
Yakiniku is perhaps the most beautiful word in the Japanese language.
LET’S ENGLISH !!!
Reading this article about a study that found early English education in Japan to be useless (link found on Nippon Goro Goro) reminded me of the story of a Japanese kid named Ringo. “Ringo” is Japanese for “apple,” so right away you know that A. this kid’s parents were some really sadistic fuckers (Ringo was his real given name, and in Japan there are no middle names to fall back on) and B. this kid’s probably gonna end up on the news someday for disembowling schoolyard bullies and scrawling “I’m a BAAAD APPLE” in blood on the walls.
Anyhow, Ringo’s parents hired an English teaching acquaintance of mine to teach him English twice a week, 90 minutes per session, which seems all well and good and perfectly normal in a Japanese cram school-mentality sort of way until you hear that Ringo-kun was exactly ONE (1) FUCKING YEAR OLD! Obviously, his parents were on really good drugs or something, because they paid 50 bucks per session for this early education. It apparently is not easy teaching an infant English for a full hour and a half. The teacher said that at first, he made googling noises at the baby but that got boring real fast, so he switched to reading it stories, and later, at the mother’s insistence (she sat in on the classes to change diapers and offer tit, I guess) singing and dancing to please it (I guess you could say that he was Ringo-kun’s little bitch, but that sounds rather unflattering.). I think this points to a certain phenomenon called “smothering with love,” and there were other seriously disturbing signs of this as well.
Ringo-kun was dressed in different clothes every session, with one recurring theme: Ringo. Every piece of clothing had prints or photos of apples on it, and the baby even had a little red apple costume that he was wrapped in before leaving class. Ringo’s mother videotaped every single session, and took an average of one photo every twelve seconds. My favorite story is the time when Ringo’s parents were called in for a parent-teacher meeting and the mother kept pestering the director of the school about her son’s progress (“he can now properly pronounce, ‘WAAAAAAAAAA,’ in English). Apparently, the director managed to keep a straight face the entire time, and even tried to offer “advanced classes” for the baby.
As for the teacher, the last time I saw this guy I asked if he was still teaching Ringo-kun, but apparently his parents had started courses at another school. He didn’t seem too disappointed.
Sona

The Cunningham’s new, unnamed baby girl.
Japanese HOVA
Mr. R.O.C., we runnin’ this rap shit
Memphis Bleek, we runnin’ this rap shit
B. Mac, we runnin’ this rap shit
Freeway, we run this rap shit…
Clear lenses and a GM sticker.
Pipes with no opening.
Mr. Roc.
Notice: My readers can kick your ass
Some of you who follow the comments closely here know that I’ve been subjected to various death threats, etc., over the past year, but I want you all to know it’s truly been a learning experience. I really love the commenters because they’re a true source of knowledge. This blog seems to draw readers from all walks of life. I find that extremely cool. For instance, what other blogger can claim to have readers that smoke crack? (Danielle, I’m not saying that in a bad way. Really. And maybe you just work in a clinic or something, which would be even cooler.)
Can’t you all see?
This is the true beauty of this “Internet” thing that Al Gore invented for us.
The War Book
I found another great archive of posts from Iraq by one of our soldiers (now back home):
Citizen Frank: The War Book
Ben Gay, Astro-Glide, etc.
To the Big Ho: I agree that neither Ben Gay nor Tiger Balm is good for the “Nardic Sack” in winter, but there’s no need to have it sent from the states; they sell it in Namdaemun (see center area of pic).
Update: Which is not to say it’s particularly good at other times of the year or anything.
Infamy
Many Japanese remember Pearl Harbor differently:
Pearl Harbor Part 1
Pearl Harbor Part 2
Then again, I remember a walk in the park back in high school. December 7th. Fountain Valley, CA. An old white guy approached me and said I should be “ashamed to walk outside today.” To be truthful, I had no idea what he was talking about until he started talking about “sneaky Japs,” and got in my face about “what my country did.” Then I remembered what day it was.
I remember wanting to smack him down for a brief second, but turned away in disgust. That’s how December 7 got burned in my memory for all time – some racist nutfuck branded it there.
Insomniatique
Sometimes, late at night, I swear the internet is speaking to itself.
Salaryman’s Tip of the Day 12/3/2004
One sad fact of business on a salaryman level is that an inexperienced vendor is infinitely preferable to an inexperienced client – you can always slap down a vendor, and the inexperienced ones often come back for more. Plus, slapping makes them tougher. A tough vendor is your best ally during a 15-year long economic depression.