French Fries S'il Vous Plaît!

My time in Japan has been filled with many unpleasant experiences, most often due to the vileness of Japanese cuisine. As a result of this, I have been forced to scour the countryside looking for misplaced or forgotten food items that the Japanese have overlooked as too "foreign" or too "delicious." These searches have been met with mixed results, notably in the realm of potato chips. Despite this, I have been able to find one potato product whose very essence continues to amaze and astound all of my senses and emotions. Of course I am referring to the wonderful deep fried miracle, the french fry. The salty snack has an almost uncanny ability to be found in every nook and cranny of the planet, including rural Japan. Some may say that its increasing prevalence throughout the world is the natural result of American culture's parasitic encroachment into foreign markets. Of course I find this to be utterly ridiculous, and anyone who has experienced the pure ecstasy that comes with french fry consumption will surely agree with my opinion. Therefore, this blog will be devoted to heralding the age of the french fry, as well as providing a forum for me to share my own stories. It is through this particular blog that I hope to convert those who have unwisely chosen to avoid the french fry due to their desire to maintain good health, and the ability to move without sweating.

I can't remember the first time I ever ate a french fry, but I'm sure it was an experience that I would never forget. The one thing that I do know is that the first time sent me on a path of almost constant longing for deep fried deliciousness. This addiction resulted in a childhood spent chasing the golden rabbit, and even caused my weight to balloon to a whopping 100 lbs before the age of 12. As I entered my teenage years I eagerly awaited the opportunity to enter the true bliss that can only come through employment at a local fast food restaurant. At 16 I got my wish and was given the truly prestigious opportunity to offer my services among the royal retinue of the "Burger King." I can honestly say that this was probably the happiest time of my life, and that if I hadn't had a desire to enjoy a better job somewhere else, I would still be there today. The next couple years were spent pursuing childish and irresponsible dreams, notably attending university and shaping my personality. Despite this, university provided me with a seemingly rare opportunity to travel. I immediately realized the endless potential inherent in traveling, and began to prepare to go to France for the explicit purpose of french fry consumption.

Before I continue any further, I feel that I should warn my readers about the apparently dangerous repercussions you may experience if you read any further. I have decided to use this blog as a forum to blow wide open the lie that has surrounded the french fry. Therefore, if you choose to lead a life in ignorance and free from constant persecution, I suggest you stop reading and wait for next week’s entry. For those of you seeking the truth, I am grateful for your resilience. For years, there has been a shroud of mystery surrounding the french fry and its country of origin. I am here to tell you that I have conclusive proof that the french fry is... from France. Many francophobes have argued for years that the french fry is most likely Belgian. Fortunately an exhaustive report carried out by the American Congress in 2002 proved the truth of my claim. In fact they went so far as to rename french fries, "freedom fries", as a way to express their new found freedom from the misconceptions surrounding its origin. It was with this secret knowledge that I traveled to France and paid homage at the historic site where the french fry was created. I found the obscure shrine named after the creator, Mack Donald, and proceeded to give thanks for his gifts. It was then that I achieved enlightenment, and my mission became clear. I would travel the world eating fries, and spreading the message of their deliciousness. I left the temple with a clear conscious, and a resolute mission.

Ever since that day in 2003 with Father Donald, I have worked tirelessly to preach the good news. Through my work, numerous "McDonald's" shrines have opened all over the world. It seems people can't resist the amazing message propagated by the temples, and I can assure you that I am completely responsible. Although, I think I have done a fine job, I am beginning to realize that the french fry is bigger than me. I recently ate at a Gusto restaurant (considered by many to have the best food in Japan), and discovered that the fries tasted exactly like those that you can receive at an American steakhouse! It was then that I knew that french fries did not need me to spread the message, and that "McDonald's" was not the only place one needed to go to find enlightenment. I even had discovered a small enclave of french fry appreciation and production in a supermarket in Daito. It was then clear to me that my mission was over. I had spent over three years of my life filling out my mission, but now it must end. I have chosen to complete my mission at the end of the year, but not before preaching one last message. The french fry is omnipotent, and omnipresent. It is the alpha and the omega, the light on a dark night. It is made from the potato, the gift that Jesus first gave to the Hebrews. It is baptized in oil, as a sign of its rebirth and regenerative abilities. It is perfect in every way and I hope that all of you will succumb to the wonderful taste and happiness that the french fry brings. I know that it has given me the gift of eternal happiness, at the relatively small cost of my complexion, weight, and health. I think you will all see that if you give life to the french fry, it will shape your life in a similar fashion.

Silver Tuna Tonight!

If you don't recognize the title of this blog, then it is with great regret that I inform you that all of the achievements in your life are obsolete when compared to this grave and terrible oversight. For those of you who are aware of the title's meaning, it is with great joy that I remind everyone that the time of year for viewing "Home Alone" is once again upon us. I was fortunate enough to view the movie last week, and I can say that the film has not lost any of its genius. The graphic violence inflicted upon the two burglars is just as humorous today as it was when I first saw it all those years ago. In addition to "Home Alone", I have had the good fortune to enjoy a repeat viewing of the Tim Allen comedy classic, "The Santa Clause". A true work of art, Tim Allen's attempt at holiday cheer has stood the test of time unscathed. Despite this, I feel there are many people who have failed to give these films the merit they deserve. Therefore, it is with a strong purpose that I have decided to write this blog to convince unbelievers to include these movies in their hierarchy of holiday films. Therefore, I will be devoting this week’s entry to two of the greatest pieces of human expression in recorded history.

I will begin by discussing Tim "The Tool Man" Allen's magnum opus, "The Santa Clause." This movie was issued to most middle class Caucasians, and chances are that you have a copy of it in your home. The movie starts with an Al Borland-less Tim Allen basking in the accolades of a successful professional career. Despite this, things could not be worse for the "Tool Man". The divorced father of one is quickly losing the love and respect of his son, and it only gets worse after Tim soops up his oven to give it "aaargh aaargh aaargh, more power", and burns Christmas dinner. The hijinks begin after Tim murders Santa Claus and puts on his suit. After (for some reason) deciding to fly around the world and deliver presents, he returns to the North Pole where he meets Bernard. Bernard devastates Tim by informing him that since he wore the suit, he now has to be Santa Claus. Tim is understandably livid about the turn of events, and proceeds to inform Bernard that the actor playing him will be referred to as "Bernard" for the rest of his professional career in film. The whole experience ends with Tim and his son waking up the next morning in their beds. Throughout the next year, Tim drives his son to the brink of mental stability by claiming that the experience was only a dream. Despite this, it is obvious that Tim is beginning to take on some of the physical characteristics of Santa Claus. Confused and without direction, Tim decides to consult Wilson. Wilson encourages Tim to stop lying to his son, (thus saving the boy from certain insanity) and embrace his new career. The movie concludes with scenes of Bernard eating turkey, love expressed through the burning of child-custody papers, and an adult male receiving an Oscar Mayer weenie whistle. While my memory of this movie may paint it in a neutral light, I would encourage all to pick up this movie and share it with your family during the holiday season. After all, there is nothing that sets my heart a flutter more than convicted drug dealer Tim Allen entering the homes of young children with toys that may or may not have been altered to give them, aaaarrhhhh...eeeehhhh, MORE POWER.

The next and final film has a special place in my heart. When I left home for university, I made a point of including this VHS in my bag, just in case the time came to cozy up with Kevin McCallister as he defended his home from the notorious "Wet Bandits." As many of you have guessed, the movie I'm referring to is the holiday masterpiece "Home Alone." While easily recognized by most intelligent people as one of the greatest movies of all time, it is during the holiday season that the film really shows its true potential. Many people have attempted to undermine this movie by pointing out supposed "weak" points in the plot, but I am here to tell you that truth is stranger than fiction. In fact, "Home Alone" is based on the true story of Kevin McConelly, a boy whose family went to Paris for 6 months before realizing he was missing. While they were gone, Kevin was forced to team up with a serial killer (the South Bend Shovel Slayer) to stop some petty thieves. While the Christmas classic ends with the S.B.S.S. reuniting with his long lost family, in real life he ended up killing Kevin and using his body to salt the sidewalks. Despite the sinister history behind the story, the movie does a good job of ignoring the real life murder of Kevin, and instead focusing on the attempted murder of the burglars, Harry and Marv. We cheer Kevin has he inflicts third degree burns on Harry's head, and maims Marv's feet beyond repair. All the while, a part of us hopes that he will kill one of them so that future burglars will leave our VCR's and copies of "Angels with Filthy Souls" alone. In conclusion, I would like to applaud "Home Alone" for promoting the traditional family values of violence and profanity. This film has given us such great lines as, "Kevin you are such a disease", "I'm gonna chop off your cajones, and boil them in motor oil," and of course, "Look what you did, you little jerk!" This accurate representation of the family unit inspires me to instill in my future children the positive aspects inherent in crude language and life-threatening assault.

In conclusion, I would like to thank Hollywood for making such uplifting and inspirational holiday cinema. Nothing compliments the true meaning of Christmas more than violence and destruction. Therefore, I encourage everyone who wishes to cement their place in the materialism and commercialism of Christmas to go out and buy these two films. Many believe that true meaning behind Christmas is lost to the modern world. Through the annual viewings of these two brilliant films, it may be possible to return, albeit partially, to the way the holiday was originally intended.

On Marriage...

Before I begin this entry, I would like to apologize for my tardiness in writing this week’s blog. I have been suffering from an intense case of writers block based on the fact that my life in Japan has entered a routine rife with uninteresting details and standard frustrations. As a result, the majority of my recent entries have been lacking in some of the (intended) humor that I had originally planned, and instead have focused on the airing of my own personal views and ideas. Therefore, the purpose of this particular blog will be two-fold. First, I would like to make a call to anyone who still has time to read my reflections, to please leave suggestions for future writings in the comments section found at the end of each blog. I assure you that that I will give equal consideration to all ideas and look forward to seeing how many submissions I receive. Also, I would like to make it perfectly clear that the relative lameness of any idea should not be a deterrent for posting advice, my acceptance of any proposal should be ample proof of my dire need for new material. Finally, the second part of this blog relates to my previously mentioned penchant for using my blog as a forum to express my views on particular issues and ideas prevalent in the western world. Therefore I would like to continue by relating my own personal beliefs concerning the most sacred symbols of adulthood and success, marriage.

In a period of my life when everyone and their mother are getting married, I am beginning to realize that the questions concerning my own matrimonial plans will increase. It is in response to this question that I wish to briefly reveal my own feelings concerning the institution. Last summer I attended my first wedding. I agreed to go not because of any real desire to see the event, but because of loyalty to my friend and a desire to see people who I had not had the fortune to visit in some time. I arrived at the wedding with a sense of foreboding, which was confirmed when I was given the opportunity to bear witness to the overblown extravaganza that seems to be typical of American wedding ceremonies. I tried my best to enjoy the event (mostly due to my friendship with the groom), but I found everything to be incredibly unnecessary and thoroughly decadent. It was with equal disdain that I look forward to the plethora of weddings requiring my attendance that await me in the near future. Now, before I continue, I want to make clear that my feelings concerning wedding ceremonies bear no reflection on the love that exists between the two major participants. The purpose of this blog is not the call into question "love" or any of the emotions that generally come with it. I am truly happy for all of those who succumb to love and I wish the best for all of those who take the plunge. In any event, the experience galvanized my opposition to the institution of marriage and caused me to begin to devote serious thought to its place in my life.

Love exists. The seemingly selfless acts perpetrated in the name of love are countless and bear witness to the reality of an emotion that causes us to truly care about and cherish another person. Of course there are some who would argue that the idealized form of love so often hoped for rarely shows itself, and that it is fundamentally against nature to spend a lifetime with only one person. Reality shows us that only the ablest of men and women are capable of denying the urge of nature to procreate often and with numerous partners, i.e. cheating. Of course this fact does not negate the veracity of love, but instead opposes the common western views on morality that are primarily based on particular religious beliefs. According to the NCHS (National Center for Health Statistics), 7.5 out of every 1000 people were married in the United States during 2005. These marriages were no doubt based on a genuine belief that their mutual love was boundless, and therefore eternal. Unfortunately, 3.6 out of every 1000 people filed for divorce that same year, almost half. The question remains, is it a problem with love, or the flaws inherent in it the institution of marriage? It is a fact that the divorce rate has risen in the later half of the 20th century. Many point to the breakdown of the family unit coupled with waning religious influence on the masses as possible causes for this alarming statistic. Unfortunately, this data is misleading due to the fact that the often lauded family unit was rarely a happy one, and that "romantic" marriages of the past were less due to genuine feelings of love, and more as a means to provide economic stability for each of the partners.
(Note* the divorce statistics that I cited can be reviewed at the CDC's website at, http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/divorce.htm)

Fortunately the above reasons will not affect those rare couples who have discovered the precious gift of true love. To them I would like to pose the question concerning the relevancy of marriage from a purely romantic and rational standpoint. Before I begin, I would like to reveal the shocking truth (to those of you that know me) that I am far from romantic. I will admit that many of my attempts at romance have been at best half-hearted and at worse, absurd. Despite this, I still believe that I have an eye for what it is, and registering your love with a local government office is far from passionate acts usually equated with true love. One of the common arguments in favor of marriage, is that the insurance and tax breaks that come with it not only secure the married couple, but these financial breaks also help provide much needed financial assistance for any children that result from the nuptials. These reasons hark back to the economic reasons for marriage that I previously discussed, and also make the case that some of the people who have chastised me for not wanting to get married were making their decisions on reasons that were not entirely based on love. On the other hand, there are many who claim that the public celebration of love shown at a wedding ceremony is not because of the economic concessions. They argue that marriage in this fashion is incredibly romantic due to the fact that you and your partner are announcing to the world an undying and eternal love (for 50% of the population). I would respond rather cynically, that I can tell all of those who are important to me that I love a particular person. I don't need an elaborate and expensive ceremony to truly love my partner. In fact, it seems that the wedding ceremony is little more than vanity project veiled by outdated religious tradition.

Many people have shunned some modern ideas of "open" marriages and permanent non-marital relationships. They argue that these new approaches are inherently flawed, and that they leave the door open for vice. Many conservative thinkers condemn these arrangements and cite often misquoted and mistranslated piece of religious text to justify their argument. In turn, it is these people who usually fall victim to the "sins of the flesh", and become the very statistic they preached against. In conclusion, I want to tell everyone that I love my girlfriend and that I intend to stay with her as long as I can sustain my feelings for her. Despite this, I don't feel that our love has to be validated with a certificate and rings. I also feel that what we have is more significant than tax breaks and joint insurance plans, more important than ceremony and pompous precedence. I urge all of those who feel that they truly love their partner to not fall victim to tradition, but instead to cherish each other and create your own. Only after escaping the economic and societal pressures that marriage imposes on a couple to remain together, will it be possible for love to be the only glue needed for a couple to spend a lifetime in a union of true and legitimate bliss.

Tales From Home Pt. 3: Are You Ridin'?

As with any experience of youth, there are always events that you look back on with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. For me, the bus rides to and from school during my high school days is one of the few events that generate a legitimate longing for my life back in Pennsylvania. The characters I met and the events I participated in still generate feelings of delight six years since my last ride home. Therefore, I felt that it was my duty to share with the world many of the stories that occurred, as well as elaborating on the wide range of personalities present. I will begin with a brief synopsis of the characters and the finally I will share some of my favorite stories. I would also like to warn the reader that many of these accounts occurred during my younger days, and therefore some things may appear to be stupid. I can only respond by confirming your opinion, but I believe that the comedic value of the stories will shine through nonetheless.

To begin, I would like to go over the characters that helped ensure that the events on the bus would live throughout the ages. First there was me, my friend Ric, and occasionally Jesse (To see a more detailed story concerning them, please look at Tales From Home Pt. 2). Next there was...
-Dr. Rochucknick, a.k.a. Charlie, a guy who thought he was cool, (and was interestingly treated that way by most, including me)but wasn't. His physical stature was eerily similar to Sonic the Hedgehog villain Dr. Robotnik.
-Clint "Clit" Snyder, a big fat guy with hearing aides, who screamed anytime someone got near him or his aides, needless to say we spent many days slapping Clint's ears. He sucked a lot and spent most of his early life wrestling Ric for what he believed to be the ultimate prize, the very back seat of the bus.
-"Best Friend" a.k.a. Teeth and Gums. This fat piece of crap had the second highest male voice I have ever heard. We made fun of him for loving his mom and for being poor. He always had cheese in his teeth, thus his flattering nickname. His real name has unfortunately been lost to the ages. There wasn't anyone on the bus who even claimed to be his "best friend", it was a name he had given himself in order to tell his mother that he indeed had friends.
-B.J., an incredibly violent young man with a seemingly endless supply of money. His parents attempted to buy his love due to their absence, and therefore he relished in the fact that he could be wasteful without reprecussions. He always seemed to color his clothes with permanent markers, usually drawing skulls. His claim to fame was the seemingly careless destruction of his own personal items. He once threw a Nintendo 64 controller into a tree out of frustration, and to my knowledge, it is still there today. He is also famous for shooting Caleb point blank in the face with a paint ball gun.
-Caleb Mitchell, a child whose constant beatings from B.J. ensured a less than stable mental condition. This poor kid was locked out of the house by his parents whenever they wanted to watch "Star Trek". He was forced to spend most of his life away from home, and his slow mental condition resulted in numerous hilarious moments for us. He may also be the ugliest boy I've ever seen as well, as a blond afro and big yellow teeth don't usually stimulate positive responses.

-Matt Blystone a.k.a. "Larry Guido", the guy who coined the nickname "Teeth and Gums" (see above). He is famous for his farsighted humor, as well as the famous act of peeing off a bridge on people.
-The Gay Ghost Ben Giles a.k.a. Window Boy, we never knew this kids name, so we made one up for him, thus Ben Giles. The door to his house was permanently sealed, so the poor unfortunate youth used his window to enter and exit his home. Naturally we made fun of him a lot.
-Jason Warner, this kid only sat with us because he got on the bus earlier than we did. We all hated him, and before Caleb was around, we spent our time beating him up. Rumors abound, but it's possible that he may have had more than just a "friendly" relationship with his dog, Oscar.
-Finally, the star of this particular blog. J-rod, a.k.a. Jared Ward. This boy had the highest male voice I've ever heard. J-rod also had intense anger issues, and absolutely loved weaving profanity into his rants about his mother. I have a feeling that this particular person has killed someone or that he himself has been killed since I last saw him.

All of these characters were forced to come together every day in order to return home after a grueling day of high school. As a result, many interesting occurrences transpired. In order to give the reader the most complete representation of the type of activities that took place on the bus, I have chosen three stories that I believe adequately relate the type of personalities present. Therefore I have chosen to tell one about Clint, Caleb, and finally J-rod. I hope that these three brief accounts can fully relate the joy that I experienced on the bus.

Clint was constantly angry at us. We always used to make fun of his weight, his (also fat) sister's penchant for eating chocolate covered jelly-filled meatballs dipped in butter gravy, and of course his hearing aids. We hated him since we were younger, but his post-pubescent weight and height made him believe that he now had the right to stand up to our insults! The bus rides were a constant struggle between the majority of us, and the 200 lb. Clint. In one memorable shouting match complete with the usual abuse of his hearing aides, the making fun of his ugly face, as well as other assorted insults, someone shouted a Clint, "You are such a dick!" Clint, whose weight could only be equaled by his lack of intelligence, shouted back, "Well, I'd rather be one than have one!!" The hilarity that ensued at Clint's expense was unparalleled. Unfortunately for Clint, we were high school students, so that short moment of stupidity would never be forgotten by us or him. I saw him a few years ago on a brief visit home, and he greeted me only with a middle finger.

Caleb Mitchell was a very stupid boy. Considerably younger than most of us, his life had been one of constant assault by B.J. In fact the beatings had become so regular, that B.J. would often punch Caleb for our amusement. It seems that the frequent thrashings had slowed down Caleb's pain receptors, so much that there was a marked delay from the period of pain to the moment that his brain responded. During one famous occasion, our bus was going over a rather rough road (as were all the roads in my home town), and naturally there was a lot of bouncing. On one particularly large bump Caleb came up and hit his head (rather hard if I remember correctly) on the glass window. His face went from the usual placid confusion to extreme pain in a lightning fast four seconds. Caleb uttered the now famous lines, "ummm, ummm, ouch?" Afterwards, Caleb fell down in his seat to nurse the bump that had no doubt formed on his forehead. This event helped solidify Caleb's popularity on our bus, and we attempted to replicate the experiment through constant beatings.

Finally, last but certainly not least is J-Rod. As mentioned previously, J-Rod vehemently hated his mother and her restrictions on his Playstation playing. One of his most famous lines being, "My mother f*****g mother only let me play my f*****g Playstation for three f*****g hours!!! She is such a c**k sucking b***h!! To which we would all laugh. Despite this, one his famous stories has become the stuff of legend. One day, one of the girls who sat near the front of the bus was making fun of J-rod for his incredibly high voice. The gist of the conversation dealt with the existence of J-rod's testicles. As he got angrier, J-rod began to do his trademark clenched fists and red face scream. Finally, in a fit of rage, J-rod dropped his pants, exposing his all too real testicles. Jiggling them in an undoubtedly taunting fashion, J-rod then screamed, "Oh Yeah!, Suck on these b***h!!" That was the last appearance of J-rod on the bus, as he was no doubt permanently suspended. Despite this, the brilliance of the execution of such a ballsy (pun intended) act deserves applause.

Unfortunately it would take to much time to relate all of the amazing stories that occurred on the bus. J-rod stories alone could occupy an entire entry, and it is with regret that I do not have the time to further document the adventures of Matt Blystone, Dr. Rochucknik, The Gay Ghost, or countless others. Perhaps in the future I will once again mine the archives of my memory and present the world with other stories pertaining to the wonderful hour and a half I spend on the bus on my commute to and from school. Until then, I hope that the stories above will suitably placate the urge for childhood insults and violence, that we all desire from time to time.

A Thanksgiving Tradition

Regardless of its murky origins, Thanksgiving has become one of the purest of American traditions. It remains one of the unique holidays that have avoided most of the negative features of exploitation showered on many other American celebrations. Free from the religious and marketing undertone seen in Christmas and Easter, as well as the nationalistic tendencies inherit in Independence Day, Veterans Day, and Memorial Day, Thanksgiving remains a day relegated for family to unite and enjoy a meal while appreciating the good things in life. Despite the seemingly wonderful intentions of Thanksgiving, there is always a percentage of the population removed from the festivities. What if you hate turkey? What if you don't have a family? What if aren't (gasp) American? If you answered yes to any of those questions, then Thanksgiving must be a bitter pill to swallow. It is with these people in mind that I'm looking to start a new Thanksgiving tradition. In the next few paragraphs I hope to detail my new hope for the holiday by relating my own Thanksgiving activities. I believe that only through proper implementation of my own ideas, will it be possible for those outside of the American mainstream to enjoy a day that must have left some people utterly depressed about their place in life.

My own descent into Thanksgiving pariah began two years ago while I was attending university. I was in my third year and due to work, I was unable to return home to enjoy the bounty usually presented before me. Believing that a day with Turkey would not cause too much harm, I dropped my laundry off at a friends apartment, (his mother did the laundry for me, a debt that I still feel some responsibility for) and went home to settle into a normal days routine. As my body began to realize that this Thursday in November might not result in Turkey consumption, I quickly grew weaker and even found myself turning on the "Macy's Thanksgiving Parade" to placate it. Realizing that my day alone at home would not be sufficiently depressing upon retelling the story, I decided to go to the local grocery store and buy some sliced turkey and instant stuffing. As I prepared my feast, I was delighted by the knowledge that my story would generate genuine sympathy and that people would truly believe that I longed for all the trappings of tradition. I finished the day full from my turkey and went to work realizing that I would be surrounded by similar souls who for one reason or another had also been given the honor of being torn from their turkey to work on the holiday.

One year later, I found myself in a similar position due to my work schedule. The delight that last years story had brought me, made me committed to the idea of topping it. Despite this, I also realized that this years tale would mainly be intended for my friends, and therefore planned accordingly. Therefore, I purchased a boneless turkey and even some frozen corn! I also made sure to mention to anyone who asked (or didn't ask) that my girlfriend was off in Japan, and that I was very sad. It is with all these aspects in place that I preceded with the ultimate act of isolation. I must warn you now, what I write next may be difficult to believe. So, it is with great trepidation that I inform everyone that this was the moment that I commenced in viewing the entire Star Wars saga. Close to fourteen hours of non stop science fiction greeted me as I wallowed in the pain of being alone. Everyone who heard this story winced and wondered how I had survived this self-inflicted torture. As I finished my last year of university, I was prepared to cease my new ritual. I did not know then, that I would have at least one more year to prepare for the ultimate act of Thanksgiving solitude.

My year in Japan has been filled with numerous changes that I feared would permanently end my two years of Thanksgiving tradition. My life with Leslie has been good, and I assumed that November 23rd would eventually come and that we would have a pleasant evening in our home. It was at the moment of my greatest doubt that Leslie as if by accident chose to visit some friends in Kyoto on the very day that my custom had begun, only two years ago. Realizing the potential of the gift given to me, I quickly prepared to celebrate my third Thanksgiving alone. Lacking even fundamental food, I chose to eat (an unintentionally even more depressing) spaghetti and meatballs. Looking for some holiday entertainment, I went to the local video store and picked up one of the worst films I have ever seen.

The movie, "Blood Gnome",may be the biggest waste of money ever spent. I'm not sure if it was soft-core pornography, but the amount of nudity within the movie makes a good argument in favor of this theory. The film quality was little better than amateur, and the plot absolutely unwatchable. The story revolved around a character (who looked liked Steven Perry from "Journey") who investigates violent crimes. When creatures begin attacking people, he is the only one with an infrared camera capable of seeing them. The movie continues with brief scenes of Steve and the Gnomes conversing via Instant Messenger, culminating in a violent moment where he kicks one in the crotch. Despite this, the movie made a more than adequate addition to the growing library of bad movies that I have had the pleasure to view in my life.

In conclusion, I would like to help all of those who may have answered "yes" to the questions originally addressed at the beginning of this entry. I hope that my story has served as an inspiration to everyone who fails to fit the narrow interpretation of who can celebrate Thanksgiving. It is with this mind that I urge all to start their own tradition of finding some of the most depressing actions, and doing them in order to generate sympathy. I assure you that it is really enjoyable, and that just the idea of performing tired stereotypes of people who are alone is worth its weight in gold. I look forward to next year with impending delight. I only hope the new custom that I have created will someday supplant the turkey eating common in the U.S. today. Until then, if you need me on Thanksgiving, I will be the broken man soaking the cold turkey sandwich with tears rooted in a loneliness that only comes from abject isolation.

Jesus Christ! Will You Please Stop Using My Name in Vain?

Any memories from my childhood would not be complete with referencing the Sunday ritual of attending the local evangelical church. As I got older, I was constantly told that there were certain things that I should not do or think, because the result could be an eternity of damnation. Despite this, I was told that God was love, and that he didn't hate me, but what he did hate was sin. My young mind was unable to understand a faith that promoted the idea of an all powerful God who had curiously created the opportunity for sin to enter the world, then immediately became submissive to its existence, unable to save us despite a seemingly honest desire to do so. Finally as I reached my teenage years, and begin to grasp the fact that God needed a blood sacrifice from his only (why just one?) son to right the wrong he himself created, I realized that the very nature of the story had irrevocably caused an immediate and permanent break from Christianity. (Many may argue that original sin is the product of the dark angel Lucifer, but why did God give one of his angels the sin of pride, before sin had even entered the human psyche?) Despite my differing opinions concerning Christian theology, my intention for this blog is not to debate the legitimacy of the Christian faith, but instead to frame a discussion concerning the many likes and dislikes of God himself. As previously mentioned, my Christian indoctrination has allowed me the knowledge of God's particular dislikes when it comes to abstract philosophical matters. For example, I can say for certain that God hates sin. I have also learned from many right wing politicians that God has as venomous hatred of any economic system other than Capitalism. Despite this knowledge, these facts have not helped us get to know the entity that is God any closer. In order to truly know God I feel that it is necessary to interview him and talk to the entity itself. How does he live? Is he like us in some ways? Does he sometimes squander his paycheck on new Christian Rock CD's? Does he enjoy unleavened bread? All of these questions had entered my mind, so you can imagine my surprise when God consented to an interview. The following is a complete transcript of my discussion with the famous Judeo-Christian God.

C.H.: God, it’s nice to finally meet you.
God: Nice to see you again. I want to say first that I will not answer any questions relating to hot button issues. So please don't ask me any questions about homosexuality or abortion. I just urge all to use their minds and realize that times change and sometimes love between consenting adults or practical matters trump the musings of ancient scholars who believed that the reason we speak different languages is because I got upset over a building in Iraq that they were building. I mean honestly you would think if that was the case, there wouldn't be an urban construction crew in the world who could speak the same language. So, before you say anything. I urge all to do what they know is right and stop citing me as a way to justify your prejudice.
C.H.: Okay. In that case, I want to begin by congratulating you on a fine job with earth, it’s not perfect, but I sense that you work in mysterious ways.
God: Aaah, yeah! I do work in mysterious ways, but let’s be honest. I do not influence everything, people die, disasters happen. I don't really mess with that kind of stuff because of the guilt that comes with the mass slaughter of innocent people. My taste for genocide waned after I helped eliminate the Canaanite people from Palestine after the Jewish exodus from Egypt. I have been working since then to strengthen my reputation as a just and loving God.
C.H.: Is that true? The exodus and the elimination of the descendants of Cain, whom you promised to protect?
God: It has to be, it’s in the Bible.
C.H.: Fair enough. What is it that you occupy your time with today?
God: Well, I have become quite accustomed to sitting in heaven, and admiring my streets of Zinc.
C.H. Zinc? I thought they were gold?
God: Yes, well despite the claims on earth, I am not a fan of capitalism. I made some unwise investments in penny stocks hoping for the big return, but unfortunately the Asian recession coupled with some poor decisions by my broker has forced me to liquidate my assets. I'm beginning to feel the pinch, especially since I have to keep fighting off acquisition attempts from Hell.
C.H.: So, contrary to belief, you are not a supporter of Capitalism?
God: No, how could I be. I love everyone equally. I do not show favoritism and I can not justify one group of people having more privileges and luxury than another.
C.H.: Interesting. Well, the purpose of this interview was to find out about your general likes and dislikes. There are many groups who claim to speak for you when they say that you hate certain things like gays or abortion. I was wondering if you could tell me about the more mundane things you hate.
God: (laughs) I sense you are hoping to gauge my response as a way into what I said I would not talk about, you are clever, but keep in mind I'm the one who gave Solomon the brilliance needed to decide which woman was the true mother of the child he intended to cut in half. So watch it!
C.H.: Okay, I'm sorry. Please continue.
God: Well, let me see. I really hate contemporary Christian music. It’s so stupid, and the lyrics are forced. Look, when you pigeonhole lyrics so that they only ever talk about one specific topic, then the music will naturally be lame. Plus all these Christian bands believe I'm somehow influencing them. That’s not true; I only ever helped one band make it, and that was REO Speedwagon.
C.H.: Really, okay anything else
God: Well, since I'm God, I don't really hate much. I don't really like unleavened bread; I created yeast for a reason. I don't know where the Jews got that idea. Hmmmm, well one surprising fact is that I still have a healthy respect for Lucifer. He has balls, and I'm still smitten with how beautiful I made him. He and I disagree, but contrary to belief, I did not kick him out of heaven. I am God, and I realize simple disagreements should not break up old friendships. Sure, we aren't as close as we used to be, but we are both excited for the new Nintendo Wii and I'm sure he'll be around to play it as soon as I can get one.
C.H.: So you and Satan are friends?
God: Yeah of course, we did not agree over what direction dinosaurs should go. I realized that it was an evolutionary dead end. He urged patience. I eliminated them and he was bitter. We are getting closer though, especially with how ridiculous things are getting on earth.
C.H.: So you don't hate as much as commonly believed?
God: No of course not, I saw you had a photo saying I hated what... Bacon? What?!? I love bacon! I don't know where people get some of the information, but I do see that in order to show the utter importance of your point of view, it is important to make people believe that I have a problem with it. I assure you that many of the things people I say I hate are not true, and if you want to know the truth, I urge you just to ask me.
C.H.: Anything else? Anything that you love?
God: Well, I really love everything, especially Arby's Melts and the movie "The Postman". I think that it was severely underrated. Look, I have spent an eternity trying to make others see that love should be the paramount emotion, and that it should never be ignored in favor of biblical aspects that are irrelevant for modern society.
C.H.: One final question. What do you say to people who don't believe in you?
God: That's a good question. Look faith is what it is. It's not for everyone. I completely understand that it’s a poor excuse for living a Christian, Muslim, or Jewish lifestyle, and I also realize that it’s not for everyone. My only advice is that those who have chosen to accept life as an end in itself also know that it is not their place to dash the hopes of those who need faith to explain their seemingly meaningless existence. For some people it is comforting to believe that good actions will earn just reward and that every thing in life is part of some great cosmic plan. As a result I must also warn against the juxtaposition of personal religious ideas into the wider world. One individual's conception of reality may be different than someone else's. So I would like to finish by urging everyone to follow the "Zinc Rule" and treat others as you would like to be treated. Please stop hating things, unless of course its Christian Pop music, that’s garbage. Oh, and its okay to hate Jon Voight. He's a crappy actor and I really hate looking at his face.
C.H.: Thank you for your time God.
God: No problem, anytime.

Another Brick in the Wall

The purpose of this blog will be nothing more than an update on what I'm doing here in the great nation of Japan. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, I have developed a level of comfort which stunts my creative juices, and therefore hinders the creation of original ideas that would otherwise be shared in this forum. So, alas it seems that I am forced to scrounge the bottom of my mind in order to find a topic that is not only interesting to write, but also one that is worth the five minutes needed to read it. Despite this, there does seem to be hope. I have recently started a new job teaching English, and the encounters I will experience promise to add a healthy dose of the ridiculous that will motivate me to seek an audience for mocking the Japanese at their attempts to learn English. As well as this, my constant desire to find new and interesting music will be suitable insurance for any time that the Japanese fail to make a mistake big enough to generate appropriate jokes. It is with this in mind that I intend to share my latest musical taste as well as details about my new occupation.

To begin, I will start with my new job at Nova Group. Last week, I stayed in Okayama so that I could participate in a week long training session. While there, I was the unfortunate victim of an information onslaught that can only be described as a tedious exercise sprinkled with monotonous detail. Upon leaving Okayama, I was positive that my new position would adequately fill the ranks of my previous jobs, and in fact be quite comfortable sitting next to "cashier" and "cook" on my already illustrious resume. This sense of foreboding continued to ferment over two days as I desperately tried placing a positive light on a situation that seemed to be devoid of any advantageous aspect. I dragged myself into work on that first day expecting to be greeted with the same sense of dread and deep seated hatred that had usually accompanied me to work during my days with Wal-Mart. I was surprised to discover that all of my internal debate was rendered obsolete by a rather pleasant experience that not only cleared my conscious of apprehension, but also reignited the spark of teaching that had been extinguished by four grueling years of university work. This new found outlook has not only made my daily trips to work much less strenuous, but it has also improved my general mood. Despite this, there remains a dark part of my soul which continues to whisper about the inevitable moment that my new occupation will join the ranks of Burger King, Subway, Reese Brothers, Wal-Mart, and that lame job at the house factory. I only hope that my negative conscious will be slow in adding Nova to the obstruction that clouds my optimism and forces me to succumb to a seemingly ever present negative view of society.

On a more positive front, I have recently yielded to an almost inevitable event. It is with a proud heart and a clear conscious that I finally come out of the closet and admit that I am a Pink Floyd fan. For many years, I had purposefully avoided this revelation due to all the losers I had met who listed Pink Floyd as one of their favorite bands. I had long equated listening to Pink Floyd as a bi-product of those who wanted to increase their high while on some type of drug, and felt that my urge towards progressive rock could be placated by the phenomenal bands Rush and Yes. Throughout university, I believed these truths to be self evident, and possessed a copy of "Dark Side of the Moon" for the explicit purpose of watching it with "The Wizard of Oz" (in case it ever came up in conversation, I assure you I was not lame enough to just pop it in on a Friday night just to marvel at something that seems to defy coincidence). In any event, my recent conversion must be attributed to the television show "South Park". After reading about the show on wikipedia, I discovered that the inspiration for Cartman's common phrase, "charight you are" was the Pink Floyd song, "Pigs (Three Different Ones)." Out of curiosity I downloaded the song, and was immediately hooked. I quickly acquired the rest of the album, "Animals", and put it on repeat, hoping to absorb every nuance of the brilliant album. Realizing that I could not deny the urge anymore, I opened the flood gates and bought "The Wall", and "Wish You Were Here" (These are obvious albums I know, but I've only begun to reacquaint myself with the band. I will move on to more obscure albums once I'm sure of exactly what I'm looking to take from their music.) While not having the same impact of "Animals", I loved "The Wall", and have decided that this album easily tops The Who's rock operas "Quadrophenia" and "Tommy."(My opinion may be the result of a growing animosity towards "The Who" centered on a personal dislike of Pete Townshend, but I feel that in any case "The Wall" has better songs than "Quadrophenia" and a darker more subtle tone than "Tommy.")

Pink Floyd's rise to prominence in my musical hierarchy was a long time coming. Every time I discover the connecting themes within "The Wall", the moment I hear the sounds and production elaborated on in "Shine on You Crazy Diamond", and even now as I listen to the brilliant complexities inherent in "Animals", I realize that I was mistaken when making the decision to avoid this band for so long. It is with great joy that Pink Floyd will be the next, but far from the last addition to the ever growing list of bands that continue to mold my personality. Their vast musical catalog will be welcome during the long commutes to my new job. It seems that in their own unique ways; both Nova and Pink Floyd are just another brick in the wall.

All Power to the Soviets!

This week I will be in the city of Okayama, receiving instruction as part of the requirements for employment with Nova. As a result of this fact, I felt I would write a quick blog before I left as a way to maintain my consistency. Despite this, I must admit that the desire to remain constant in regards to my blog is not my primary reason for writing. As many of you are undoubtedly aware (or should be!), this Tuesday is the 89th anniversary of one of the most important events in world history. On November 7, 1917, a small political party chose to take power in a decision that set the course for many notable events that shaped the 20th century. In the next few paragraphs, I will focus on some of the causes of the revolution, as well as attempt to relate the effects of the Bolshevik party's leadership in revolutionary Russia. I also plan to briefly reveal how their beliefs and successes impacted our modern lives, as well as address the possibility that their philosophy may still have a hand in influencing our futures.

The world was at war in 1917, and Russia had chosen to involve itself in the hope of receiving glory and riches. Unfortunately, poor leadership by Tsar Nicholas II coupled with harsh treatment by landowners and business leaders had created squalor and hardship throughout the countryside. The soldiers, the peasants, and members of the working class had long suffered under the yoke of people living decadent lifestyles at their expense, and the war only intensified the feelings of discontent. When the winter of 1916-17 resulted in yet another famine, the people rose up and forced the Tsar to abdicate. The power vacuum opened the door for hundreds of politicians and revolutionaries to return to the country after years of forced exile abroad. A Provisional Government composed of many who supported capitalism was initially created to the pleasure of many foreign governments and businessman. The result was a state lead by aristocrats who continued the war aims of the Tsar and businessman who viewed the revolution as a perfect opportunity for financial gain in the future. The common people saw the contradiction between the goals of the new government and their own dreams, and began to look to the small Bolshevik Party as the only hope for true change.

The Bolshevik Party had two major leaders that set the stage for what transpired in November. Vladimir Lenin had created the Bolshevik party in 1903. The party promoted the idea that capitalism only helped a small part of the population, and that the majority of people were being exploited for the gain of a vast minority. Lenin claimed that only socialism was capable of giving universal equality in the economic, political, and social realms. Lenin's argued that only hard work and fervent belief in a world revolution could create this change. His trust in the necessity of revolution as the only means for transforming Russia had fueled his thinking, and he was justifiably motivated to double his efforts after the Tsar's removal. He was joined in this endeavor by Leon Trotsky. Trotsky was a leading theoretician and revolutionary who joined the Bolsheviks shortly after returning to Russia in 1917. He was a master orator who skillfully utilized his words the fill the people with a sense of hope that had been squashed by the Provisional Government. Many of his theories would be utilized by the party, and his tireless work ethic allowed him to become one of the most prominent and admired leaders in Russia. The two revolutionaries were joined by a cadre of like minded individuals who had spent their lives working toward the goal of allowing the Russian people the opportunity to attain their true potential. The stage was set for the October Revolution (so called because the Russian {Julian} calendars listed the day as October 25th, while European and American {Gregorian} calendars listed it as November 7th).

One of the major platforms espoused by the Bolsheviks was the phrase "All Power to the Soviets". A "soviet" was a congress of common people chosen to represent their brethren. "Soviets" could be found in many major cities and were seen as more reliable than the Provisional Government because they could actually discuss issues directly relevant to the concerns of the majority of the population. The Bolshevik support of these congresses showed their belief in democracy as well as giving them the overwhelming support of many city dwellers (their support in the countryside was less). On November 7th, Bolshevik supporters lead by Trotsky, stormed the Winter Palace (the building where the Provisional Government met) and declared the formation of the first socialist country.

What happened later is a story to long to relate in this forum. The high ideals and hope of the revolution descended into despair due to numerous unforeseen hardships. Foreign intervention (by Great Britain, U.S.A., and France) as well as Civil War resulted in bringing the Soviet Government to the brink of destruction. The death of Lenin from a stroke in 1924 and the rise of Joseph Stalin who subsequently proceeded to kill many of the brilliant leaders of the revolution, (including Trotsky in 1940) caused the Soviet Union to veer away from its original ideals. The corruption and lack of democracy that existed under Stalin's regime allowed for many of those who were threatened by the original ideas promoted by the revolution to conclude that true equality was nothing more than an unattainable delusion. Despite this, the Soviet Union's existence set the stage for the rest of the history of the 20th century. The U.S.S.R (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) was one of the primary players in the allied victory in World War II and the resulting Cold War. The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 ended the corrupted dream of its creators. Many in the west hailed the end of the U.S.S.R. as the triumph for freedom and capitalism. It was this victory that cleared the way for the oppressed people living within the former Soviet Union to finally breathe the air of capitalism's freedom.

The end of the Soviet Union was heralded by the rest of the world as fundamental proof of the ultimate correctness of capitalism, as well verification of the deficiencies inherent in socialism. While this argument is convenient to those who fear the implications of fully functioning socialist state, the question remains. Will socialism or something like it ever exist? To be sure, anyone with a passing knowledge of Marxism knows that the social and economic conditions he described as being ripe for socialism were non-existent in the countries where it was implemented (i.e. Russia, China, Cuba, North Korea, Vietnam, etc.). With this in mind, it is also important in my opinion to disregard some of the antiquated aspects of Marxism, and instead focus on the fundamentals, notably class struggle and dialectical materialism. By using these principles and extrapolating ideas based on the economic and social conditions of today, it is possible for numerous scenarios to emerge. In conclusion, I urge everyone to take my advice and become involved in the events that shape our world. Even if you don't accept all or any tenets of Marxism, the important thing is to use your intellect, and involve yourself in the continued improvement of our species. Marx once said that, "Philosophers have only interpreted the world, the point, however, is to change it." Regardless of the past and future faults of the Bolsheviks, it is important to note one thing. On November 7, 1917, they believed they were about to change the world and usher in a period of truth, justice, and total equality. I only hope that we can someday replicate that example and be successful. We just need to take that first step.

The End is Near: Japan's New Attempt at Global Domination

A few months ago, I visited the city of Osaka to interview for a job within the country of Japan. While walking through the metro system, I noticed a picture of the band KISS, with the slogan "We Need KISS." I found this statement to be a universal truth and decided to write about it in a blog titled "A Day in Osaka." Since my enlightenment, I had grown to appreciate the wise beliefs of the Japanese, with no indication of the sinister undertones which lay dormant underneath the surface of an apparently genuine love of KISS. Unfortunately, my naivety had caused me to overlook the truth behind Japan's call for a KISS inspired society. As a result of my new found knowledge, I will devote this blog to the exposure of Japan's militant plans, as well as warning against the possible negative effects unleashed on the world if the Japanese plan is allowed to commence unhindered.

Two days ago, while visiting Osaka in order to finalize my plans for a job in Japan, I was walking through the very same tunnel that I had seen the original KISS poster. Hoping to gain inspiration from seeing the picture again, I eagerly awaited the moment when it would be in front of me. My shock and horror at seeing the updated photo is hard to express in words. The inspirational phrase that I believed had been meant for the entire human race was replaced with the words, "We Need Kiss Japan!" While this statement could be possibly ignored as nationalist propaganda, it was the picture in the right corner that caused a horrible feeling of foreboding to engulf my soul. The image I am referring to is none other than Godzilla. I recoiled in shock upon realizing what the poster implied. The danger to world security that a successful collaboration between Godzilla and KISS pose is incalculable, especially if it is the service of one nation. I understand that in times like these, with the nuclear threat posed by North Korea, as well as the specter of world terrorism, many may argue that the Japanese are using the KISS-Godzilla alliance as a necessary defense tool. It is to these claims that I charge that those who defend the Japanese on this endeavor, are nothing more than tools of hawkish politicians in Tokyo. In order to hammer home the immediacy of the problem, I wish to illustrate the possible repercussions of the successful implementation of this unholy alliance through predictions extrapolated from the past records of both KISS and Godzilla.

Godzilla is known throughout the world as a destructive menace created by the very same nuclear weapons that the Japanese hope to thwart with the monster. His past annihilation of Tokyo and the mass loss of life resulting from his frequent rampages are more frightening than any alleged weapon of mass destruction in Iraq, Iran, or North Korea. How the Japanese somehow harnessed this power is anyone's guess, but many scholars argue that the control is limited and is in fact partly due to the creature’s love of the rock band KISS. On the other hand, the musical group called by some as the "greatest band in the world", pose a nearly equal threat to the planet. KISS's music has been considered detrimental to young people by the greatest minds of the religious and conservative right, a group famous for being selflessly driven and thoroughly informed. Along with the effect on the youth, KISS also maintains a strong influence on older generations. One of the most jarring facts about the band is that it has historically maintained a standing army. The legendary "KISS army" has strict allegiance to the band and can be found in every trailer park and dank basement throughout the American Midwest. All of this coupled with Gene Simmon's notoriously long tongue, and the damage to our hardwood floors perpetrated by the band's famous platform shoes, make KISS just as dangerous as any nuclear weapon. Needless to say, a possible alliance of Godzilla and KISS would form a two pronged attack. Godzilla would destroy our greatest cities and paralyze our infrastructure, while KISS would corrupt our impressionable youth, unleash their army, and lower the resale value of our homes.

I would like to conclude with a final warning. The danger of KISS and Godzilla should not be ignored. Article 9 of the Japanese constitution is conveniently silent about using the KISS army, or Godzilla to promote war. I urge all of you to write to your congressman, senator, president, or prime minister, and relate to them you apprehension concerning Japanese policy. A world with Godzilla and KISS running unhindered could only result in absolute destruction as well as our children being forced to wear KISS paint. Don't wait until it’s too late. I have given you the tools to undermine this threat; it is now up to all of us to do the right thing. Our future and the future of our children are in our hands. We have a world to win.

Apologies and Guilty Pleasures

A week ago, I wrote a post concerning my observations and opinions of Russia. Upon finishing it, I congratulated myself on a job well done, and retired to my bed to consider the words of wisdom I had so cleverly placed within those few paragraphs. Despite my obviously amazing work, there was one aspect about the blog that bothered me, that kept eating at me throughout the night. The pain began to engulf me and it was at that moment that I knew, that the little lie I had sewn into my words would consume me. Throughout the night, I battled my conscious, and by morning I was a shell of the man who had written the blog only hours before. In my weakness, I decided to seek condolence from the internet through my email. It was then that I noticed a message from my friend Jesse. Hoping that his words would cheer me up, I opened it only to be faced with a shocking condemnation of my lie. His words struck a cord in me, and I knew that I could not live with the falsity I had spread. Therefore, I humbly throw myself on the mercy of my readers when I confess this simple truth. I have liked and still like songs by the band Bon Jovi. As a result of this confession, I wish to air the truth about my acceptance of Bon Jovi as a musical entity, as well reveal other musical guilty pleasures. I believe that only after all of my musical demons have been exorcised, will it be possible for me to find peace among my friends, and the music that I like that doesn't suck.

First, I would like to clear the air about Bon Jovi. I have never purchased a Bon Jovi album. Like all middle class Caucasians, I was issued a copy of "Crossroads", their greatest hits album. I thoroughly enjoy the album, but I won't lie to you when I say that I do get a pleasure out of knowing I didn't give money to Bon Jovi. Of course my possession of a bootleg version of "Crossroads" is not the most difficult part of my confession. It is with a heavy heart that I admit to previously owning a legitimate copy of Bon Jovi's album "Crush", released in 2000. I genuinely enjoyed the single, "Its My Life", and publicly announced a desire to own its corresponding album. My good friend Ric reluctantly purchased a copy for me for my birthday. Despite this nauseating fact, I am proud to report that I traded it back for a better album later. I would also like to say that I did not like any of the other songs on the album. My only excuse is that I got so caught up in hating Bon Jovi due to the overall lameness of the music and their fans, that I denied my own affection for some of their songs. Despite this, I would like to assure everyone that I never owned a copy of the film, "Young Guns", and that I watched "Pay it Forward" due to the content of the message, and not due to Jon's cameo.

The healing that I feel has begun to engulf my soul, can only be complete after I offer everyone a list of all my guilty pleasures. For those of you with weak stomachs or working ears, it may prudent to skip the rest of this paragraph.
--Fleetwood Mac, especially the song "Go Your Own Way"
--Lionel Richie, especially the song "Dancing on the Ceiling" (The most listened to song this year according to my Ipod.)
--Foreigner, especially the song "Cold As Ice"
--Asia, "Heat of the Moment"
--Electric Light Orchestra, especially the song "Telephone Booth"
--Dima Bilan, the song "Never Let You Go" (This is a Russian Pop song, I pray to God nightly that I only like this because I'm nostalgic about Russia, nightly.)
--Lordi, especially the song "Rock and Roll Hallelujah" (I'm not really ashamed about his one, but take one look at the band and you will know why I listed it.)

I believe that is all for the moment. I would like to conclude by apologizing once more for the pain and grief that my confessions undoubtedly have caused you all. I know that your faith in my musical taste must be shaken, but I promise to do all that I can to regain your trust. In the mean time, I plan to wallow in my own shame to the tune of "You Give Love a Bad Name."

Reminiscences From the North

As many of you are aware, I spent three interesting months last spring in the great city of Moscow in the northern paradise known as Russia. Now that I have been removed from the country for the last four months, I'm beginning to reevaluate my time there. As a result of this introspective pursuit, I've been able to better appreciate the little nuances of Russian life as little bits of genius. Now many may argue that my new found enlightenment might be the result of a growing frustration with Japanese customs and culture. I would respond to my critics by reminding them that I've always hated Japanese culture (with the notable exception of violent porn comics, I'm only human), and that therefore they should applaud my new found clairvoyance. With this in mind, I felt it was my duty to share with the world the details of my conversion, by revealing everything I've come to know and love about the Russians and their city of Moscow.

There are many things about Russia that don't have a place here. Everyone has heard about the beautiful and efficient metro, their amazing architecture, and fascinating history. My goal is to describe the better parts of Russia. First, I would like to applaud their ability to compensate for the extremes of their climate by creating 20 foot snow drifts without adequate drainage for when it melts. The joy of walking through a constant mud puddle while the snow was melting was a wonderful experience. I would also like to encourage Russian drivers to continue their policy of driving their cars directly into the puddles in order to splash anyone nearby. I quite enjoyed the 4 foot high wave of mud coming towards me on my way to school. Second, I wanted to encourage the people of Moscow to continue their policy of combating the evil that is the sidewalk. For too long, sidewalks have made themselves available to us so that we don't have to walk in the street. The Russian strategy of parking cars and heavy machinery on every inch of this menace has insured that not only will the sidewalk be unable to maintain its intended task as pedestrian thoroughfare, but it has also made it possible for sections of the hated footpath to crumble into concrete dust.

The third aspect of Moscow I would like to discuss concerns their conception of celebration. Seventy years of totalitarian rule would exhaust anyone, and therefore I would like to first congratulate the Russian people for being in a country that is almost identical to the old Soviet Union, only now, they have been relieved of the burden that was their pension. The birth of democratic Russia has allowed the Russian people to use their new found "freedom" to express joy at the gifts of capitalism through violence and deception. The distrust shown with every financial transaction, the $1 packs of cigarettes, and $5 bottles of vodka show a society which is no way trying to escape from a life that is being improved daily by the introduction of the free market. This coupled with the destruction that resonates throughout a soccer stadium following a victory, and the intrinsic knowledge of how much money constitutes a reasonable bribe is a ringing endorsement of the capitalist system in its raw embryonic phase. I would also like to applaud the Russian leadership. They rewarded the Russian people's fervent optimism and belief in a better tomorrow during the fall of the Soviet Union with the type of excess that a post-revolutionary society could not possibly afford. The 308-foot statue of Peter the Great standing on an undersized boat and the gilded behemoth that is the "Church of Christ the Savior" stand as beacon for the inefficiencies of bureaucracy as well as a reminder that the temporal houses of God are more important than food for his children.

Unfortunately, all of Russia's finer points aren't as trivial as those mentioned above. It is with a heavy heart that I reveal the sad truth about the fate of the Russian people. The fate that befell on us in the late 1980’s has fallen on them, but now in a "maximum" form. Yes, it’s true; apparently people are aware of the existence of Bon Jovi. I report this with utter sorrow, as I have worked all my life to slow the proliferation of his music, but alas, I have failed. The truth has hit Russia hard, but if they can overcome the Mongols, Napoleon, and the Nazi's, I believe that just maybe, they can beat this new terror.

In conclusion, I would like to reiterate my love for Russia. I miss it dearly everyday, and despite its aforementioned Bon Jovi infestation, I feel like there is no place I would rather be. The three months I was there were amazing. I showered daily with a pine tree and watched a man sleep only in black briefs while I ate my breakfast. What more could I want? I personally can not wait until I'm given the opportunity to again stroll through the streets of Moscow avoiding mud waves and witnessing the next gross imposition the Russian leadership imposes on its resilient population.

Hard Gay: Japan's Answer To Stereotyping

Stereotyping is an unfortunate side-effect of a majority of people attempting to understand a minority that appears strange to them. While many cultures have made efforts to combat this phenomenon, the unfortunate truth is that stereotyping exists and proliferates with no foreseeable end. Throughout history, the homosexual community has been the victims of stereotyping. Many people's impressions of how homosexuals interact with other people is almost always much different than the way they truthfully live. The frequently heard stereotype is that gay people are normal participants in the order of life. Many believe that they do not act differently from you or me and that they are in fact, not sexual deviants. Some stereotypes imply that they are capable of the same moral standards that we all live by. Finally, some people believe that they are equal in everyway, and therefore should not be singled out for any reason. It’s hard to believe that people still cling to such antiquated views. Despite this, I am proud to report that nation of Japan has made some rather impressive strides towards defeating this myth. Through the national icon "Hard Gay", the Japanese people are beginning to understand the truth behind homosexuals in their community, one pelvic thrust at a time...

Since first appearing on the scene under the guise of a comedian, Hard Gay has been fighting against the profiling of homosexuals. Wearing his trademark leather vest, hat, and hot pants, Hard Gay has shown us that not all homosexuals choose to assimilate into their native cultures by wearing modest attire. It must be noted that Hard Gay's affinity for dancing (most often to the soothing beats of Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca") and spinning prove that gay men are incapable of living without over-the-top theatrics. Also, Hard Gay's selfless acts of "charity" for people on the street, whether it be preparing delicious dishes for children, or working at a noodle restaurant, demolish the common belief that gay people seldom support openly liberal causes. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Hard Gay has re-introduced the world to the wonders of the "pelvic thrust". While many attribute the popularity of the thrust in America as part the Wayne's World craze of the early 1990's, some attribute Hard Gay with introducing its beautiful rhythm to the Japanese audience. As a result of his efforts, Hard Gay has benefited many homosexuals by utilizing his lightning fast pelvic thrusts to prove once and for all that those belonging to the homosexual community are incapable of going through life without engaging in overtly sexual behavior.

In conclusion, I would like to thank Hard Gay for all of his achievements, as well as call for increased efforts to include homosexuals into our community free of stereotypes. In my opinion, the easiest way to do this is by including some of Hard Gay's actions into the daily lives of all heterosexuals. It is my belief that we should all begin to wear leather hot pants, vests and aviator sun glasses. When talking to a friend, feel free to include a pelvic thrust or two (or three, or four) to emphasize an especially strong point. Do a dance when you’re happy or even if you are sad! Also, and this is the most important, we must act like we have some underground sexual fetish that stops us from effectively assimilating into modern society. Only after we have accomplished these tasks, will it be possible for homosexuals to truly find acceptance in mainstream culture. I just hope that Hard Gay's efforts have not been wasted. Although, the leather chaps in my closest tell me his success is just beginning.

Tales From Home Pt. 2: The "Jesse Moonsault"

Due to a relatively boring week in Japan, I have decided to revisit my home town and reveal yet another story about my life growing up in rural Pennsylvania. Before I start though, I would like to give an update based on my last entry. It appears that my love of Cage is not an isolated phenomenon. The movie channel that I watch in Japan, Movies Plus, has what appears to be a "Cage month" marathon of movies from different points in Cage's career going on throughout October. This might be a frightening but gratifying coincidence, or the Japanese and I finally have something in common. I will keep you all informed about how the Cage marathon transpires.

My time in Pennsylvania gave me a ton of stories to muse over as my life continued away from home. In the first part of this series, I discussed Moulin and his brownie, while only briefly commenting on the other friend Jesse. Like I previously mentioned, Jesse loved to eat peas, and only spoke in broken "Simpsons" quotes. He also styled himself as an "athlete", since he played baseball, and therefore he worked out frequently and refused any clothing above the waist. It was with this implied athletic ability that the stage was set for one of the most embarrassing moments in his life, the "Jesse Moonsault."

While Jesse insists that the story that I'm about to tell happened differently, the version that I will relate has been corroborated by my friend Ric, another witness to the forthcoming event. It all happened on a bright sunny day at Jesse's house. My friend Ric and I had been discussing how we could help solve world hunger. Jesse as if to spite us, had just consumed a massive amount of peas, in the hope of discouraging our noble venture. The three of us decided that a nice way to ease the tension and beat the summer heat would be by taking a dip in Jesse's pool. Jesse thought that this would be "excellent" (in a Mr. Burns voice) and so we all proceeded to prepare ourselves for a refreshing swim. Naturally, Jesse wasn't wearing a shirt and therefore he only had to change shorts. He beat us outside and started doing pull-ups to show us how strong he was. We politely complimented him and then hopped into the pool. The water was chilly, but refreshing and we were adequately relaxed in no time. After a few minutes Ric and I decided to do summersaults and moonsaults (backwards summersaults) into the pool. Jesse, his vanity reaching untold of proportions was doing push-ups over a bottle of sun tan lotion. Through our fun we could hear him reaching exaggerated numbers, "977, 978, 979." We sighed and asked him if there was anything we could do for him. We even offered to pay for the use of the pool. Jesse sneered, and said he would not take money from such weaklings. Instead, he offered an athletic competition. Ric, showing all humility said, "But Jesse, you are very strong and there is no way we could ever beat you." Jesse let out a large laugh, and said, "I saw you doing those backwards summersaults! You pansies could only do one flip; I bet I could do four before ever hitting the water!" We looked at our feet, and I said, "Jesse, It’s really hard to do. You have never done it before. Please we don't want you to get hurt, don't try it!" He only looked at me and put on his athletic gear, which in this case apparently consisted of a cowboy hat and a suede jacket (as can be proven by the authentic photograph above). He turned around and looked us and said, "This is so easy, of course I can do it. Gosh! You are such a bunch of wusses!" At this moment he lunged himself backwards, and far from doing even one flip, he fell backward with a force not seen in the Kennerdell region in years. Ric and I, concerned for Jesse's welfare, jumped in the water to help him. We pulled him back onto the porch, and he regained consciousness. Jesse then stood up, and had a surprisingly triumphant look on his face. "Hahahah, I fooled you guys! Did you see that awesome reverse belly flop I did?" Confused, Ric and I stared at him and meekly said, "Jesse, you said you could do a moonsault, but you didn't make it, we were concerned." Jesse looked at us and with anger in his eyes said, "If you tell anyone what happened this day I will squash you two like bugs. From now on, we will all say that I was really hesitant about doing it, and that you guys laughed at me when I failed." He continued by saying, "also, according to my story I am always nice, I don't eat as many peas as you say, and I let you over here because I enjoy your company and not because my mother makes delicious brownies!" We agreed, and since then, the true story has been overshadowed by Jesse's lie.

I felt that now was the time to express what really happened. Now that I live in Japan, far from Jesse's wrath, I can now tell the truth about what happened. I also do this because I'm concerned for Jesse's fiancée. She is a very nice girl, and if she knew the truth about him, it’s possible she would have never given him a chance. I hope that this story opens up others who are victims of Jesse's threats, and allows a culture of honesty to prevail. Only through time, can events like the "Jesse Moonsault" and other wrongs be remedied. The "Jesse Moonsault", is just the beginning. Former and current Jesse friends, you have a world to win. You have nothing to lose but your shame; Jesse's friends throughout the world unite!