I have a long weekend, so I’m going boarding with my bro and T up near Lake Biwako. We leave tonight and will sleep in the parking lot so we can get in a full day. Tomorrow night, Bill is closing his bar in Nara, so we’ll head there for some apres ski debauchery. Oh, my little cousin Nana broke her brand new Powerbook, so I gotta take a look at that before getting too sloshed, I suppose.
On Sunday, we’ll go visit Nam’s older sister, who flew over from Bangkok this week for a business trip.
Other than that, right now we’re at T’s house waiting for him to finish eating his bowl of soup and listening to Right On, a Last Poets vinyl. It is the angry sound of the street, in a world as far away from this little Japanese house as can be – but the pop and crackle of the record is familiar and soothing, and every single song on this album has been sampled for use in rap songs over the years. I sit here and mentally name the usages of the sampled sections as the record plays. Public Enemy, Jungle Brothers, Tribe Called Quest. To me, this is the sound of one hand clapping.
After the long, rainy drive out from Awaji, I am in danger of becoming immobile, because I am tired, and have found a rare moment of peace. Ah, but now they are calling for me to go. Well… If I must. Just drag me off to the slopes already.
I have known worse moments than this, and tonight I am smiling.
Author: Justin
That’s “Mr. Loading Supervisor” to you
Due to unforseen circumstances, I just spent a whole half an hour 43 minutes supervising forklifts loading a huge truck with our products. You may recall that this is not one of my areas of specialty. Or it wasn’t until today, at least. Now that I can add Forklift Supervisor to my resume, I just might be able to relax a little and can die knowing I am a true leader of… operators. Plus, it was highly educational.
I learned that oncoming traffic respects vehicles with sharp-pointed steel arms protruding from the front. I also learned that the bald, white rubber tires on forklifts combined with a smooth concrete floor make for awesome power slides. Other than that, it was hard to pick up some of the nuances and whatnot, because I was too busy CONCENTRATING ON THE JOB AT HAND, FULFILLING MY WORKPLACE RESPONSIBILITIES, and really wishing I could be LEADING BY EXAMPLE.
I have learned that supervision, for the most part, is for suckers. It turns out that you just sit there bored out of your fucking mind while the peasants toil away and tell fart jokes, which may sound like fun, but sucks big nuts in reality. If you can get past that, you may be ready to be a supervisor.
Your role as a supervisor is simply to be there, and be ready to perform harakiri later if your guys screw up too badly. So you have to stay on top of them and treat them like they’re little children. This is not so hard, because the thing is, they begin hating you and will be jealous of the benefits and respect earned by your increased rank, such as being able to leave your desk without telling people where you’re going. Petty drones.
I was basically born to do this job, I think. For instance, as I supervised to the best of my ability, some of the operators asked if I was sleepy, but I told them the “spaced-out” look on my face was from being concerned with holes in the ozone layer caused by hydrocarbon emissions and would you PLEASE GO THE FUCK BACK TO WORK ALREADY! What, do you think yen grows like seaweed or something? Time is money, money is time! Jeez.
Japan is a gun-free society…
… where people often get shanked.
I never used to be fazed by shit like this in the news because over the years I just became numb to it. When you first start living in Japan, it is hard to understand why the people can be selflessly polite and compassionate on one hand, and yet were feared as such ruthless self-disembowling baby killer rape-happy sadists not so long ago. One hint that perhaps not all is well in modern times, either, is the frequency of shockingly violent/sadistic/twisted incidents reported in the Japanese media. It seems like we hear about classroom slashings, group suicides, and heart-wrenching abuse cases on an almost daily basis, and I just got conditioned to it. I ceased thinking about it for many years.
Then, last year, my sister was stalked up the stairs to her apartment in Osaka. Her quavering voice on the phone, just after it happened, is burned into my memory forever. After the initial wave of brotherly concern/homicidal rage subsided within me, dark feelings started sinking in again. About how the fucked up shit you hear on TV doesn’t just happen to strangers. About how powerless you can be in the face of fate, no matter what precautions are taken or irrelevant “what are the odds” pontifications.
My sister went home to the states in the summer, but to this day, whenever I see a headline about a stabbing at a school in Osaka (way too often), I get that sinking feeling in my gut, my jaw clenches shut, and I taste copper. Time slows down and my shoulders start to feel heavy… But when I snap out of it, I realize my fists are clenched, my teeth ache from grinding together, and I seriously want to destroy some motherfuckers.
MAD?
Not like this guy. Whoa… That’s even more impressive than the parking cone collection I had in my college dorm room! I have a feeling that guy would feel at home in Akiba, for some reason.
Useless factoid o’ the day: I went to middle school with the daughter of Sergio Aragones. Groo!
On Incompetence
Thou art a vile pimple on the arse of humanity, yet it pains to smite thee thusly…
Were it not for the heinous afflictions suffered unto thine colleagues, thou might err justly on the side of righteousness and bear forgivance!
But… Two separate incidents marked with the same gross display of incompetence in the space of a fortnight?
Woe!
Woe, I say!
A pox upon thee!
…
Saving Ryan’s Privates
Back to work after a 3-day weekend (can’t be bothered to remember what Stupid Japanese Holiday it was). Mondays suck but I won’t bore you with the obvious. Much to my surprise I found a possible contender for Most Disturbing Headline Ever – go take a look for yourself: LINK
Yoda Revisited
Looking through some photos I took last year brought back memories of the one-eyed kitten we rescued and eventually named Yoda. His was a happy ending.
My sister took him as carry-on when she went back home to the states last summer. He now lives at my family’s house and apparently weighs more than our Shih Tzu.
I have missed having pets here in Japan.
72 Virgin Goats
It occurs to me that on a scale of Loserdom, a white supremacist with a mother named Maria Del Prado is second only to these suicide bombers you occasionally see on the news whose vests go off prematurely, killing only themselves.
One can only hope these losers spend eternity comparing notes on their failed lives and getting eaten by 72 virgin goats in an oasis of poison oak and concertina wire.
Damn, what was in my coffee today?
Disposable Heroes
How can it be so easy to spot shortcomings in other people while being completely blind to one’s own? For instance, I remember how badly other people’s hypocrisy used to bug me, but I became so used to it, it never fazes me much anymore – to the point where I can justify my own if its pointed out, say, during an argument. I think people build up a resistance to a lot of the bullshit they are confronted with, but only at the expense of their own values. Is this why you sometimes meet old friends only to find that you like the memory of them much better than their actual current selves?
Reading the crap I just wrote above, I now realize I am mumbling to myself online.
Cool.
Panzerfaucito
Too many beans in Chez Whitey’s burrito?
UPDATE: Read the article in the extended entry.