Lunar Livin'

Well, since I couldn't decide if I wanted to live in San Fran or San Juan, I decided to go with the next best option. Yes- it's San-Artemis - and, yes, my children will need therapy. And- yes, I'm kidding. And-yes- that's O.K.

The Unmentionable Platypus

So, to make a nice, curvy human with breasts and muff, we need two X chromosomes. To get a sculpted human with a sexy, albeit odd, protrusion, we need an X and a Y….
So, tell me. Why do we need a set of 10, yes, TEN, chromosomes to determine the sex of a platypus? To be a platypus with muff and give milk, you have to grab XYXYXYXYXY chromosomes. And to be a bill-punchin', man platypus, you gotta bag X times 10. Why is this?
Because a platypus is a Super-hero, that's why!
That's why you can spend US$250 today for a platypus paperweight or bid on the Platypus Zone Sign that I would be dying to have, if only I had a reason to have it.
Moral of the story: I, being a mere XX, have much to fear from the XYXYXYXYXYs! As do the XYs of the XXXXXXXXXX!
The platypuses are coming!

Dubya Hunter

As Hunter S. Thompson is on everyone's mind, I thought I'd thinly veil a blatant Bush Jab beneath a HST quote. Here's what Dude Thompson allegedly said when asked about Dubya's conduct at a 1974 Superbowl party:

"I can't be expected to remember what every drug-addled yuppie hanger-oner who wanted to get close to me during a football game twenty-five years ago digested. There were so many dope fiends milling about, I don't remember what some Yalie named Bush, whose father was a factotum in the Nixon Administration, was doing. But he strikes me as the sort of person I would have thrown out of the room. A rich, beer-drunk yahoo with a big allowance who passes out in your bathtub. ... I don't want to become the Deep Drug Throat. ... I won't do it."

For the full kendo strike bash on Bush, check out the following site (but heed this disclaimer that this blog's author neither supports nor opposes anything found after the mouse click)

G. Dubya Bush

Gonzo

I had a chat with my Japanese washing machine and microwave tonight. Though we all agreed that this was not unexpected (in some form), we couldn't help but feel the burn from the slap of Emotional Shock's combative play.
It was just last week that I was re-reading "Better than Sex" and just two weeks ago that I forced a friend to read "The Rum Diaries" for their first time...
Hunter S. Thompson,...thanks! ..For heart, imagination, satire, beauty, insight, absurdity, talent, balance and unfaltering commitment to being human and living!
For more on the man who has asked me to drink a 6-pack of Asahi beers for him tonight:
The Great Thompson Hunt
G'night!

Happy STD!

Wishing you all a Happy V.D.!
I've gotten a kick out of observing and receiving a lot of Japanese Valentine's Day cards, wishing me a happy v.d.! Honestly, I don't much care whether we're honoring sexually-transmitted diseases, ancient Roman pagan celebrations, blatant commercialism or one of the three Church-recognized “St. Valentines” being caressed by a toothbrush in the catacombs. I DO, however think that one can still be dedicated to Islam with a red rose in their window ( Saudi Morality Police See Red Over Valentine Roses ), that a mighty fine gift for Valentine's Day is “Womanizer Beer” ( 'Womanizer' beer for Valentine's ), and that everyone should show their love every day, including February 14th.
Actually, on second thought, citizens of the planet should only share love on afternoons when it's raining termites (provided that the humidity is just right) and on years divisible by hydrogen's atomic number when multiplied by the number of tax-paying, single chopsticks in Texas.

Tomorrow's Lesson Plan?

And into the veins of a drinking district so complexly overwhelming in its simplicity, I began my search. First, to the ex-pat bars, riddled with cultural controversy and meat-market monopoly; where varrying degrees of travelers and local residents share kompais over beer and Shochu.
But, I didn't find the answer there. No one ever does. That's precisely what gives us all the drive to go to these places: this knowledge that we will never have to confront, never have to bump heads with an answer, a meaning. Only questions, hypotheses and rantings.
Pepper House is a stellar example. A narrow bar with posters of Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, and red, yellow and green adornments painted behind meaningless, plastic marijuana plants. In the bathroom there is a mirror directly infront of the squat toilet. If you are a man, you see your dick. If you are a woman, you see your face framed by your knees. The atmosphere varies night to night, and year to year. Sometimes, it's a cacaphonous, all-gaijin-governed karaoke session. Sometimes, it's just snack-bar, Phillipina girl gossip before work. Sometimes, it's local business owners creating new advertisements and discussing the industry. Sometimes, a place for salary dudes to meet roll-overs from other realms and display their own rented beauties. Often, it's just a healthy, multi-national meat-market competition - everyone looking for some action (sooner rather than later) -
But, in the end, the best lesson plan I found there, was between my knees, in the mirror.
Should have known that my first, instinctual lesson idea was the best....

Witnesses and Media

Two Jehovah's Witnesses just knocked on my door. One was Japanese, the other, American. I thought of inviting them in for tea. They gave me a pamphlet in English about the trials of being a teenager in love, conflicted about religious beliefs. I thanked them, tried out some o f my new Japanese grammar and said goodbye. When they asked me what I was doing, I should have been honest.
"I'm reading an opinionated article about US media pay-offs"
to which they would have replied: "Oh! You miss America! "
"Please join us for our next American Culture meeting!"

...... Shit, another missed opportunity to learn about American culture.....

Anyway, here's what I was doing, for the Jehovah's Witnesses who care:
Money, Media and the Mess in America

Environmental Ed and Toasters?

So, I'm looking into a new program that really excites me:
Audubon Expedition Institute
It's a masters degree program run by the Audubon Society and Lesley University. It's all about environmental education with an emphasis on experiential learning and conflict resolution skills. In this case, that means you get to cruise around on a bus, explore beautiful places, cook your own food and spend your study semesters camping!
It sounds so great that my heart beat actually accelerates to 190 kph every time I think about it, and the north-eastern "blue" state in my brain does a little disco dance!
The program does, however, require that I become a non-religious nun of sorts for two years. Students are required to abstain from tobacco, alcohol, illegal substances and sexual relationships during their time studying. Now, abstinence from personal pollutants I can understand, but.... SEX? That's like asking your toaster to not toast bread anymore. ("Just warm the bread, will you?! Hey--stop! The bread's getting a little black around the edges! Stop trying to do what you were designed to do, you stupid toaster!")
None the less, it sounds amazing and caters to everything I love! This toaster's special. Plug it into a mountain and it builds a fire!

Amnesia and a bed, please

So you wake up one morning. Can't remember the night before, the night before that, or ANY night EVER, in fact. Your brain shoots off messages to any listening muscles. “Please fling the tingling, sleeping arm towards the alarm clock!” But, there is no alarm clock. You look around and see nothing but mountain… And you still can't remember ANY night EVER. So, you decide what you need is a drink and bed.
This is apparently what happened to some guy in Hokkaido who allegedly woke up with amnesia on Mount Horohoro last October.
He is now sentenced with 18 months in prison for stealing sake, wine and a mattress. Article from the Mainichi Daily : Mainichi Daily News

Elephant dung

Though you may not have been wondering about it, I know you will be amused to learn that Japan's current best-selling, English-translated picture book is entitled "Everyone Poops (Minna Unchi)" (Written and illustrated by Taro Gomi).
The book begins with a bang: the over-sized and ambitious result of an elephant enjoying his bowel movement.
"Okii zo wa okii unchi.
Chiisai nezumi wa chiisai unchi.
(A big elephant makes a big poop.
A tiny mouse makes a tiny poop.)"
The book then takes you on a pleasant visual and narrated journey of the aromas, textures and colors of various animals' shite.
Check out this article for more on this fabulous book as well as on Japan's other Must-read picture book: "The Gas we Pass-the Story of Farts" (Written and illustrated by Shinta Cho):
Breaching Poop Taboo a Surprising Success