
"There is no accounting for taste, so choose your own. Experiencing deliciousness made me a slave to taste." That is freakin' hardcore.
As many people know, celebrities too high brow for commercials in the states, opt for the commercials in Asia because they're so much better... paying. Brad Pitt and Cameron Diaz slut out Soft Bank phones. Catherine Zeta-Jones whores out shampoo. Something told, me, however that George Clooney of all people would avoid these things. He's so high-class. The last real Hollywood movie star - and the first, last real Hollywood movie star to spread syphilis for Honda.
Starting from Mexico, the swine flu has reached nearly every country in a matter of seconds. No one knows how it's being spread, but some theories of Fouth-Dimensional Travel have been passed around. No one knows how a simple virus can come up with such a complex "Big box inside a small box" Mode of transportation, but some believe that some sort of evil Time Lord consortium is at work.
My wife opened up a backpack that she hasn't used since last she was in the States, which was anywhere between five and eight years ago. Within it were some lost treasures like this ultra-soft Cream Saver and über-hard Winterfresh PlenTPak. I'm pretty sure the Cream Saver's done for, but for some reason, the Winterfresh is calling my name in the night. I swear it!
Here's an oldie, but a goodie. As I arrive at my home station of Nishinomiya-Kitaguchi, as of the last apartment we stayed at, there played a brass band. The kids looked early-high school aged, perhaps Junior High. Anyway, they played a great variety of music, the best being "America" from West Side Story. They were very entertaining, if not very loud.
As many can imagine, cute is nauseatingly serious business here in Japan. It's the country's top commodity both domestically and internationally, so it only makes sense that you would need an entire University to deal with the ins and outs of the economic value of cute. When there has to be a cute character on the cover to distract from the uselessness of something, and when people fall for it unquestioned, it's best to know how to deal with any probable future financial crisis.
Ever since little Nolan has learned to crawl, he has been fascinated with the mysterious door of secret whispers. I mean the bathroom. Everytime one of us goes in, he waits outside the door, hoping that one of us will slip up and he'll gain entry to the world of the magic spinning pool. As you can see below, sometimes it gets a bit creepy.
I shouldn't even be surprised. With the need for all things to be fashionable here in the cities of Japan, why should our electronic accessories be any different? Here, headphones seem to symbolize the type of personality you want to suggest to others you have, just like any pair of socks or silly, over-printed T-shirt.
My apartment of absolute safety and perfection was visit by a copper today. Startled, I grabbed the baby and made for the window. The officer broke down the door with his iron leg, heavy-stepped in with his legs and arms hanging wide before tazering me to the ground. As the officer stood over my hemorrhaging body, and as my son began to play with some random toy, he told us that there was a pervert in the area showing children his Winky McWinkerson. As soon as I stuttered out my information, he left with a bang of the door behind him.


For the most part, as I've exclaimed in the recent, Pop is dirt. There are little, rare exceptions of not-dirt-Pop, but for the most part, Pop is filth. Filthy dirt. Bleh.

