Tuesday, June 28, 2005

JET Leads Intoxicated Japanese in Chorus of "Different Strokes" Theme Song

"It was the greatest moment of my life," proclaimed, Dick Gozinya, 30, of Aho-Cho, Hokkaido. On a lonely Hokkaido Saturday night the young Gozinya found himself drinking in the local snack-bar of his small economically depressed town. As is always the case, the local drunk rednecks were urging Dick to sing them something on the karaoke machine. Despite Dick's reluctance, he eventually acquiesced, and agreed to one song.

Upon flipping through the dog-eared karaoke book, Dick just happened upon on old ditty he had almost all but forgotten: the theme song for the 80's hit TV show "Different Strokes." "Wow! I thought," said Dick. "These Japanese karaoke books really do have some random selections." Dick couldn't resist the temptation. He had witnessed on repeated occasions the shocking applause that the "Ghost Busters" theme tune had gotten. Why not give this one a try, he thought.

"So I shouted out the song i.d. number to the bar master," said Dick, "and, well, the rest is Aho-cho history." What Dick had unexpectedly stumbled upon, was the most positively received song in town history. "It brought down the house," said Dick with obvious pride. "They loved it! We had a true intercultural bonding. It was magical. When I hit the chorus, the bar went absolutely nuts!"

The reason behind the Japanese love of western show tunes might just be found in their own native breed of pop music. The simplistic chord structures and melodic arrangements of J-pop, as it is often referred, hold striking similarities to the advertising and TV show jingles of the west.

"My only advise," said Dick, with a genuine look, "is when in doubt, break out a show tune. The response will amaze you. Trust me. It will be a winner."

Monday, June 27, 2005

Exotic Automobile Destruction: A How-To-Guide for Beginners


This simple tutorial is designed for anyone who desires to spice up their life through the process of basic automobile destruction with an exotic twist. This tutorial assumes no prior experience with automobile destruction. Nonetheless, to get the most out of this guide, one should naturally have some knowledge of basic driving skills.

1. Initial Preparation

To get the most out of random, exotic automobile destruction, first get yourself into a low-medium to heavy post-intoxication haze. For example, this can be done by drinking copious amounts of low-grade potato liquor until 5 or 6 in the morning. After a brief nap, possibly on a miniature golf course, or the grounds of some other public facility. Begin to drive your vehicle.

2. Additional Preparation (optional)

Instead of returning immediately to one's home, spend the rest of the day driving aimlessly. No pre-determined destination is necessary. The purpose of this step is to develop the feeling of almost complete exhaustion. Important: complete exhaustion is undesired because capacity to further operate the vehicle will be necessary to complete the task.

3. Find an Isolated Backcountry Road And Drive At A Terrific Rate of Speed


This step is crucial, and can be difficult for the beginner. It is at this point that one might want to reference a reliable driving atlas or even consult with a knowledgeable local about where the most isolated country roads are located. It is also critical that this step be performed after sunset -- the darker the better. The use of a low-beam headlight setting is also advised.

4. Wait For A Large Exotic Animal To Race Onto the Road

This is where luck will play the biggest factor in the process. Some have the fortune of completing this step on their first try, others attempt repeated times and are still unsuccessful. Thus, initial failure should not dishearten the beginner from persevering. Also, the type of animal will of course vary across regions. In Hokkaido, deer are sufficient, however, if one is in the middle east, a camel might be desirable.

5. Assuming You Have Completed Step 4, Hit the Exotic Animal With Automobile At Full Speed

A direct strike is preferred, but side-strikes, rear clips, even backing up over the creature in desperate situations can suffice if necessary. Remember - the greater the speed, the greater the effect. The reasoning for the rummy post-intoxication haze will now become known. This will increase the "shock" value of hitting the animal. It will also, through the use of deadening the reflexes, hinder the uncertain driver from avoiding collision at the last moment.

6. Step Out of The Vehicle and Admire Your Handiwork. Congratulations! You Have Just Completed This Guide!

If you are unsure of whether or not you completed the tutorial properly, feel free to use the above graphic as a gauge. But, really, almost any type of automobile destruction is sufficient, and should be considered an accomplishment.

Good luck! And happy exotic automobile destroying!

Foreigner Bars in Japan: a haven for the homely

As my Grandmother once said, "There is a place for all God's creatures on earth." Well, Grandma, you were right again. Even the homely have a place in Japan: the foreigner bar.

In todays vain world of exclusive night clubs, high-society hangouts, and underground for-hot-people-only-sex-clubs, where are the homely to go? Well, perpetually ostracized westerners of the world, fret no more. There is now reason to rejoice. All you need do is come to Japan. There's an entire industry waiting for you. The foreigner bar.

When entering the foreigner bar for the first time, all seems typical. But, upon closer review, one thing stands out -- everybody is really homely. What at first seemed like a room full of out-of-your-league Japanese ladies, is actually a group of mediocre, highly-desperate-looking-for-foreigner-love-J-girls. And the men, well, anyone can obviously tell from the beginning they are extremely homely. That's why they're there.

Foreigner bars are a god-send for the attractively challenged in Japan, often serving as the impetus for the homeliest of foreign men to remain in the country. So next time you are stuck in your own western homeland, eating a TV dinner alone on another Friday night, get off that couch and start packing them bags. There's even a place for you on this earth: the Japanese foreigner bar. See you there.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Natto Officially Declared Worst Food of All Time by "Experts on Shitty Foods Committee"


In what was dubbed a landslide victory, the Japanese fermented soybean based dish, natto, was officially declared the "Worst Food of All Time," at the first ever meeting of the "Experts on Shitty Foods committee (ESFC)."

Natto is a traditional Japanese dish produced by the process of fermenting soybeans with the hay bacterium Bacillus natto. This process leaves natto with a strong odor, akin to diarrhea. Stirring the natto also results in the formation of spider-like strands leaving most to think someone accidently blew phlegm into the cup of beans.

Natto's health benefits have always been highly touted by the Japanese, as well as its use as an excellent source of protein. Nonetheless, the ESFC was quick to point out that none of these aspects, even if true, override the fact that natto just "sucks ass," as one chairman put it.

The chairman of the ESFC also noted the little known historical fact that the ancient Ainu peoples of Japan actually considered natto as a representation of the wrath of God. And, that the Japanese peoples love of the dish merely reinforced this belief.

In Act of Unprecedented Defiance, JET Wears Outdoor Shoes Inside.

At one time, a man by the name of Abraham Lincoln once said, "To sin by silence when they should protest, makes cowards of men." It is words like these that have inspired a young social dissident, Dick Gozinya, 25, of Aho-cho, Hokkaido, to launch his single man campaign against what he deems as discrimination in the work place within his JET Programme Contracting Organization.

"They think they can just cast me aside like a pawn in their little racist game of chess," said Gozinya. "Not give me any work. Talk to me like I'm a retard. Always giggle in my presence. But, I will not sit in silence another day. I will continue to wear outdoor shoes inside until they begin to agree to my demands."

Just exactly what those demands are, however, Gozinya apparently has no idea. "Demands? Well...um...give me a minute. Oh, I know, to stop treating me like such an outcast and a foreigner! And..., well, I guess that's it for right now. But believe me, I'll think of a few more later on."

While conducting our interview, we had the chance to witness just what kind of work environment Gozinya had to deal with on a daily basis. To our surprise, his office not only did not appear to treat him in a discriminatory manner, but instead coddled him in surprising fashion. There were multiple instances in which we witnessed the secretary bring him refreshments as well as his superiors appearing to treat Gozinya with more respect than he gave to them.

Upon questioning Gozinya about whether or not his anxiety stemmed not from discrimination in the work place, but instead from the typical after affects of "culture shock," his reaction was quite hostile. "Oh, I get it! It's all a big conspiracy against me. Just because I am the foreigner, I am in the wrong. Well you guys can just f*** off, too, for all I care!"

We also couldn't help but suggest that his method of protest was perhaps not only a bit childish, but also, for lack of a better word, gay. Gozinya's reaction to this was just as antagonistic as before. "Gay! Gay! You're a journalist. You can't use words like gay. But if I must explain, wearing outdoor shoes inside is the perfect way to strike the Japanese people right where it hurts. You see how anal they are about the whole shoe thing, don't you? It's almost a psychotic obsession. But this is nothing compared to my next plan. Yes. If this doesn't create the desired results, I'll stop separating my garbage properly. And, on purpose, too! We'll just see how they like that one."

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

JET Wonders What Next Pseudo-Job Will Be.

Upon realizing that his JET tenure would soon be coming to a close, Nakatonbetsu AET, Forrest Akers, 30, has begun to wonder exactly what his next pseudo-job will be. "It's actually quite intimidating," Forrest said. "I mean, I've been doing this pseudo-type-job for so long now, there's no way I could actually do real work. Gimme a break."

Although, Forrest admits he occasionally considers the prospect of getting a "real job," so to speak, the idea is quickly abandoned after recalling what "real" work actually was like prior to entering the JET Programme. "I remember my past job," says Forrest. "It really sucked. There's no way I want to do that again, at least if I can help it. People actually expecting something from you. Having to risk getting fired for screwing up. Getting yelled at for being late. Jeesh! Crazy, I tell you. Inhumane."

Nonetheless, regardless of the odds stacked against him, Forrest is confident that he can somehow find a new pseudo-job working alongside real, actual professionals. "I'll just keep looking and won't give up," vows Forrest. "There's another empty, useless position out there waiting to be filled by a highly un-motivated individual such as myself. You'll see. I've just got to beat the odds and find it. Or, squander the last of my JET savings on booze trying, that is."

All we have to say is good luck, Forrest. Good luck.

Why learning Japanese is stupid.

  • Japanese people can be really boring to talk with.
  • No matter how fluent you become, most Japanese will still be terrified at the thought of speaking with you. Period.
  • Kanji.
  • Kanji.
  • People will cock their heads in confusion and repeatedly not understand a single word you just said.
  • The only person who will have a shred of patience to help you with Japanese will be your boyfriend or girlfriend. (Albeit a lonely grandma-san has been known to show enthusiasm.) Japanese wives and husbands just learn English, because, well, your Japanese sucks, and they love you too much to just tell you.
  • Long vowel versus short vowel distinctions are just wrong. And should be quickly purged from the earth.
  • How many other countries speak Japanese?
  • Kanji.
  • You really only need to learn a handful of words anyway: "let's go," "let's drink," "let's eat," "let's eat and drink some more," and "penis."

OK, for decency's sake, here are some reasons to learn Japanese while in Japan.

  • So Japanese people will stop trying to speak English with you.
  • Because an extra bag at a convenience store can really come in handy sometimes.
  • You just have this burning urge to know "why" the locals do some of the silly things they do.

Monday, June 20, 2005

What's with all the gay stuff, anyway?

Is it just me, or is there a lot of homophobically disturbing boy on boy cuddling occurring in Japanese schools? For a culture that seems so obsessive about "maleness", if you will, male teenagers here can sure act like a bunch of sissies.

I remember walking naively into one of my first Junior High classes to oddly discover a few of the boys in the back straddling and hugging each other in definite sissy fashion. "Wow," I remember saying to myself. "What a bunch of fags!" Later that day one of these same boys would unexpectedly fondle my butt in an odd ploy for attention. I later think the purpose of this action was somehow twofold -- raise his status within the school "sissy-circle," as well as try to recruit me into the "sissy-fold." Instead, all he really succeeded in doing was making me feel very unclean, as well as debate walking in a crab-like defensive posture for my remainder in Japan.

After witnessing all this odd and insidious dood on dood action, it begs the question: is man on man spooning also considered appropriate sleeping protocol for non-homosexual Japanese males? To this day, I have had the fortune of not finding out, but imagine how shockingly disturbed the recent arrival might be to accidentally stumble upon Takahashi and Suzuki-san, the local "tough-guy" Judo senseis, gently spooning each other on a tatami mat?

Cross-cultural gender lines truly are much more complex than one could have ever imagined.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Enough with the penis questions, already!

For some reason, it has now become commonplace at social gatherings with Japanese people for my penis to consistently be the subject of conversation for at least 15-20 minutes. This has lead me to believe that the Japanese universally suffer from "foreigner-penis-fixation-disorder." A disorder which causes the inflicted to become infatuated with foreigner penis -- specifically dimensions and other various spacial aspects of the appendage. This condition thus causes its sufferers to fixate on the foreign penis once within its midst. As I stated above, a typical outbreak seems to only last for 15-20 minutes, although cases lasting anywhere from 12 hours to as long as several days have been reported.

I kid you not when I say that on numerous occasions the first thing a new acquaintance has asked me was related to my personal genital dimensions. Now I am by no means shy with regards to the above topic, but even I have found myself a bit taken aback at the forwardness of such an inquiry. And they do it so shamelessly! This is a people famous for their demure behavoir. It just reinforces the irony of the Japanese that once they get a bit of liquor in them, watch out! Tiger on the loose. Your penis is in their sites.

I've even had the occasional honor of a couple fellows decideding to just have a feel for themselves upon introduction. "Wow! Nice to meet you, too, Shinji-kun. That's one hell of a handshake you've got there. " The crazy thing is, is that I often find myself second guessing whether or not I should return the favor, or risk breaking some delicate cultural faux pas. It is then at this point when my rationale self takes over and concludes that cultural sensitivity can take a flying fuck. I then immediatly break into defensive position so as to ward off any succeeding penis attacks.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Is it just me, or does the special e.d. teacher think I'm retarded?

Often, I can't help but wonder if the special education teacher at the local junior high also suspects me of being retarded. I know my Japanese ability is far from spectacular, but I imagine it's slightly better than...hmm... let's say, a potted plant. Nonetheless, everytime he greets me, it's with this huge grin, saucery eyes, proceded by a salutation in Japanese at turtle speed. He then rubs my shoulder with disturbing enthusiasm after answering him in an appropriate manner. Basically, this has been going on almost everyday for the last 2 years.

I know it must sound awful, but I can't help but feel a bit like "Little Johnny" dying of lukemia at this point, any moment expecting him to give me the little league hair rub at accomplishing the most mundane task. Also, he's such a nice fellow, not even my ultra-cranky self can muster up a shred of anger in his direction. My only consolation is to try and shock him with a dab of "high-level" Japanese. At which point, he claps his hands in surprise, throws me a chocolate, and tells me what a "Goooooooood Job," I did. Well, at least I got something.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Where do you lie on the freak scale?

When one lives in another country inhabited by an ethnic majority other than one's own, he or she will possess some degree of "freakiness" that cannot be avoided. This is an example of the adverse circumstances one must naturally face if they are to live amongst a different people. Merely, par for the course. Now being "freaky" is not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. It can often pay to stand out. You get noticed for one. Oh...do you get noticed.

As in Japan's case, having a high degree of homogeneity in the local population also affects the "freak scale" -- sometimes quite drastically. Those who have ever visited an onsen in the outer reaches of rural Hokkaido can attest to the above. Doesn't take long for me and my rag-tag group of foreigners to clear the locals out of the hot pool.

So where do foreigners lie on the "freak scale" in Japan? Well, my guess would be somewhere between man with penis growing from cheek to Ronald McDonald the spastic man-clown levels. Basically, pretty high. But that's just me talking.

Some foreigners have even taken this bequeathed "freakiness" and exploited it for monetary gain. This could not only be considered a rational move, but bordering on brilliant. Just check out late night Japanese television to get a taste of what some of these "hyper-freaks" are doing for fame and fortune (Funny how their activities usually gravitate around teaching English). I mean, if it doesn't make any difference, why hang on to that last pointless, shred of dignity? Go on Japanese TV and make a gozillion yen. You won't be the first. And if I can finally muster up the motivation, you won't be the last.

CAUTION: Office time may cause drowsiness. Plus make you an idiot.

Ah...another fulfilling day in the office. At times like these, the most difficult part of the day is figuring out how best to pass the time.

One has so many options from which to choose. Naturally there are the expected courses -- lesson planning (get serious), studying Japanese (boring), or planning an extracurricular/after school activity (Now you're killing me).

It usually takes me 2 hours of intense computer screen starring just to decide. This period of "deep thought" is supplemented with drinking 3 cups of throat-shredding instant coffee leaving me with a satisfied, caffeiny feeling. After this morning ritual, I am ready to begin. The plan is...er...more internet surfing. Followed by raiding the omiyage snack basket in short, guerilla type raids. By days end, I will have eaten half a box of Miffy bean puffs, as well as completely surfed myself into an idiotic haze.

Time to go home and watch some TV!

Monday, June 13, 2005

Greetings -Japanese girl style.

As many of you already know, the focus of my blog seems to be making fun of and mocking my gracious hosts in Japan. This is because I am by nature a cranky and unpleasant person. In spite of this, I was accepted enthusiastically into the JET Programme. No one knows why. But, I digress!

Last weekend a friend and I were futzing around the Sapporo Yosokoi festival observing (for once) traditional Japanese culture on display in the form of dancing, donning exotic costums, and in general whopping it up. Suddenly, our keen fascination was interupted by a series of deafening high-pitched screams being emmitted by a group of 20 something Japanese girls behind us jumping up and down. It appeared they had just won a lifetime supply of Hello Kitty mobile phone ornaments. But in reality, they just hadn't seen each other for a while and were really excited. Apparently this is considered appropriate behavior for female greetings beyond kindergarten in Japan.

Upon witnessing this hyperbolic how-do-you-do, my friend innocently commented that perhaps we should begin greeting each other in a similar manner. I of course said, "You're fucking joking, right?" At which point, she rolled her eyes and walked away in mild disgust. I guess she was.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Oops...I shit my pants. Now what am I going to do? Good thing Japan has underwear vending machines. Well, sort of....

Yes. Japan. The vortex of oddities that never cease to shock me. As of recently I had been under the false presumption that I was officially Japan weirdness acclimated. But this one got my ribs especially tickled last night when I, for a reason I prefer left untold, discovered something new. Japan has underwear vending machines located in bowling alleys. Hmmm.... "Very interesting," says the writer as he strokes his greasy goatee in essence of the great observer. Now every inch of the market has indeed been saturated in this bizarre land. I think I remember reading somewhere, Harper's weekly perhaps, where it is common marketing knowledge that once underwear vending machines show up in bowling alleys, then every capatilistic gap has in fact been filled in a society. The only thing left to do is export the idea to the less fortunate underwear deficient countries throughout Asia. I was referring to India in particular. A place where donning a table cloth is still considered formal wear.

But before I get too carried away with all of this, I should include that the variety offered within the underwear vending machine sphere is in fact disappointingly limited. Actually, it seems to have been completely restricted to dark blue women's thongs. "Now hold on one cotton pickin' minute!", some might say at this point. "Men shit themselves randomly in public at a much higher rate than women." So if accidental public number 2s are the circumtances the business behind the scheme are trying to exploit, then they need to get their shit together a little better than this. But now I must accept the possibility that my belief behind the reasoning for deciding to make a high level decision of placing a thong vending machine in every bowling alley in Japan as being addressing the needs of the undisciplined bowel purjer as, well, wrong . So if the realistic objective of having an underwear vending machine in a bowling alley is not to help out little Shingo-kun after he accidently dribbles a little out the wrong end in celebration for that 200 plus game he rolled. Then why? My only conclusion, and one that I perpetually fall back on again and again remains the same: Beats the fuck out of me!

Friday, June 10, 2005

Living in Asia is great! Nobody even knows what a loser I am back home.

Ah..., the great identity shift that comes when a male relocates himself to Asia. One day we have a sloth like chronic masturbater with the confidence of a street orphan, suddenly transformed into an egotistical juggernaut, swallowing all in its path. Its prey of course being naive below-average-looking Japanese girls that like to hang out in greasy foreigner bars. Oh, the rewards of being advantageously different are great indeed.

But, I must smash the myth, however painful that might be for some. Being white in Japan does not automatically guarantee instant super stud statis for all who come here. I have seen many a cocksure man come to Japan and find that one has to work for it here just like back home. Now, I am not saying by any means that the western foreigner doesn't hold the better hand in the game of sexual chance in Japan, but the women will not instantly be beating down your door looking for more at every opportunity. This false belief is probably circulated by returning expatriots who upon returning to their respective countries, and of course being immediately asked by their friends about their sexual conquest, will naturally give the most exaggerated response possible. This is just a predictable result of the fact that everyman wishes to be the great philanderer. Even if they have to flat out lie to their friends to create such an illusion, which most guys are guilty of in various degrees. But, not me of course. Never.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Oh Shit! It's light out. I've overslept. No...wait, it's 4 am.

Ah.... Life on 45 degrees North in wonderful Japan. Seeming how summer weather is such a rarity in this place, it would make sense that the locals would want to savour every bit of sunshine possible, wouldn't it? No. Not exactly.

A brief explanation is in order. For some reason in Japan, the time has been set so that daylight ceases much earlier in the day than in America. If one is in the lower latitudes of the country this isn't such a big deal, but if one finds themselves in Hokkaido then the sun will set around 7:00 pm in the summer but will have risen at a ghastly hour. If one happens to find themselves at the 45 degree north line, such as myself, one finds that the sun is up and shining vexedly and in all its glory on your face by 4:00 am. This can be exponentially painful when one has been up until 3:00 am the night before pounding cheap Japanese white liquor. But never me of course. In short, it can be painful and cause one to shake their head in disbelief. The people of Hokkaido sleep through some of the best sunlight hours of the day and hence get to enjoy little if none of it after work.

Let us go back to when I first arrived in this little town. After a warm greeting by my new coworkers and being treated to a lovely dinner of yakiniku followed by some homegrown Hokkaido brew, I bid them all adieu and went back to my new apartment for a long rest. Hell, I needed it, after that quagmire of intensity known as the Tokyo arrival orientation had zapped my soul of its life energy. I went back to what would be my new abode for the next two years, fell asleep on a bed of worn cotton linens, and dreamt of my exciting life to come in this new and exotic land. Then, I was of course shortly greeted by the penatrating rays of the sun followed by the squaking of crows at 4:oo am. I haven't had a good nights sleep since.

Once again, I would eventually realize, the northern outpost of this great land must suffer due to the Japanese obsession with sameness. The idea of creating different timezones within Japan must seem like treasonist thought to the government. "All Japan is the same. If we are not all the same, then we are not Japan. Further discussions about Hokkaido having its own timezone are treason, and further perpetraitors of such thoughts will be executed without trial."
Well, maybe not quite that extreme, but Dear Lord, 4:00 am. (The writer slowly shakes his head in disbelief as he stares at the early morning rays of the sun with baggy eyes.)

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Now that I know I'm going to leave, I'm already starting to miss this shithole.

Yes, what a paradox it is. It may seem to be a hideous contradiction, but how is it that one can start to develop a nostaligic feeling for a place before one has even left, and then on top of that, for a place one has done nothing but bitch about like a little girl the entire time they have been there? Oh, the irony of it all. I suppose it comes down to a matter of focus. I basically focus on what is bad about something while I am within its midst, and in turn, focus on what is good about something when it is gone. Is this healthy? Ah, who gives a fuck anyway.

But, really, what will I miss most about my life here? I suppose the immediate answer would be people. Friends, to be more specific. As much as my inate cynicism hates to admit it, there are some pretty nice people around here, and then there are also some complete terds. But, I will try a new tactic today and only focus on the nice ones. At least at first.

An example of one of the nice ones has to be the Sharaku snack-bar mama-san. Wonderful lady. Can't say enough about her. Always pleasant. Has greeted me with a friendly smile from the first time I had the honor of gracing her and her husbands local watering hole. But, what do I really like about her? First, she always gives me a discount, and more importantly she never greets me with a retard-esque "haa-ro" followed by a dorky giggle everytime I see her. For those who don't know, "haa-ro" represents a weak Japanese attempt at the English "hello" layered with a disturbingly thick accent, and then of course mandatorily followed by the dorky giggle. I will not miss the "haa-ro" greeting after I leave. Also, she acknowledges my presence in no different manner when I see her outside of her bar as when I see her inside of it. The Japanese have this socially disturbing habit of being your best friend within certain enclosed places and then acting like you are Patrick Swaze in "Ghost" when they see you outside. I can't even begin to count the number of times I spent an evening drinking and thus, what I thought was bonding with and getting to know some new fellow in the town, and then upon seeing the person the next day having them treat me like I'm some member of the gulag and they are a social dissident on the run. Basically, fleeing from my presence in a cold run for the hills, leaving me standing in the local grocery store with a box of mayonnaise doughnuts feeling all but a little confused at the cultural undercurrents at work. "Oh, so you only like me when you're drunk, huh?"

Maybe the Japanese have something of a "beer goggles" equivalent for foreigners? A translated conversation between two Japanese guys about the above topic might go something like this:

Japanese redneck #1: "Ya man. I must have been really drunk last night to have been talking to that foreigner. You know I would never do that if I was sober right? Right?"

Japanese redneck #2: "Whatever. How many times have you got wasted, Itchi, and then next thing you know you're all over some foreigner dood, talking with'em, and then even trying to get them back to your place to talk some more. You can't fool me."

Japanese redneck #1: "Well, today, man, I saw that guy in the store, and I was like, 'oh fuck! I hope he doesn't remember all the talking we did last night.' But, I think he did 'cause it looked like he wanted to say haa-ro or something, but I just took off when I saw him, and got out of there."

Japanese redneck #2: "Well, at least you didn't give him your phone number and ask him if he would like to get together some time and go fishing or something."

Japanese redneck #1: "Well, ummm..." (getting a little red in the face)

Japanese redneck #2: "No! Tell me you didn't. You idiot! You did give him your phone number. Well, maybe you'll get lucky and he'll never call."

Japanese redneck #1: "Fuck. I hope not."

Monday, June 06, 2005

Am I back in detention?

When one finds oneself as a priviledged member of the elitist organization known as the "JET Programme," there are of course certain adversities one must endure. This should come as no surprise. We are part of an elite unit here in Japan. The creme de la creme as they told us at our pre-departure orientation in a prestigous Portland, Oregon hotel. Adversities are part of the price of being a member of something superlative. Thus, begins my rant for today on the aspect of severe amounts of "office time" that one is never informed about prior to arrival to ones respective locations.

Many JETs, such as myself, find that they have, well, for want of a better phrase, not much to fucking do most of the time. I am referring to a lack of scheduled classes throughout the work week. This might immediately strike the casual reader as an asinine complaint. "What? You want more work? Are you a retard?" No I don't necessarily want more work. What I want is something to freaking do!

A common office policy within contracting organizations of the JET Programme is that in circumstances of JETs not having scheduled classes, they must be present in the office (generally in the Board of Education) for their contractually agreed upon weekly work hours. This generaly translates as 10 hours per week of classes followed by 25 hours per week of thumb inserted tightly in anus. I should note that the general mandatory weekly work hours for a JET are 35 per week, not including lunch breaks. Some offices don't really give much of a shit about keeping the JET on "lock down" in the office for the complete 35 hours and some are more anal than an Oregon redneck about the size of his 4x4 tires. So, when one is not at class one is often sitting at his or her desk with a dulled look from surfing crappy websites all day for entertainment. Some get so good at keeping themselves entertained they might even get a bit chafed when asked to do something pertaining to their expected duties outside of their consitent schedule. "But I was planning on looking at the website about the history of navel fuzz this Monday, and now you want me to translate this recipe for mayonnaise doughnuts into English? Shit! Now I'm all flustered. "

Really, the condition of JETs having to be present within the office when not befuddling and bombarding some poor Japanese child's mind with perplexing English grammar, can be a tedious exercise indeed. Why? Because I have seen CIA sensory deprevation chambers more entertaining than a Japanese government office. As I noted above, some offices see the futileness in "office time." These offices sort of casually, without making a stir, send the JET on their way, hopefully to do something meaningful and productive. Maybe even something within the community at large. Like organizing a beach clean-up day. (The beaches here sure need it.) Or, start a kite flying organization to benefit local midgets. In reality however, the JET just generally returns to his or her apartment to watch TV, and possibly, if feeling especially frisky, sit around and make fun of Japanese people with a neighboring foreigner.


Coming at this from a buisness perspective, I often ponder on the fact that I get paid way too much money for what I do. Shit, I'm being paid right now. I am writing a blog and surfing the net, looking at ridiculous websites on company time. Should I feel guitly for this? Maybe I should request more work? Well, guess what, I have. And, guess what happened? They said, "No." So do I feel guilty anymore? No.

Some JETs even go into deep contract negotiations so they can get paid the same amount for doing even less work. I refer to this modern phenomenon of laziness as "slacker entitlement." Due to my genetic and geographical "luck out" that was my random birth in an affluent English speaking majority country, I am therefore entitled to special privledges that escape the majority of human beings on this planet. Basically, at every opportunity, most of us try to get more time off. The reasoning behind this is quite logical to the disillusioned JET. "We aren't doing or accomplishing anything during the school vacation periods of no classes, so we might as well be doing nothing on a tropical island in South East Asia. So, Mister Supervisor, how does that strike you as a reasonable request?" The insane thing is that sometimes the contracting organizations go for it. The reasons for this continue to escape my feeble mind. But it happens. In this case, I compare the JET to an underworked, overpaid relief pitcher who goes on the DL right after signing a 10 year contract for 5 bizzillion bucks a day, then makes a request that instead of futzing around the bullpen eating all the sunflower seeds and unable to play, can instead just go home and play celebrity golf on their Sony Playstation, whilst simultaneously receiving an inflated paycheck. Ok, that was a clear example of hyperbole to get a cheap laugh, but it does make its point.

I should end this meandering rant by ackowledging that there exists the hyper-motivated JET that impressively utilizes this downtime in an efficient manner such as creating a website, studying for and then passing one of the higher level Japanese proficiency exams, even getting an online masters degree. These few are truly shooting stars in a JET clouded sky. Unfortunately, I am not one of these people. I prefer the history of navel fuzz myself, thank you.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Insert white face here

Insert white face here. The feeling one gets in Asia after being flogged with attention, and then finding out that the same would be given to any foreigner who happened to find themselves in similar circumstances. Of course, initially upon being showered with UUUs and Ahhs, we would all like to believe that we are the worthy recipients of long over due praise. "It's about time I started getting my true deserve!", might even float a top the most egotistical individual's head. But of course, never mine, naturally!

But get fucking serious now! Worthy! Are you freaking kidding me? Worthy of what? Of being white? And if one is truly blessed: towheaded. It becomes a vicious circle of racist thought: Person gets praise by merely being Caucasian, followed by said person feeling worthy of praise because of merely being Caucasian. If one's souce of confidence is derived only from something as uncontrollable as their genetic make-up, well, fuck! I'm jealous. Woe is me for wanting to be worthy of just a little more than being thrust into this world the same color as an intenstine. Kind of a gross thought actually. Sorry. But, please. People of Japan. Must you be so shallow? We are complex human beings here living amongst you. Shit, some of us are fucking insane! And I don't mean the cool, college guy that can drink a shit load of beer and stay up all night insane. I mean mental hospital levels. You all should be worried. Take the time to really get to know a foreigner before you make a judgement. This goes for all citizens of the world. Sorry if it seems as if I am only singling out my current host society, the Japanese. Which I guess, well,...I am.

To further this rant, remember when you saw your first karate films, and thus started to ponder on the idea that all Asian people must be able to do a triple barrel roundhouse kick? Or was that just me...? But, really, this kind of thinking is ridiculous. If you really have to break billions of people in the world into simple catagories, then how about, the good versus the bad, or the stinky versus the less stinky. Let the judgement be made upon witnessing the observed person's actions. Is this really that hard, people? I mean come on? I've broken it down to only two freaking catagories for you. Even my retard trailer trash uncle can process that much in his drug riddled brain.