So there's nothing much to talk about recently, hence why there haven't been any posts in a fair while.
I started for Lion at the weekend, but I haven't got the video back yet. We won by some fifty points, and it wasn't a particularly fulfilling game because it felt like any form of possession turned into some kind of points. Having said that, I scored, which meant shaving the beard. Considering the incredible length it had reached, it was an undertaking of significant proportions.
When I was going for a bouncing ball, one of their players pushed our hooker into me resulting in a swift head-butting. This left me with a black eye, which has been dogging me all week. My boss even suggested I might put an eye-patch on - for what purpose I'm not sure. Perhaps to not worry the kids (it wouldn't surprise me if these 12-15 year old children have never seen blood, let alone a black eye; they're so precious).
On the Wednesday night, one of the students went around after school closed and smashed all the third year windows.
The violence inherent in receiving my black eye is obviously too much for these poor things to handle.
Anyway, here is a picture of it:
Unintentionally Facebook like angle. Not deliberate, honest!
It spread out over a few days, becoming less angry as it did so. Nothing compared to Robshaw though, if you haven't seen his then look here:
Just ow. So much ow.
I might have worn my sungalsses if mine were that bad.
Anyway, I've had to start putting my hair up when I play; again. It's getting into my eyes and generally cheesing me off.
It does result in me looking even more like a berk though:
Remember, the beard is gone now.
Frankly, I didn't know it was even possible.
Anyway, today we learned about the face in my fourth year class. That meant drawing some pictures (none of which I now have - damn the transient nature of chalk boards!) and having the kids draw some too.
Here are a selection of my favourites:
Number 2 is Hitler after the sex change.
So the exercise was to teach facial features, like nose, eyes and whatnot; but also to teach adjectives like big/small or short/long.
I tried to make them draw women with moustaches and beards. Progressive, liberal education at its finest!
Some of the kids were great. They all draw better than me already.
I don't know how well it comes out, but this one is my favourite because of no.4
Some of the kids have actual talent when creating things. One kid was unfortunate though - she appeared to be able to draw well, but when instructed to draw moustaches on the characters she'd drawn, she was unable. I fear she's already started copying relentlessly, foregoing the creative aspect of art. 'Tis a shame.
Conical beards are all the rage in this kids household.
Others just scribbled on the page. None of those ones made the cut here, but they're otherwise better than I could do at that age. Better than I can do now, if I'm frank about matters.
And that's it for this edition. We're entering a time of treadmilling, that is to say nothing new is approaching for a while so I fear interesting articles may be few and far between.
Check in from time to time - but if there are no updates then you can always chuckle at these pictures.
So I previously laxed wyrical (what?) about the Fijian open day event, and here is the video proof that I attended.
The audio quality is balls because I didn't balance it properly; and the video quality for the first minute or so doesn't fare much better - I knocked the focus ring just as I was lifting it to record the video, without noticing. I do get around to correcting it after a while.
It's exceedingly interesting watching the parallel evolution of these kinds of things. I say parallel because the first two dances are Samoan rather than Fijian, but the relaxed style of all three certainly suggests a shared heritage. They might not all agree on that, however...
In other news I played for the Lion corporation at the weekend. We were beaten by a team that ground us down, our fitness wasn't enough despite having a points advantage going in at halftime. I got on with thirty minutes to go, with a massive cold that reduced my lung capacity to barely functional. I did okay though, and next week I'll get the DVD of the game so I can put up a few highlights or something. We were in full defence mode when I arrived, and the game didn't change tempo while I was on.
In other news, I took some photographs of Tokyo tower. The now defunct Eiffel Tower ripoff is still quite large, but thanks to the new skytree it's a bit underwhelming. I also love how people in Japan are touting the skytree as the largest tower in the world. I've even heard it described as a symbol of Japanese 'greatness.' True, in the world of architectural lingo, the skytree is the worlds biggest tower, but it's nowhere near the worlds tallest building.
The Burj Khalifa is an absolute monster. Not only does it dwarf the skytree, which can be seen from every-bloody-where in the greater Tokyo area, by the way, it annihilates the previous world records held by big buildings.
All the other competitors were fannying about making the fastest elevator, or the most number of floors, i.e. they were specialising. The Burj came along and took all their prize pieces away, cantering into a magnificent record stealing lead.
The 'great,' skyscraper building period of the late eighties and early nineties was decades ago, so the materials technology and computer modelling necessary for the Burj are obviously far more advanced, leading to the ability for such a gigantic advancement; but I still can't help but be impressed by the scale. It is a fantastic thing - something humanity can be proud of (assuming it doesn't fall down).
I can't personally envisage another tower of this size being constructed within the next thirty years, simply because no one has any money. China, who own the entire world now, aren't in a position to chance their arm with a two billion dollar vanity project for a few reasons. Firstly, the poor farmers who complained about the wasted money of the olympic legacy won't be impressed. Not that anyone cares in china; they've put the average peasant through the ringer without any major revolts or setbacks so short of poking them in the eye with a pointy stick, they're fairly secure in that regard (but it pays to be careful with totalitarian regimes). Another restraint is technical know-how. The chinese aren't particularly knowledgeable in classically america-centric areas of massive design and production, and they're the least likely nation on earth to outsource for any aspect of their construction. The Abu-Dabians were purely interested in flashing the cash in an ill-fated attempt to outrun their reliance on oil. That kind of exploded in their face, but we have a fucking great big building out of it, that a few bankers committed suicide as a result of the melt-down is a positive side-effect we couldn't have foreseen, what with bankers having no souls.
Another reason the chinese won't be able to build a vanity project of this magnitude is probably as much phallic as anything. These towers are massive penises, created to cover up for qualities lacking elsewhere - just look at Donald Trump. The chinese have long since reconciled their paucity of phallic aptitude (let's call it) and will therefore be less inclined to reach for the skies.
If anyone is to do it, it'll be the chinese; but like I said before, I don't think it'll happen for a very long time.
Of that picture highlighting the size of the Tokyo attempt, notice it doesn't have the other major players on the 'tall things kaleidoscope,' instead preferring the iconic, and substantially smaller offering of things like the pyramids and the defunct Petronas towers - it's very important that you only pick things that make you look impressive! That's why so much care is taken at mens urinals...
Anyway, enough penis talk for now, onto a few pictures!
The first thing everyone was doing (it was quite late, but there were still a few camera toters) was looking at the tower. They kept looking at me like I was mental, because I had my back to the tower itself. I thought I was being really clever, but then I saw this picture a million times on the internet. Oh well.
So I went back to taking pictures of the tower like a normal person.
Boring, but the design itself is interesting enough in a recurring, ever-repeating-pattern kind of way.
The park in front is quite nice with no one in it, but I fear this kind of green space in the middle of Tokyo would become crowded the second any light is shone upon it.
On the way back to my digs I crossed over this river, a quite interesting proof that not all of Tokyo is clean.
And that's it, I can't think of any more phallus jokes so we'll leave it at that. Bye!
So I previously wrote in handwriting because an article inspired me to try it out. Upon re-reading it, I found that it was total garbage and instead of flipping it over, I'm going to leave it as an impenetrable wall of hand carved nonsense. Good luck, should you wish to attempt deciphering it.
Anyway, I went to a Fijian independence day party at a country club. It was a proper country club too, with bowls lawns and an artifical pitch. In the middle of Tokyo. Amazing. It was chock full of white people wearing tennis gear, and Japanese people wearing blazers, tuxedos and ties. What the hell?
Anyway, this bizarre slice of life in colonial Japan aside, it was awkward because Fiji was previously a colony of England and I happen to be English. It would have been awkward if it were any other country. That is to say, if it were an american independence day gathering, I would obviously have been shot. If it were Indian, I'd have been burnt in effigy, if not worse. Fijians are super chilled out however, and everyone got along swimmingly. Even the berks in blazers were having fun, which is a rare thing in Japan.
So, onto the pictures.
The first girl is one of the organisers, the second a translator. No one mention the man at the back. Inappropriate.
The guy in third in this mini conga is one of the centres for the gaijin. Mojee weighs a metric tonne, and looks dapper in a skirt.
This rather nervous woman didn't look particularly thrilled at being handed the speech obligations. She was evidently someone quite important, but just how so I'm not sure.
The line began with only a few people. Normally it would have expanded to everyone within seconds - but this is Japan. It took a rather long time for it to reach this number of people, and the eagle-eyes among you will notice that it's mainly foreigners. Ever such a difficult proposition, getting the locals to have fun.
The Samoan delegation also danced, and considering the history between these two islands, I'm surprised there wasn't a fight. Indeed, their territorial disputes make the invasion by England look tame. At least we didn't eat anyone.
All the women wore these dresses. The reason this picture is black and white is because it's slightly out of focus. A good way to mask it is make it black and white and hope people focus on that, rather than your poor skills.
Bati is like the tribal elder or something. He's at all these events, leading the dancers and helpers with great enthusiasm.
They can't sing though. The nicest people in the world, but they can't sing.
This girl was sporting a traditional Fijian wedding dress; actually made of bark. Her mum liked the picture, but she didn't. I got a hell of a dirty look when I took it. Sorry girl.
Another view of the conga, always of interest to those who take part. Probably less interesting for you. Sorry about that.
Again, the leader rallies his troops, just out of shot.
Mojee doing a climb the rope impression.
The traditional dances of these islands are usually rather sedate. Think of Hawai'i and you'll get what I mean. A much different proposition to their past endeavours.
One of the two basque we have in the gaijin. Both are constantly reminding us that the basque are neither french nor spanish, a proud race unto their own. So proud, one of them is training to overtake his homeland with a bazooka. No one told him it was a stage light, we all thought he'd have been sad.
An alternative view of the conga. I really don't know if this photo works. Only the girls face is in focus, which immediately draws my eye, but it's such a small part of the picture that I really don't know how I feel about it. At least she is looking away at something off screen, so you're left wondering what it is that has her attention.
Two of the Samoan dancers, giving a similar dance to the Fijian ladies. It's all very sedate, and shows that women have certain roles thrust upon them, regardless of where they're from. The men do the war dances, the women do the... I don't really know what to call them. Those dances. Yeah, them.
Anyway, that's all for today. Three anyways in the introductions probably means a rather scatter-brained approach to the blog, but whatever.
This audio recording, from the much overrated New Yorker magazine (obviously their website, as attaching a CD to print would be so 90's) shows why people don't take man-babies seriously.
The first few minutes start with the show plugging their other segments, so you can skip that. What I want you to focus on is the giant, self styled man (baby) who has the same musical tastes as a teenage girl. Of course, in this age of early maturation, that means he has the same tastes as a nine year old. Congratulations on admitting that in public, you closet paedophile.
Not that I am one to criticise musical tastes of course - I often tell people to listen to the Mars Volta whom I adore, but no one else does. It's basically music for the sake of music, and they only seem to play crazy, irreverent stuff that only appeals to themselves. I'm exceedingly selfish, so I assume that kind of self-gratification (steady) suits my 'style.'
I also like some country and western, classical, drum and bass (particularly dubstep, if that's even a sub-genre?), jazz and exactly one rap song. Therefore, my tastes are fairly ill-defined, and it would be difficult to pinpoint a single genre I listen to most. I would imagine, quite to the surprise of a few, old world chinese music with flutes and whatnot is probably my most listened to genre. It's fantastic for relaxing, and with my track record with the ungodly realm of sleep, that's quite a useful property.
Anyway, the reason for this particular rant is simple. Korean pop music; contrary to the moniker, is not actually music. It's garbage. It's trash. The paedophile speaking for the New Yorker, openly says the main attraction is the visual aesthetic. That is to say, mostly naked asian girls dancing around a lot. That, therefore, isn't music. It's dance.
Every. Single. Asian. Pop. Song.
All the same. All of them. They are all the same. They are interchangeable, to the point of the very 'humans,' themselves being no more than shells, removable façades on the face of humanoid automatons - incapable of showing emotion, eschewing it in favour of puerile 'sex appeal.' I say puerile because it's marketed for youngsters, kids who don't get any of it. But they want more. Holy shit, they want more. I've never heard of a phenomenon where someone came up with an idea, then replicated it a billion times without changing a single thing about it, and the audience kept buying. Even chocolate bars release new flavours once a decade or so. These guys, they've been doing this for twenty years.
They'll keep doing it for twenty more.
I think it's because asians don't have a boredom threshold. Honestly.
Think about it for a second. Asians have the worst eyesight in the world, not because they lack vitamins (that was originally thought to be the problem) but because they don't get enough direct sunlight (the newest hypothesis for the increase in childhood short-sightedness, the one I most subscribe to). It can affect 90% of individuals in certain places. Why aren't they getting enough sunlight? They're indoors doing their homework. Then they're playing games where the main objective is to do the same thing, for hundreds of hours. Assuming that not everyone who reads this is a nerd, there exists a subset of games created by, and for, the various asian markets that require hundreds, if not thousands of hours be poured into them for no purpose other than to... do whatever. There's never a story, you just kill a million monsters for the sake of killing a million monsters. There's never a plot, never a system to manipulate or break, never a challenge to overcome, never any reward at the end. You do it, to do it. And then you repeat it a hundred thousand times. I can't begin to describe how mind-numbing it all is.
They have often tried to export these games to the west. Every time, the community collectively writes a nasty letter back, often with a sacrificial horse head, intimating that the head is foreshadowing what will befall the game developer, should they try to foist their shit on us again.
This mind-bending ability to turn their brains off is great in certain situations. If I wanted something builtreally quickly, with no regard for safety, to exacting specifications, I would hire chinese to do it. I would hire a westerner to manage them, because we are lazy and want to do the most amount of work for the least effort. In business terms that means more money for less work. Bonus.
It's these traits that ensured the Japanese were catapulted out of world war two with enough momentum to become the then second, and now third largest economy in the world. It's also the reason why, when the alien arachnids come from outer space to take over the earth, I recommend forming vast armies of japanese, korean, indian and chinese soldiers, under the command of american, german and french generals.
Why no english? At this point, on the global stage, we're an overweight OAP, involving ourselves where we shouldn't and acting stupid, embarrassing ourselves like a collective group of imbeciles (I suggest the collective noun be, simply, english. An english of imbeciles). As such, we should just sit out the oncoming galactic war, and barter trade agreements or something.
Aaaaaanyway...
So far we have learned that korean, japanese and chinese pop music sucks balls.
Now we learn that one of the rugby league fraternity has lost one, following on from a final defeat. I can't get over the fact he played on. Jesus, that's impressive. Dumb, but tough. I'm not going to make any puns here, you can all probably come up with a dozen better ones than me, so I won't even bother.
So that's all the interesting news out of the way, now for me. I was terribly sick this week, in the stomach. It's terrible when you feel fine but can't actually eat anything, and after taking a day off work (lest you vomit on everyone you meet) being attacked by your boss doesn't do anything for morale. I got back the next day and was asked (some time after saying hello to my boss) whether I was okay, having missed the prior days work. My boss then, upon hearing my answer that I still felt like shit, decided to change my schedule.
Relieved was I that there was still a shred of humanity in her broken, icicle encrusted soul.
I gratefully took the new sheet of paper, holding my schedule. It was changed from three lessons that day, to five.
Fuck you.
Diseases have prevented me from going to the dentist, but the fact the ol' gnashers don't hurt, means it's in no way serious. No problem!
So I went to training on Saturday with more than a dozen gumshields, sent to me courtesy of dad. What I didn't do, was use any of them. Now you might find this strange, or peculiar, or simply bad form - but in training sessions you are rarely put into a position as to require their use.
I should have put two and two together when I was first kicked, then punched in the testicles, however. The first was painful, the second was excruciating, both were accidental. After these unfortunate events, I should have seen that the rugby gods were not favouring me on that day, and put in one of the veritable collection I now own. After these events, I tripped over and was folded backwards, having a prop sitting on me while precariously balancing upon two other forwards. That was extremely painful, and should have been further indication of what was to come.
We were doing maul practice, against the forwards. As you can imagine, the backs were continually being driven backwards, but during one such maul(ing) I had my head to one side; at which point one of the wingers who is very much in competition with me for the position, ran in head first and nutted me with all his strength. It was obviously a deliberate ploy, one to either concuss or otherwise subdue me, but he caught me in such a way that my jaw snapped shut, thereby chipping a couple of front teeth.
Unfortunately there's very little recourse in a team game with the physicality of rugby, and even if there were nothing would ultimately come of it. Take your lumps and move on, with an eye to making the offender somewhat more lumpy in the future. Watch out, son.
In less sinister news, this article is making my newly bruised plums ache in sympathy, while highlighting the inner hypochondriac as upon reading this, I immediately feared for my own.
At least we're all cursed with two; although I do wonder if he needs to take testosterone to supplement the loss?
In other news, freedom of speech has once again taken a knock. Not that we have any rights to our own opinions anymore, of course.
Yes, the guy is an asshole (no more so than any politician, he copied a shit joke from somewhere, a politician lies to your face, with a smile). I don't, however, think there are any laws that say, 'if you are an asshole, you will go to prison for 16 weeks.' Yet here we are, racists and assholes are now punished by abusing laws that had no intention of being used to form society in the way of Orwell.
Something I've known for a long time came to light today. We're all going to die, you are all horrible, horrible human beings and should be ashamed of yourselves. You are all filthy, disgusting non-parents who, after drinking a glass of wine as has been customary for people for thousands of years, you become a sub-species of worm, not fit to lay eyes upon.
Feel bad yet? The only purpose of this article is to make you feel bad about something that you have no right to be criticised for. I think that your kid turning into scum, or not turning, has far more deeply rooted origins than a glass of wine. Not causally related, people!
This made me laugh, so you can all watch it and laugh along. What a lot of people make the mistake of thinking is that everyone, everywhere, does whatever is suggested in news articles. Obviously this isn't true, and I've yet to see anyone in my local town start swimming around in that stupid gear. Presumably they have access to someone who does it in their spare time, and thought it'd make the chore of learning to swim in a comprehensive education setting less arduous.
It always amazed me how they could make something as fun and interesting as swimming, dull and laborious. I guess that's your tax dollars and public education system at work.
A really, really funny article about Mitt Romney, the berk who is running against the other berk in america. When I read the title I thought it was going to say that the president in running (I love how they always have titles like that, following on in the traditions of English servitude (maiden in waiting, second under butler to the queen etc.)) was actually a human being, and was going to reign in their enormous, untenable (both financially and morally) war spending.
No.
Oh, how wrong I was.
I honestly don't understand the american delusion. To quote the article:
Mr Romney said the US was missing "an historic opportunity to win new friends who share our values in the Middle East" and said there was "a longing for American leadership" in the region.
Okay let's dissect this shall we. The US set the friendship boat on fire by invading Iraq. Twice. And then Afghanistan. There are no friends to be won in the middle-east, you enormous baboon. You installed a puppet regime in Iraq, and even they don't like you. Surely that should alert you to your chances of winning over anyone else. Christ, obliviousness seems to be a pre-requisite for being allowed to live in america. Jesus.
Of the longing for american leadership part, if you need to make fun of this statement, I fear you are too dull. Seriously. Longing? Really. No.
Christ on a bike...
This unfortunate incident shows that large volumes of volatile liquids, when uncompressed, have the capacity to explode with a rare ferocity. Now, at this point I feel it pertinent to highlight the fact that I turn the sound off almost all the BBC videos. After the debacle whereby the BBC overlayed a video of a few men playfighting with cardboard boxes in Haiti, with words intimating that they were somehow actually fighting, I don't trust them. That and all the other lies. SO MANY LIES.
Anyway, it's a pretty hefty explosion.
I showed you guys this video a few years ago (I think) but felt it right to re-visit the issue. That, and it makes me laugh.
What a jerk.
And finally, something that vindicates my stance on posture (hehe). For my entire life, I've been told that I have a bad posture, and that tomorrow my spine will contort and twist in such a manner as to make living impossible. That, within minutes, due to my terrible form, I will at once be infertile, inebriated, broken, pulverised and dead, in no particular order.
I have always believed that if something is wrong, my body will tell me. When I sit upright, it hurts my back. When I sit properly, it doesn't. Guess which one I am going to continue doing? I also point to you, the fact that I have never had random back problems as most people in England have - mine have always stemmed from self-inflicted injury.
And that's everything. My gonads ache, my teeth tingle and my brain hurts. Another day in the life!
First of all, I scribble this warning to anyone who wishes to purchase a Transcend MP330, 2 gig, 4 gig or 8 gig variant. I've had mine for a week, and the battery no longer holds any charge. As such, it's a stinking pile of horse shit, good for nothing more than being a simple pen drive.
To make matters worse, for the fleeting moments that it worked, it sounded terrible.
As is common for this blog, the title refers to something that may (or may not, depending on how I feel) appear at the end, but certainly not the beginning.
So, once again, I've trawled the depths of the internet so that you don't have to. This trawling includes many game related websites, none of which will make it onto this page because you already think I'm nerdy enough, without me shouting out 'LOOK AT THE BUMP MAPPING ON THAT.'
Anywho, the first thing I saw on the BBC website was this article about piracy in Japan. Democracy in the west is predicated on the idea that if you piss enough people off, they won't vote for you. As such, the massively unpopular ideas rarely make it into law. As a prime example there have been many people who have advocated improving the NHS (an example plucked from the air) by changing the very system itself. As luddites, or 'voters,' as they're colloquially known, don't like change, the improvements have been vetoed in favour of spending eye-watering sums with no targets, aims or ideas. Of course there are the few who make substantial sums by virtue of having gone to school with some otherwise exceptionally well to do peer or lord, but the majority are lumped with a slow, inefficient system that benefits senior administrators financially, and no one else. The result is a system that doesn't work. Yay for democratic powers!
The alternative is Japanese democracy which works very much like this: I am the president of Japan. My friend who runs Sony, doesn't like people pirating songs. I will therefore enact a law that breaks the constitutional foundations of our country, because he will invite me to tea parties.
In many cases, the person who summons the idea is brazenly the same friend with whom we wish to dine, as in the case of this piracy law in Japan.
'This revision will reduce the spread of copyright infringement activities on the internet,' (ed - no it won't) said the body's chairman Naoki Kitagawa, who is also chief executive of Sony Entertainment Japan...' (ed - boldness added by the nobhead author)
So, they put someone who had clear ulterior motives, in charge of an organisation whose purpose is to lobby the government on behalf of a billion dollar company, in order to enact laws that are unjust, to further infringe upon the rights of the luddites. Of course, the 'voters,' in Japan are more placid than those in England even, meaning they can do whatever the hell they want; and make no mistakes, they do. Let this be a lesson for everyone in England - when you find yourself on the ass end of an unlawful arrest, with no access to a lawyer, food or water, and you're starved to death by a gestapo-esque secret police who are above the law, the incremental steps they took to get there could have been avoided had you decided to do something about it, instead of just sitting on your great big, gelatinous asses. Take heed. (Of course you won't, that's why 1984 is ever more referred to whenever someone mentions the state of human rights in contemporary society).
The next article is one about the EU. Apparently we've been pissing people off in Europe (hot news just off the press). The germans don't know whether to kick us out, the french have all but made up their mind (as this story, based off blogs of all things, seems to indicate). No one else seems to care. Should England sever all ties, it would of course be disastrous. We wouldn't be able to handle worldwide finances without incurring heavy levies and taxes and this would mean losing 99% of all our income. The other 1% are farmers, and they wouldn't be able to flog their stuff abroad, both because they'd be priced out of the market, and the government wouldn't be able to prop them up. Gutted. Should we abscond, someone else will take our place within four or five minutes, and we'd have permanently lost our source of income.
On the flip-side, screw the frogs and krauts, we don't need them as long as we have america. Oh, they don't have any money anymore. Well, maybe the chinese have forgotten about the opium wars by now? Well, there's always Iran...
In sporting news, Nicky Hayden is one of my new favourite riders. He is ballsy to the point of recklessness, and that merits a special place in my heart.
Take this for example:
Fuck that for a game of soldiers
It's not tiddly winks, but goddamn that's a big one.
He followed the above highside with this ballsy attempt at saving the bike. As the various commentators have noted, he could have bailed a dozen times before he hit the barrier and slid to a painful, if unspectacular stop. No one knows as of yet (as far as I know) why he didn't, but I suspect with his recent track record (pun) he was trying to save the bike to save the team from rebuilding yet another one.
It's worth noting that I've used the word ballsy so many times because it really conveys the kahoonas on this guy - gutsy or brave really don't have the same impact for my money. Again, he deserves respect, and gets it from me.
Everyone seems to think he's okay. Christ on a bike, the more I watch it the more horrific it gets. He damn near does two flips, and that's only at 40mph!
The next clip comes from the hyperbole machine that is the BBC.
A typhoon hit mainland Japan last night, making landfall at Okinawa some hours prior. By all accounts it was quite strong when it reached Okinawa, but when it came to mainland Japan it was weak and pathetic. Having said that (or written), it wasn't a particularly earth-shattering one even over Okinawa. They do like to hype these events though, so we got this self-evidently factually inaccurate report.
It's self-evident because the car is not in the air at any point, nor is it picked up.
It's made all the more hilarious by the slow-mo, as if trying to prove the validity of the headline.
Not funny for the man who owns the car though. Poor guy.
If you want to see something that's actually impressive, watch the first plane land here. That's a ballsy pilot. Ballsy again, see. Irreplaceable in the English language.
Nearly at an end now, this article makes me hate England. Then it makes me hate humanity. It turns out that dog-dirt sounds (not worthy of being called music) are enjoyed by people regardless of social upbringing, this pile of shit having bridged the language divide from korea to England. What a shithouse state of affairs you lot must be in if you listen to this utter tripe. Christ. Go take a long, hard, semi-suicidal look at yourselves, people of England.
If you were one of the morons who partook of this crime against humanity, take out the 'semi,' from the previous sentence.
And finally, onto the bit about the beards. In Japan, having a beard is sinful. The vast, vast majority of men are physically incapable of growing facial hair, so to save their blushes beards are considered unsavoury by the aforementioned vast majority.
This is a problem for me because I'm fantastically lazy. So lazy I can barely keep my eyelids open outside of rugby related activities. This is a high-priority concern because I grow facial hair at a rate that would make Rapunzel blush (presumably her facial hair grew pretty quickly too) and cannot be bothered to cut it every day. So far I've been getting by on weekly shaves that entail me looking like a spotty devil, rather like this, at the start of the week, then in the middle I look ruggedly handsome, and at the end I look like a stowaway aboard a transatlantic cruise powered by dreams. Think Tom Hanks, if he spent another eight or so years on the island.
I'm pretty sure I would get fired if I didn't shave at all, so I devised a cunning plan. If I shave just a little bit, to give the appearance of giving a flying one, they won't fire me. I don't have to spend the requisite hours shaving it all off, taking mere moments instead - and I get to look like a complete douchebag in the process! Bonus!
This came about from talking to someone who only shaved every time he scored a try, which was surprisingly often given his position. I vowed to do the same (only tries for Lion count) but wondered how to enact that plan without turning into cousin It.
Anyway, this first trial resulted in a loss of moustache, next week I might keep the tache attached to the beard, and shave it down a bit, hoping to look like this:
I'm starting to get the old white hairs (hehe). It's indicative of imperfect cell division, don'cha know.
But more than likely ending up like this:
You have to imagine green/black eyes instead.
Why all the beard talk? Simple; I've nothing else better to talk about.
Bye.
#EDIT# I just noticed someone left me a message on the previous post:
hahahahahaha
where do you get the brilliant words? soooooo funny
There are two possible options here: He is a sincere fan, or a bitter, sarcastic dick.
Considering the fact that the kind of person who would sincerely leave a message of this kind probably isn't inclined to read anything I write (non-pop culture, non-fashion, non-celebrity) I have to assume he's option B.
This article from the BBC raises an interesting point.
Having separated areas is a great idea. Obnoxious children with shit parents shouldn't be allowed to travel on planes or trains with civilised society. I say civilised but we all know that you'll never get rid of the asshole with really loud music. I hasten to suggest that the asshole in question was at one stage the child we are trying to protect ourselves from with this suggestion of segregation.
Interestingly, someone allowed a complete moron to comment on the article, espousing such wisdom as:
"I very, very much think that people need to be tolerant. People who have a problem with children in flights needs to get over it."
Well. I'm glad I didn't miss the irony of this statement, it's quite subtle. Re-read it again and tell me if you didn't chuckle to yourself a little. People need to be tolerant. People need to adhere to my world view. I see, mister asshat. Thanks for your input on that one.
That's not mentioning the 'get over it,' line, as if a four year old screaming in your face for eight hours while the parents ignore it, is something willpower can overcome. Or fucking assholes kicking the back of your chair for twelve hours while you're flying across several continents. Yeah, get over it.
What a self-absorbed asshole. Then again, parents expect preferential treatment because they're continuing the human race. Well done. You're also destroying the planet (that you wear hemp socks to protect) to a far greater extent than I ever could. Square that circle you sanctimonious douchebag.
There are plenty of people and children in the world, what makes yours special? Nothing. Get over it and yourself.
It also says in the article that people might resent being treated as second class citizens. I think it's a brilliant idea. Concentrate all the scum in one place, let them all scream their pathetic lungs till explosion, and let the parents try ignoring the caterwauling of a dozen kids. Now you see why we hate you.
As the last point on this subject that has me so irate, it shouldn't be the innocent passenger who should pay extra to have child-free zones, it should be the goddamnfamily that insists on ruining the day of everyone else. They are taking their non-cognisant spawn to fuck knows where, for the purpose of DOING NOTHING WITH IT. IT WILL NOT REMEMBER THE HOLIDAY. IT WILL MAKE MORE STRESS FOR YOU. IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL A HOLIDAY?
So at the end of the third year English book there are a number of (supposedly) inspirational quotes with which to create a sense of aspiration within the classroom.
I'm going to show you how ill thought out they are.
The first is from Walt Disney, the well known anti-semite (to be fair, everyone who was born before 1935 seems to be anti-semitic).
'All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.'
This is plainly a lie. Wipe that stupid moustache off your face, you filthy liar. If you need to be told why this is an untruth, you're either five years old or a king. Or both. If you still don't know, I'll just say that the most basic principle as to why this is nonsensical - money.
The next is from Thomas Edison.
'Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration.'
In the case of Edison, it's actually more like one percent stealing ideas, ninety-nine percent driving the creator into the ground while profiteering to the fullest extent possible. He is a hero to the americans because he's heralded as a great inventor - the truth couldn't be further from reality; interestingly, he should still be a marker by which americans judge themselves for he symbolises america to a tee.
He is a filthy liar, who was rubbish at making things, but great at inventing uses for things that people didn't need. When it was something useful, he stole the idea and ruined the original creator. He was a true american patriot, standing on the shoulders of migrants to reach the stars. See here for one of the many he ripped off.
See if you can guess who this is from:
'We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery.' (sic)
It's actually from Charlie Chaplin. I have no idea why it's in a third year middle school English textbook, nor why he was chosen for these words. I mean, as words go they're not bad, but what is particularly inspiring about him? I don't know much about the man, nor do I know much about what makes him great enough to appear in this very select list - so I leave it up to you to find fault with this one.
'It is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the doing. It is not how much we give, but how much love we put in the giving.'
This one is quite difficult, but when you know the answer you'll see it makes sense. This is much more sensible as the author, Mother Teresa, was known to be quite saintly. She was a rather nice lady, who liked helping other people. Fine. Go do your helping, inspire others to help. Great. Nothing wrong with that.
Next.
'Language is to the mind more than light is to the eye.'
This one wouldn't be guessed in a million years, but works well for both the person uttering, and the utterance. It is Anne Sullivan, the woman who taught Helen Keller (again, someone I'd never heard of before I met americans). It works because Anne was a teacher - which makes sense in a school. It also works because it's talking of language highly, and wouldn't you know it, this is an English language textbook! Full marks.
So all-told, of the five English language quotes they included, I would scrap three because one is pointless, one is from a man who hated jews and made cartoons (giving him roughly the same qualification to help others, as I have to judge him, ha!) and the final is from the perfect american (therefore making him a somewhat dubious role-model for kids outside of america). The Anne Sullivan quote has two unabashed thumbs up from me. Not to mention the validity of the quote (in whose opinion?), the quotee is someone who can be admired.
But, of course, this is Japan. This means that despite these quotes being in an English language textbook, one that the kids are supposedly learning English from, there has to be a Japanese quote to ensure no one thinks Japan is losing face. To comply with the aforementioned learning English and stuff, it's been translated. Now, the above quotes had little in common beyond being vaguely upbeat, do gooder nonsense. This is a prime chance for the educational authorities to pull a fast one, and say something extremely profound, that expounds the Japanese psyche and reaffirms their unshakable knowledge that Japan is the best. So, with this prime circumstance established, here we go:
The old pond;
A frog jumps in, -
The sound of water.
So there's another speech contest coming up. I say another, because I've almost certainly written about them in the past; they're a pain in the ass for myriad reasons, not least because they're pointless.
They don't prove who is the better speaker, merely who has spent more time practicing. They don't teach any valuable skills, besides patience. Then again, the best students are the ones who are inherently more patient, so it doesn't really teach that either. What on earth is the point?
Anyway, as chief whipping boy it is my duty to write the speeches, record myself saying them, then teach the kids the speech I've written. Of course they're meant to be written by the students themselves, but no one is naive enough to believe they actually are. One particularly tough speech was written for the second year student, overseen by my newly (self) appointed boss. The problem isn't the speech material, or length (everything is supposed to follow any number of rules (only some of which I'm privy to, which makes writing them an exercise in frustration as re-drafting becomes second nature)) but the overseer. The lordess (not lady) of propriety is a wicked proponent of ranks and social structure. Disregard the fact that I am both English, and an English literature graduate, if the teacher whose second language is English (in a country where second languages are regarded with roughly the same degree of respect as potatoes (much like England, for that matter)) says tomatoes, you bloody well write tomatoes. Now, while you might be thinking that last sentence perfectly illustrates why I shouldn't be writing anything for kids who are starting out on the voyage of ignorance that is institutionalised English Language education; I hasten to point out that I am capable of writing 'the cat sat on the mat.'
Anyway, this resulted in a speech that is fine, if unremarkable for the most part. I often come to loggerheads regarding almost every conceivable part of my day however, so some of the nascent frustration resulted in a compromise. The compromise in quality of the written word. It is unfortunate that this student should have two such obstinate teachers, but in the cold hard light of post-mortem, I've decided the text actually has more authenticity as one written by a learner of English. That, coupled with the fact that the other listeners (and indeed readers) will also be Japanese, means this isn't a hindrance to the students chances - quite the opposite in fact.
So I bring this up because I had to record three speeches, so the students would have an idea as to the correct pronunciation, cadence etcetera. The first and third speeches were recorded within one or two takes, being simple enough in their own right. The second took seventeen takes because I kept coming a cropper among the thorny Japanicised English that'd crept in.
At this point I'd originally planned to upload the blooper reel and let you laugh for yourselves at my failed attempts, but I can't edit them on work PC's, and I don't want to upload them wholesale because they have students names and whatnot in them. Therefore my parting shot won't be particularly funny, but will give you an indication of the problems I faced when reading this particular speech aloud, and why it took me so many attempts.
I've been on a manic quest to put on a bit of weight while living in Japan. Everyone tells you that it's impossible. Portions are too small, the makeup of their diet is wrong; et cetera. This is absolutely true. I have struggled immensely with this issue, and have only recently begun putting on weight due to an insane amount of eating. Once you've got the weight, it's quite easy to keep it (I don't know whether that's genetics or what) but getting there is a chore.
I eat a small breakfast (I've never been one for breakfast, it's a stupid meal). Then when i have some, I'll have a protein shake for elevenses. As an aside, whoever invented elevenses is a genius, especially if your choice of fattener is chocolate milkshake.
Lunch will be a sandwich, nothing major.
Then around four, I'll have noodles, or another sandwich, or a Japanese curry chicken thing out of the corner shop (whatever I can get my hands on really) then I'll hit the gym or go for a run (adequate time being left between consuming food and workout). When I get back it's two chicken breasts, all the vegetables in the world, and a portion of rice. Veggies will include peppers, green red and or yellow. Spinach type things. Broad beans. Mushrooms. An onion (always). And whatever else is available. Couple that with the myriad fruit juices I drink every day and I think it's pretty healthy.
So for all the effort I've put into gaining weight, I've put on about 2kg's. Two measly kilogrammes. It's certainly lean weight though, I don't think there's much in the way of fat going in me at the moment.
92 kg's isn't bad, and I certainly don't want to be much more than that. Another one or two and I'll be done I think.
Assuming I can afford this terribly expensive eating habit.
Just so you know, this is not for the faint of heart. Those Jehovas witnesses will go to any lengths to stop you enjoying your life - even if you're deaf. Damn you Jehovaaaaaaaaaaa~!
(It's worth noting that Japanese people love to use the tilde, something I've refrained from using outside console commands, but I've started quite enjoying its use as an extension to imply a never ending letter, the example above being an 'a.' Just thought you'd like to know...~)
A prime example of the above tilde usage, would be in transcribing this scene.
Anyway, I sometimes report on the crazy shite that I happen upon from Japan - often it results in something that's quite cool, once you wade past the bizarre. It might take a while, but you can oftentimes figure out the intent and subsequently see the 'cool.'
This game was deemed 'cool,' enough to be copied by the BBC.
Sometimes, the bizarre nature of the image transcends description.
What.
But the proverbial biscuit has been taken, not by the Japanese, but by a rather creative american individual. The act of remixing videos and music is not new. Whereas the above creations are originals, intended for a sadistic audience that has no intention of creating anything - the below is a brilliant mix of two things I could honestly care less about. Religion is stupid. Signing a religion is obviously a necessary part of subjugating everyone (even the deaf need to be downtrodden), but the subject matter, coupled with the song (from a genre I would normally baulk at) make for a perfectly timed dance; one that I would have no hesitation in learning should I be musically inclined. Or just plain terrible at dancing.
This is a terribly fantastic video with strong signs. You have been warned.
#EDIT# The gallery of images from the previous post has been updated with words an' stuff.
So these are holiday pictures from Nikko. Feel free to tell me if you've seen these before because the many, many photographs that were taken during the holiday are all blurring into an amalgamated mess. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to differentiate between the various folders I had created, and as a result I have no idea what I've already posted.
I could look back and check, but I don't want to read the drivel I've previously written. Besides, where's the fun in that?
So this picture is of a fortune tied to a tree. When you go to the various temples you have the option of procuring a fortune. This fortune is absolutely guaranteed to come true, because it tells you nothing - as is generally the way with fortune telling of any kind. To make sure the fortune comes doubly true, you must tie it to something. Normally there are ropes in the temple grounds that serve this purpose, but this tree works just as well.
The weather was pretty hot, as is to be expected when doing anything in Summer around Japan. There were a few clouds though, so I took the opportunity to highlight those instead of the trees. I do love watching a moody sky roll by.
Which do you think is better? This isn't a very good picture, nor is the one below, but as a holiday snap which do you think is better?
I like the stairs more than the posts in the picture above, but the dappled lighting is distracting.
This reminded me of the old illustrations for things like the Canterbury Tales. Except the trees and dragons, they are of a completely unique style.
As with any hot and humid country, the insects here are monstrous. While that doesn't necessarily translate into an easily recognised sense of scaled (this dragonfly could be big or small, there's no way of knowing) it does make taking pictures without macro lenses somewhat easier. Obviously the results here are far from being perfect (the background is really distracting, the subject is too small, the wings and body don't contrast with the background enough) but they're acceptable for a small holiday picture.
Nikko is a famously religious area, with temples and shrines all over the place. I have no idea what any of them mean, or stand for, but they often make for decent enough pictures. I often shoot at 105mm to isolate the subject, but it's good to shoot wider in order to get an idea of the surroundings. Variety is the spice of life, as they say.
This is an example of not having a big enough lens to isolate the insect. This time, the relative
smoothness of the background means that it would have been easily identifiable, had it not been microscopic. If I were to blow this up to a large enough size, I think it might work quite well. As it is, not so much.
Look at the difference a change in millimetres makes. Standing from essentially the same spot, but this time dialled all the way back - the entire picture changes completely. I actually quite like both of these despite the aforementioned blights on the above. This one needs to have a sky peeking from behind the trees, not just an amorphous all-consuming whiteout. The lens flare really doesn't bother me, but it will annoy some enthusiasts.
A birds eye view of the decorations. They were incredibly ornate, but also very difficult to photograph. This is probably one of the few times where a 3D camera would have worked well because each ornament stood out; literally and metaphorically speaking. They vied for the attention by overshadowing their neighbours, or at least attempting as much. It's very difficult to stand out, as it were, when everyone else is doing the same, which is why this bird seemed as good a place as any to take a picture from.
I have a copy of this picture, taken with in-camera HDR activated. What this means in practical terms, is that the highlights (such as the sky) are not washed out (as in this picture) because the camera takes a picture for those, then it changes the settings back, to take a picture for the shadows (the trees/eaves) and snaps another one. Finally, it takes a picture at the correct exposure and combines the three (or five, or seven - however many you tell it to). This picture isn't HDR, but I think it shows the proud dog/monster well. Presumably it's guarding this building from something.
Another dog/monster, this time guarding the entrance to one of the many temples and shrines.
I made mum wait for ages so I could take this picture. There were people everywhere and while a couple holding hands, or a family with a small kid might have been nice, the deserted feeling of having no one in shot makes it a more interesting picture. There is barely any colour, when I changed it to black and white I barely registered the change.
This exceedingly angry man guards yet another entrance to yet another shrine/temple.
He's also angry because he has cauliflower nipples.
This was one of the most ornate drinking fountains we came across. Of course this isn't a fountain used to drink from - instead the locals perform a ritual that's designed to cleans the body (wash hands, etc.). Something my mother baulked at, pointing out the obvious opportunity for disease of any variety to take hold. They either don't care, or don't know. Considering the advanced nature of their education system and economy, I'm going to guess it's the former.
I don't know why I took this picture. It's a screen separating hinged in a doorway, kind of like a second door. I assume this would have been closed at some point, while the main door remained open. Maybe so onlookers could tell if monks were praying? Who knows.
They have no shortage of extremely angry people in Japan. Something I've not witnessed often firsthand, but something that has obviously provided inspiration for countless angry gods to rampage around the place.
And finally, one of my favourite angry guys. It's not particularly spectacular, and as you can see the colours are rather faded, but he stood out in a way that none of the others did. I found that having them stare at you like an angry in-law wasn't conducive to a particularly interesting picture; beyond the first one at least. I tried various angles, and this one turned out to be the best of those I tried - despite it leaving a lot to be desired.
Then again, everything you see here is merely a holiday snap, a picture that bears little resemblance to the artsy fartsy crap that I sometimes churn out, and is merely supposed to show the route on which I blundered while heading through my Summer holidays. If you made it this far expecting some amazing pictures, or incredible art, I'm sorry to disappoint.
