of the time, people can get along and talk and sometimes someone translates all without the awkwardness of barely showing your disdain of having a real conversation by using a software device to do the talking for you. I'm not shocked out of my skin about the theme of the CM, but does Sony really think that people are going to bother to use the device in such a way, or even benefit from it, on either side of the conversation? Is it really a good social quality to piece together a stilted conversation using a futuristic speak and spell? Maybe at least that way, the girl will give up on ever understanding actual Japanese and just go her merry way back to whatever godless country she comes from.

For the curious: more Sony PSP CM in Windows Media format.

ps. Blogger spell-check suggests motorbike as a spelling correction for motherfucker? I hate to pump up the volume again, but what the fuck, hasn't the spell checker ever seen an R-Rated movie?

Funky Puccini


Are you serious, because you can not be. All I know is, any kid that even casually knows what a porccini mushroom is, is well off enough that the fucker can buy his own damn art and appreciate that whenever he gets out of whatever Ivy school he floats through half-assed on his parrent's dime.

Get off my plane!


Let's face it, the internet is good for just about one thing, and one thing only: information. Sure, sometimes that information is porn, sometimes it's a movie that nobody should pay to see in the first place, sometimes it's a column written by someone on a subject that interests you. Sometimes--- it's a gay Goth vampire crossed with a futuristic L.A. raver nee transexual prostitute who writes in alternating cases on a webpage you can't read with commet-cursor installed.

Everyone cool with that? No? Okay, maybe we're on the same page here; but what to do about it? Regulation is a tricky thing, on the one hand big corporations (also known as "the man"), shouldn't be trusted to regulate themselves, and on the other hand, the government shouldn't regulate things unnecissarily, because information wants to be downloaded, people want to yank it to obscene pornography, nobody wants to pay for the Britney Spears Toxic ep, the Firefox browser is for vegans and fags, I don't want to pay a lot for this muffler--- those sorts of things.

At this juncture however, I think we need to call in Big Brother to personally escort the internet (and it's undesirables) off to a private rat-chair holding cell at Airstrip One. Let's hook up some electrodes to the internet's nether regions in the goal of re-programming, at least so it can act passably normal and one day rejoin society.

But why the internet? That thing saved me from paying 1,800 yen to see Mr. & Mrs Smith, and possibly even gouging my eyes out with a soda straw in the process--- it can't be all that bad as you say. You see, life without the internet allows certain people to be weird and isolated all by themselves, hell, being by yourself is a hallmark of isolation! No chat rooms, no message boards, no livejournal, nothing but that hated diary who would self-immolate if it could rather than hear another paeon against how outcast you feel.

But that was then in the primordial days of social interaction, forced or not. These days people are getting online and getting isolated together, encouraging each other to rebel against: the norms, the churchies, the market place, normal haircuts, good taste in music. Nowadays, if there is a weird fetish out their involving zombies, vampires, cuting, no-hit wonder music, there are a pack of over-zealous twenty three year olds with a web-ring to celebrate it. Look, I'm no square, I'm not asking for Pleasantville, for Christ's sake, just the occasional bit of pause for thought, think: Is it really such a good idea for you to vomit that horrid excuse for a personality of yours all over the place.

I don't want to shoot my glock off all Archie Bunker up in your grill, but the biggest offenders of this sort of crap are insane-women. You know the drill: blue hair, circa 1994 rave goggles, a faux wapanese fixation on "Japanese Culture", fuck--- these people even make those weirdos look absolutely normal. The lynchpin is the nuveau Goth idea to take Goth, a horribly affected subcultre to begin with, and turn up the gay level so high you need Rip Taylor to stand next to them just to gague how unbelievable over the top they took it.

Sure, the men do this stuff too, not to the same extrmemes, and most of them started off simply with an unhealthy appreciation for Siouxie & the Banshees, or Tori Amos, crying into their pillows at night. Once they realised that they might be able to stick it in the vagina of these dad-hating girls they became the ever-present gay-biker Dave Navaro 18th level SCA Warlocks en masse at the shitty neuvo-80s-industrial nights playing music five billion epochs past it's shelf date.

The really odd thing is that half of these futuristic-tranny-biker prostitutes are self-described "nerds". I'm no nerd defender but these girls don't know any nerds, their idea of a nerd is a guy high enough not to balk at playing 3 hours of Silent hill, and horny enough not to question their tastes in hentai anime... Hey, I know, middle school and the ninth grade can suck, it's when it all comes together and you realize that rolling up that 8th level Magic User in the library just MAY NOT have been the best use of your last half hour. Hell, it can suck all the way out of highschool and right into life. Here's what you do: wear shitty clothes, invent something electronic, get a bad haircut, maybe get rich, mary someone who loves you for your money--- do you think that Bill Gates mopes around on his livejournal and listens to His Name is Alive all day? No he doesn't larry. Whatever you do, just don't call yourself MistressKittyPussy and write about it on your webpage concerning the details of your life long goal of trying to make Klaus Nomi look absolutely normal.

Hentai tentacle rape porn is your raison d'etre?? Orly? Maybe you just wanted to be that fucked up Asian kid who collects doll figurines and chops up little girls into suet? You did? Mission A-Fucking-Complished, ^_^ "Otaku-chan". Now thanks to you, some guy who likes numbers and might have gone on to invent some life-saving gadget is going to get confused, stop inventing things and think that he has a chance to get a piece from MissySexPussy69 of www.hotvampires.com.

Oh fuck.

Rock in Golden Age


Kodansha has a new issue of Rock in Golden Age on the shelf this month. This issue is the (imo-- better) half of the 1976-1977 duo issues, featuring artists like Patti Smith, New York Dolls, Suicide, Buzzcocks, Ramones, Television/Richard Hell, The Stranglers, even the Boomtown Rats who had a noteable punk hit w/ Lookin' Out for Number One, then the awkward segue into Earth Wind & Fire, Parliament Funkadelic and Stevie Wonder's classic, Songs in the Key of Life. Personally I think that white people ruined the names of both funk & reggae permantly spilling some sort of indellible bongwater of shame on them & then hacky-sacking them into the realm of ironic dreadlocks and stink...

The nod is warranted, but next to Blondie's debut it's still a little jarring--- it's not too heavy in depth but for 740en no less--- it's still a nice picturebook.

Grab-bag rockin' funzone


A few things to consider:

1. No matter what you might think, no matter how hard you hope, no matter how loud you turn up that Combichrist cd, I'm sorry to tell you that, Jhonen Vasquez is not, and will not ever be considered an "artist" in any conventional sense. Grow up.

2. I have as of yet to see Japanese fruit rot, or bread turn moldy, or milk turn into the type of science experiments I was capable of at home. I don't know if I want to know, but I wonder if Japan is using some sort of chemicals to keep this stuff fresh forever... I don't think I've bought eggs off the shelf in any other country, now that I think of it.

3. Some people would say that the Do-Nuts, (creatively pronounced, Doo-Nuts), are a second rate HALCALI ripoff... I'd say that they're first rate HALCALI ripoff! Really, I heard this track (Nagisa no Go-Go Girl), when I first got here in August, a month after it was released, constantly, later I read those same similar charges--- In my mind I pegged the song as the copycat to Giri Giri Surfrider if only for it's same single strophe of nami-nori (into surfing), but only recently found the actual original to seal the deal... (I had only heard it previously on the radio.) I asked my girlfriend if she remembered the song from when I had moved to Japan, and the first thing she asked was, "Eee? HALCALI?"... Pretty condemning evidence.

4. Speaking of HALCALI...

バレバレだって メッセンジャー
爆音鳴った宣伝カー さらされてる 炎天下
駆け抜ける セプテンパーまで

The Messenger vans are in fact, in January, still going strong... selling sweet potatos with the vocal conviction of a No drama. Listen to the Japanese Blimpvert from the Blade Runner soundtrack, and picture someone driving around slowly selling you oil, gyoza or sweet potatos, and you'll get the image perfectly.

...more later.

Hard Gay hard up for hard cash, clever headlines depleted.


MSN Mainichi has a little fluff article about how Razor Ramon, Hard Gay, coincidentally, NOT this guy may not be quite as rich as we think desipte being on television seemingly constantly this last year.

First, it's not an exageration. It was incredibly easy at any time this last year to turn on the television and hear the signature "fuuuuuuuuuu~~~~". Japanese television is, if anything, mind dullingly repetitious--- which perhaps explains the short life span of talent. How many times can you girate to Livin la Vida Loca before the joke wears thin? Seemingly much much more than you might have ever imagined.

The article doesn't make any claims as to what he's exactly making, some 10 times his pay rate when he was previously with the Shin Kigeki talent group, but then it doesn't actually say that he's living la vida broka either... Like that clever pun? I thought of that all by myself.

Gee, you would think that with the money they save on never having any contestants, audience members, guests, or subjets who aren't the regular run-of-the-mill talent-scam, they could slide HG a few more duckets... At least it will be good to remember when watching, waiting--- praying! ...to see which talent takes home the Mercedez Benz, that the talent are just regular folk like you and me; Hard Gay is just one of us, just a slob like one of us... What if?

Hey! Chief, let's rap, why not!?


There is really nothing new to say about Gwen Stefani and her creepy Asian fetish... Still, people buy into that sort of gag all of the time, and it's being sold all the time. SOMEONE needs to staff the cultural pavillions at Epcott Center, someone needs to fill the pages of Asian Babes. And seriously though, who are you gonna call when you need someone to model for the "Hot Import Nights" car show?

I didn't even notice that there on the front page of the Asahi Shimbun newspaper on new years day was old Gwen and her pack of the smartest dumb girls to ever cash in on their heritage. The gist of the matter is that "kawaii culture" is catching on all over the world! Hey, true or not, (I think not), it makes a much kinder and gentler story than "White devil-woman uses race card to pimp LA whores, sell albums...". Gwen isn't really a household name in Japan, and frankly I could care less if she becomes one... Nobody's ruining my good time except for the wretched economy. It's hard to say what the consensus is, nobody really knows about her, but then--- I haven't exactly been polling the streets (nor do I care to), to find out what people think. Those (Japanese) people who have spoken have enjoyed the nod to Japanese street culture, but wonder how long Gwen will keep up the act. As long as the money keeps on comming in, I suppose.

But so what? Maybe she's ruining your Asia, getting it all wrong you know. Her biggest crime seems to be having the sort of cash required to advertise her own patented brand of consumable yellow fever, whereas a good tip would be to keep that sort of fetish on the down low. Even still, I think that if you're an Asian daily who runs a front page spread of Gwen Stefani and her traveling minstrel show and you don't see even a slight tinge of scary irony about the scene, perhaps your own hubris has grown far too large for anyone, anywhere, to defend it.

Parlez-Vous Douchebag?


"So anyways, I think that we're going to start principal photography soon, we've got Daren Aronofsky set to direct, I really love his work, so lyrical, in uh, visual sense you know what I mean. Wilmer Valderrama expressed an interest in playing my double--- you see, it's kind of a Jekyl and Hyde meets Bronenosets Potyomkin, meets Wings of Desire sort of thing, but with a disco element to it, so Wilmer fits right in you know what I'm saying? Anyways, I've got an ounce of coke back at my bungalow if you wanna go back there, I've got the new Hell Rell mix cd, and some Ketle One and..., you do, cool let's boogie."


  • Hey I thought I'd clue you in that I don't live in Japan anymore... more than a few blog posts that nobody reads back I left Japan, but was unable to get back in which completely fucked my relationship up, and well, here I am now... single again. Am I bitter about Japanese immigration, fuck yeah (Sea King!), but what can you do...


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