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September 19, 2004

The Triumph of the First Ammendment

Okay. I promised not to make my next entry about sex (Which is why I'm not going to tell you the story of what happened to me this past Friday -- except to say that I won Suicide Karaoke again), so I'll choose a nice safe topic. Religion.

This is already making the rounds, but hey, every little bit helps. I was just handed this link about an exceptional incident on the subway.

If you're too lazy to read the article yourself, here's a quick precis: Subway Evangelist decries the inherent satanism of homosexuality (The Dark Prince is a little light in the hooves, it seems. Come on, folks. It doesn't count as gay sex if satan shoves a red-hot poker up your ass. Unless you like it.). Author responds with show-tunes. And then it happens again, with the new preacher claiming that "Gay devils are controlling New York" (And here, I thought it was the five jew bankers [2 points]).

And this, in my opinion, is a victory for freedom of speech. At this point, you're probably asking yourself: What's this guy smoking? But though this be madness, there's method in it.

A lot of people, in their outrage at the hatemongers, would go as far as to say that the racists, the homophobes, and the religious nutcases (I want to make it absolutely clear that "religious" does not imply "nutcase". If it did, I wouldn't have to use both words) should not be allowed to espouse their beliefs. There's some merit to this argument (There are several European countries where they've decided that the need to protect the public from hate speech outweighs the freedom of expression, and have banned, for example, Nazi propaganda), but it's not one I support. I just have a problem with the fact that the people who preach tolerance and acceptance have so much trouble tolerating and accepting those who don't share those views -- It's wrong to oppress someone's beliefs, unless their belief is that it's okay to oppress someone's beliefs. Maybe even more importantly, your friendly neighborhood hatemongering evangelist often comes armed with an unfounded persecution complex -- thinking that a mostly-atheistic world is trying to crush and oppress the word of God (And ban the bible). The most important thing about this belief is that it's unfounded. The last thing I want if for them to be right.

So, the first triumph of Freedom of Speech here is that, as much as we may disapprove of what our Urban Apostle was saying, we accept her right to say it.

But that doesn't mean we have to just sit back and take it. Now, you're probably thinking that a rational discourse and debate would be a more mature way to deal with this situation. The problem is that you're dealing with someone who believes that the world is run by a conspiracy of sub-human homosexuals who actively engage in servitude to the source of all evil, and that the perfect and omnipotent creator of the universe has personally chosen them to decry this evil, and, despite the weight of biblical evidence, sanctions their righteous hate of those who disagree with them. This is not an argument within the domain of logical discourse. Their argument isn't based on logic and reason, and to respond with it isn't just ineffective -- it's not really apropriate. So the second triumph of free speech is that the author responded in kind to what was, in essence, an attack as logically absurd as, to give a totally random example, singing showtunes.

And when you've got rhythm, and you've got subway fare, who can ask for anything more?
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September 14, 2004

How's that for community service?

One key feature of a three-part series is that it has... three parts. This is why you're about to get double-hit from the bong that is my journey through the Mainichi Daily News. Yes, once again, the news from the land of Raw Fish, Bear, Porn, Wasabi, A Joke That Was Tired Two Articles Ago, the Rodan who isn't a French sculptor, Power Levels, a way to show appreciation to Mr. Roboto, and Mr. Friendly.

It seems that Japan has a problem -- less silly than the hide-and-seek thing, more subtle than yet another giant radioactive monster, and, of course, amenable to me making unsubtle dirty jokes:

"Japan's infamous Sex Volunteer Corps is being swamped with frantic calls for its dispatch from growing numbers of desperate 30-something virgins." No, really. From the first line of the article, we can deduce two amazing things:

  1. Japan's got a lot of desperate 30-something virgins.
  2. Japan has Sex Volunteer Corps.

Damn it. I had to lick envelopes for the community association to get in my mandatory high school Service Learning requirement. If only I had known. (Bet you thought I was going to make a joke about "licking." So did I, but nothing I could come up with seemed quite funny enough.)

But here's the amazing part: They're not talking about men who live in their mothers' basements (ie. you). They're talking about women. More than that, they're talking about 30something women who have never known the firm embrace of a man, and who are so desperate to change this that they've called in professionals (Professional Virginity Removal Service: We won't go down in history. We will go down on your sister).

Truly, the land of Japan is a strange and mysterious world. Now, I'm not one of the considerable number of Ugly Americans with a particular fetish for asian women, but this seems kind of extreme. Maybe it's a cultural thing. Or maybe I'm just deluded, but I've always been of the opinion that adult women are only ever virgins by choice, while adult men are only ever virgins by happenstance. But seriously, folks, I call on everyone who happens to be in the far east to do our friends from the land of the Iron Chef a favor: swing by and deflower someone, because these Volunteer Sex Corps folks are amassing "Considerable experience" in introducing women to the joys of the generative act.

And that's just not fair.

Fortunately for the yang of the universe, this may be a passing problem. There's a good chance that the next generation of Japanese virgins will not make it to their thirties (Wow. Is there anything I can't make sound like a horror movie premise?) A recent study (The most spurious of all sources, but I don't need to check my facts. I'm commenting on the news. The news happened even if the thing it covers didn't) suggests that 34% of Japanese High School Students have been paid for sex (The headline doesn't mean anything to me either. For a funny headline, see here.) . Truly, capitalism has triumphed. Yay capitalism.

So, here ends my trip through the magical land of Japan. For those of you who are getting suspicious that the articles I've referenced here are made up, I'll say only this: I didn't make it up. I also didn't check too hard to find out if this is some kind of Japanese equivalent of The Onion, because if it is, I wouldn't be justified in having the fun of writing this three-part series.

If you're concerned that the past few columns have been a little sex-obsessed, bordering on lecherous... Well, get over it. I decided to do a three-part series on wacky news from Japan after being handed a URL, and so I scanned down the list of articles until I found some that I thought were funny enough to comment on. And they happened to almost all be about sex. Sex sells. I promise, my next article will be deeper, more insightful, and shy away from topics of a mature nature.

After all, I haven't made any poop jokes yet.

If there's one thing I've learned from my brief study of Japan, it's this: Gamera is a friend to all children.

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September 14, 2004

At least they're not playing "Hide the Sausage"

In light of the overwhelmingly positive response to my last column (which is to say, I haven't gotten a single hate mail for my good-natured ribbing at the expense of those elements of Japanese pop-culture which pimply american fanboys worship with a level of adulation usually reserved for Britney's Used Gum.) in the past hour, I decided to offer up another heaping helping of literary Iron Chefery from the home of jailbait in sailor suits, Mighty Jack, Miso Soup (For the life of me, I can't imagine why people like it), paper houses (Well, if you had to rebuild every time Godzilla got hungry for today's theme ingredient: Tokyo, you'd choose cheap building materials too) and Pork Joy, the magical Land of Japan.

It turns out that in the small Japanese town of Mikata, some folks are pushing to have hide-and-seek made an Olympic sport. And, as usual, I'm not making this up ("Life's bad enough without needing to invent more of it," [1 point]).

And why not? In Mikata, they have institutionalized the local past time by handing out awards to tourists who distinguish themselves by locating the locals (Oh, those wacky non-westerners. Here in the states, it's the out-of-town visitor who comes to the small town so that no one can find them.). But in recent years, Mikata has been beset by an unexpected plague (No, not zombies, though this whole town seems like it'd be a great setting for a horror movie. Think about it, folks. Tourist comes to a town where everyone's mysteriously absent, only to find that they're all hiding -- from ZOMBIES): students. These grad school experts, no doubt taking time off from their grueling curriculm of Giant Robot Piloting, Mothra-wrangling, and pubic hair sciences, have been spoiling everyone's fun by, well, being too good at the game.

I know that sounds like a silly complaint, but, come on. This is for the kids, isn't it? It's like what would happen if Tiger Woods and Jack Nickalus decided to show up and enter the local putt-putt golf tourney, or, more realistically, what happens when the other team gets that one guy on the dodgeball team who takes the whole thing way too seriously.

On the other hand, what relief is there for folks who enjoy the thrill of competitive adult (by which I mean "not child", and not "naked" -- though.... Hm.... Naked hide and seek... I must think on this some more) hide-and-seek? The Baltimore Orioles don't need to come down and ruin the local sandlot game, because, there's, y'know, Camden Yards (First person to suggest that the Baltimore Orioles might be better off playing on the sandlot will be bound, gagged with a can of Natty Bo, coated with Old Bay, and submerged in the Chesapeake Bay, where blue crabs will gnaw at their bones until the end of time.). Many childhood pleasures are denied to adults (I particularly miss those little Gerber biscuits), but why should hide-and-seek be among them?

And there's the argument for making hide-and-seek an olympic sport. The article mentioned above ends with an enthusiast's quote: "It's our dream to have hide and seek included as an Olympic sport, probably in the Olympiad after the Games following Beijing."

My dream includes hide-and-seek too. Naked hide-and-seek.

See you at the 2012 games -- if I can find you.

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September 14, 2004

Some guys have all the luck.

In spite of the title, this isn't another post about my karaoke habits (Though I'm suddenly down to one a week, thanks to latency as the regular gig relocates. Man, I'm jonesing for some Tom Jones). Instead, I'm going to speak a little about the best job ever.

No, it's not my job, which eludes rigorous definition. It's the job of the person whose research led to the article I'm about to cite for you.

Now, I am not the worldliest of men; my own experience of the subject matter (a) not exhaustive and (2) none of your god damned business, so I will defer to an expert, and by expert, I mean the guy with the afforementioned (cue reverb'd annoucer voice)best job ever. From the mysterious Land of Japan, the empire where the sun rises, the land that gave us Ichiro, Godzilla, Nintendo, My Car, Tamagotchi, Pokemon, 70% of the Power Rangers, illegible stereo instructions, Wam Monkeys, and World War 2 comes the one thing every man on the planet has been longing to know ever since our ape ancestors fell out of the trees and started going bald. Yes, thanks to one man's dedication, we finally know what a woman's pubes say about her as a potential spouse.

That's right, folks. The man with the (cue reverb'd announcer voice) Best Job Ever is a pubic hair researcher. And I thought that my degree (Master of Science in Security Informatics) had a silly name. I went to the wrong school. (But, hey, praise be the Japanese Education System. I now know that in addition to Giant-Monster-Fighting, you can also get advanced degrees in pubic hair. Piloting a Giant Robot, is, of course, not a college degree since this is clearly taught at the elementary school level)

This Professor of Pubology informs us that the ideal wife (And, by an amazing coincidence, a large percentage of Japanese women, according to his research) has a pelt-below-the-belt reflecting a lack of concern with ethics and morality, which means that she'd be willing to take a lot crap from her husband, but also displays the apropriate level of wantonness in the sack. ("My mother never quite managed the combination of traits essential in a housewife. She was a whore in the kitchen and asleep in the bedroom." [3 points]).

Sadly for many of you, dear readers, the article fails to say what completely shorn equipment reflects, so you'll just have to go on wondering what kind of wife Jenna Jameson would be.

And now, if you don't mind, I have to go find out if Tokyo U offers correspondance courses.
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September 07, 2004

God's Own Party

I'm Catholic, insofar as I can claim any particular faith. Now, our founders thought separation of church and state was a pretty good idea, but they thought a lot of things were good ideas, and I can dig how a person's faith could affect their politic.

Now, whichever side of the political Roy G. Biv you fall on, I don't think you can deny that religious convictions are having a lot more of an effect on US politics nowadays than they have in recent history.

Fortunately for those of who didn't jump ships when Martin Luther invented protestantism, you can now find out whether or not you vote like the bishops.

And if you think I'm being a little wishy-washy about my own politics: 33%/-57%/35%: Bishops, Bush, Kerry. I was most in alignment with the Church on matters of Global Solidarity and Social Justice, and most out of alignment on Family Life.

The reason I'm blogging this isn't just in case anyone else wants to find out where they stand in relation to the candidates and the Vatican, but to make an observation. And instead of explaining it in painful detail, I'll just reduce it to a friendly little sound byte:

Folks, the question should not be "I'm a Catholic. How should I feel about the issues?" It should be, "Here's how I feel about the issues. What does that say about my faith?"

Oh, and the title of this article? Some folks at Republican events have taken to displaying that motto, reinforcing the association between American Fundamentalist Christianity and the Right. Why do I care? It's made the rounds, but I'll say it anyway. I'm not proposing a conspiracy or anything other than an unfortunate coincidence, but try translating "God's Own Party" into Arabic. I'm not making it up.

God will have His little jokes.
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September 02, 2004

And I Opened the First Seal...

Truly, we live in dark times.

Now, I've gone through periods in my life when I gave in to the addictive power of on-line bidding, sure. In fact, I'm composing this entry on a very spiffy touchscreen LCD monitor I bought on eBay.

But, folks, take your medication. This just ain't right. MSNBC is reporting that crazed fans are in a buying frenzy to purchase the used chewing gum of Britney Spears. I am not making this up.

You're probably going to hear me compare various things in our crazy, mixed-up modern world to signs of the apocalypse a lot (and yeah, maybe I shouldn't be so flippant about such things, given that lots of people really do believe that the end is nigh, and some high-placed folks are even actively trying to make it happen), but I'm seriously concerned about what this says for humanity.

Now, I'm jiggy with the desire to touch something connected to a famous person. I've got an autograph book (I haven't put anything in it in about eight years, but that's just because I so rarely meet anyone important). I can even understand slavish devotion to the Incredible Silicone Schoolgirl -- I don't care for the music or the look myself, but it's not like I'd flat out refuse an offer to try to produce some little computer geek-pop star hybrids (But then, I'm easy. However: sidebar...

Back when I was in school -- this was probably around '98 or '99, I spent an evening drinking with some guys who I don't remember that well now. I only recall the incident at all for two things. Hanging over their couch was a home-made page-a-day tear-off calendar, which counted down the days until Britney Spears became a Consenting Adult. I am not making this up.).

But folks, come on. It's used gum. Obviously, none of us are in a position to tell if it's legitimate -- but even if it is, it's still used gum. Let's be reasonable here. "FA: Chewing Gum (1 pc) Gently used - one careful owner." The basic grodiness of it really should put you clean off the idea. Please.

What's next? Southeby's selling off Shakira's used kleenex (Kleenex is a trademark of Kimberly-Clarke, nice folks who wouldn't even dream of suing little old me)? Even more vile things I will leave to your imagination.

(Oh, and the second thing I remember that night for? They had a full-sized Steinway. In their dorm room.)
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