The lyrics to “Yellow Ledbetter” deciphered.
Month: March 2005
Les Quiz
You’re butch. You have little use for femininity
because frankly, it never got you anywhere.
Guys may find you intimidating, but once they
get to know you, you’re not so bad. You’re
empowered and sometimes stand up for women’s
and gay rights. If you own a motorcycle, you
probably also know how to strip it and perform
your own repairs. If something bugs you about
your house, fixing it is no problem. You may be
a little shy about decking, tile work,
electrical work, plumbing or hanging windows.
Once you figure out how to do it, there isn’t
much holding you back.
What is your Dyke Rating?
brought to you by Quizilla
Damn. I wanted to be a lesbian seagull.
Chibi! Kuro! Sambo!
In the race toward cultural insensitivity, Japan proves to be a proud contender once again! Next month, Japanese publisher Zuiunsha will revive the Japanese version of Little Black Sambo: LINK
I’m buying, like, a thousand copies to hand out in place of business cards.
C. Buddha’s Top Ten Pet Peeves – Updated for 2005
1. People who test ringtones in public.
2. People who cut you off because you decided to drive “nice” today.
3. The phantom butt itch (in public – in private it’s scratchable).
4. Cheerful people on Monday mornings.
5. Cheerful people in general.
6. People.
7. The absence of napkins at many (most?) restaurants in Japan.
8. High society types from Tochigi who pronounce “Tochigi” differently than everyone else.
9. Computer-retarded Powerbook snobs.
10. Gossipy office harpies that spend lunchbreaks painting their faces like whores and have a cow over me “tapping” the copier when it gets jammed and won’t reset.
“Doctor, doctor, I’m manic-depressive.”
Alright, then… Calm down! Cheer up! Calm down! Cheer up! Calm…
“Doctor, doctor, I feel so short!”
No problem. Hop up on the couch.
“Doctor, doctor, people keep telling me I’m ugly!”
OK, lay on the couch, face down.
“Doctor, doctor, I’ve only got 59 seconds to live.”
Wait a minute please.
(I love you sickos, keep the mail coming!)
Suspense (killing you it must be)
I am in the middle of researching the most important subject I will ever post on – that’s right! – even more important than Japanese fish sausage, although if you are the astute type, you already suspect that Japanese fish sausage is somehow involved. You are correct.
Hint: No, I am not covering the 500-foot tall Hello Kitty statue made of squid rings and rapeseed flowers to be erected in Sumoto this weekend.
Also, I am NOT writing about the prime minister of Japan getting a handjob from the US ambassador to the chrysanthemum court in spite of beef imports continuing to be banned (the real reason for this is that Japanese like tough Aussie beef better; just ask any skank you feel up at GasPanic this weekend).
The Power of Rice
Rice is the foundation of the Asian diet, and the mortar in aincent Chinese architecture.
Desert Island
A team of sociologists have planned an experiment in isolation. They send an Englishman, a Frenchman and a Japanese man to a deserted island and arrange to come back and pick them up in a year’s time and see how they have adapted.
The sociologists leave, and the three men decide to split up the tasks amongst themselves.
“I’m an engineer” says the Englishman, “So I’ll handle building a shelter”.
He turns to the Frenchman and says: “You French are pretty good cooks so why don’t you handle the cooking?”
The Frenchman agrees, and the Englishman turns to the Japanese and says “That leaves you to organise the supplies”.
The Japanese man agrees and each man sets about his tasks.
A year passes, and the sociologists return to see how the men have coped.
They expect to find three desperate men, unhappy with having to live on the island, but instead find a huge wooden house with verandas and porches and balconies. The Englishman comes to greet them,and when they express their surprise about the house he just shrugs and says “Yeah well I had a Lot of raw materials so I kind of went to town and did the place up”.
The team are amazed and are shown inside to the kitchen where they’re greeted with the most amazing smell of delicious food.
The Frenchman sees their surprise and just shrugs “I had lots to work with” he says,”This island has loads of edible herbs and plants.”
The team sits down to eat and are about to start when one of them inquires about the Japanese man.
“Oh we don’t know what happened to him” explains the Englishman, he ran off into the woods to sort out the supplies and hasn’t been seen since”.
They all agree that they should try to find the man, and a search party is organised. They make it about 100 yards into the woods, when the Japanese man jumps out from behind a tree, stark naked with half a coconut on his head, and peacock feathers sticking out of his backside, and shouts…
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….. “SUPPLIES!!!”
(profound thx to Osaka Bill – I spit ocha all over my laptop screen in front of my manager)
Playing with fire
I just reviewed a technical journal describing recent work-related accidents in our industry (electronics manufacturing) and came across an incident I coincidentally heard about from another source a few weeks ago. Last month, a manager at a (whatever) factory blew his stack at a worker who was welding together a steel support during factory expansion. He tore this guy a new asshole and made some threats, and told the worker to complete the job before he returned. The job wasn’t finished when he came back, so manager dude decides he’s gonna show the worker how to do the job right… Except he had no formal certification for welding (and thus no formal training on record). Perhaps you see where this is going.
His hair caught on fire. He was not, however, seriously injured. He was also not able to cover up the incident (apparently not for lack of trying; I wonder how he explained the wisps of smoke emanating from his head) and I am just guessing that his “overzealous micromanagement” was grounds for dismissal. Considering the materials he was working with, I think this lesson, if indeed learned, came relatively cheaply.
Dumbass.
“That’s not my belly button, sensei!”
No matter how much amusement it would have provided in the years to come, I could not, in good conscience, allow an acquaintance to name his new children’s English conversation school “Neverland.”
Update: I’m already too late to save this place.