More Hot Beef Found in Fukushima

These cows are safe - and can be killed for your eating pleasure.

The ban on beef from Fukushima-ken (Fukushima Prefecture) will remain in effect for the foreseeable future as three more cows in the area were found on sunday, August 21, 2011 to be contaminated with radioactive Cesium over the government's provisional safety limit of 500 becquerels per kilogram.



This brings the hot cow count to 12 as an additional nine cows from a farm in the village of Namie were found to be tainted. Namie is approximately 10 kilometers due west of the Dai-ichi nuclear facility that spewed radioactive materials into the air following a near-melt down of several reactors following the March 11, 2011 9.0 earthquake and subsequent tsunami that damaged it. 



According to Japan's Health Ministry, one of these nine cows from the Namie farm was actually shipped from a farm this past April from an area outside the 30 kilometer ring outside the nuclear plant. 



A representative of the farm notes that that one cow had not been fed any rice straw—implying that since it wasn't eating grain from the area, it must have absorbed the radiation from the air.



It was also recently learned that 1,256 cows were fed rice straw grown in Fukushima-ken that was contaminated with Cesium. Immediately following the earthquake, tsunami and near-meltdowns, a food shortage for the cattle was felt, and the hay was given to the cows. 



Apparently the rice straw contained 690,000 becquerels of radiation—well over the limit of 500, and it was shipped to 45 of Japan's 47 prefectures. As such, all beef over the allowable limit must be destroyed.



Despite the high levels of cesium in the feed, and the large number of cattle that ate it, very few cows have exceeded the Cesium restriction. 



While these latest 12 cows have not yet been destroyed, a total of 220 cows were destroyed between March 15 and April 19 in Yokohama, with the contaminated meat currently stored in a safe distribution warehouse in Tokyo.



Files compiled by Andrew Joseph

LEGO - Cool For Cats

Nyantomo Happy House.

Okay... about a week ago TV Tokyo presented its results after putting forth a nationwide request for viewers to create toys for cats made from LEGO.

The challenge was just for simple folk like you and I, but rather for the advanced LEGO builder who has a lot of free-time on his or her hands, a plethora of hard-to-find bricks and a plethora of those bricks in the appropriate color scheme... not to mention they also needed to posses an incredible imagination and talent.

I am unsure why challenge was to create toys for cats, but what the heck? The results were awesome, and featured cat cars, cat houses (no, no THAT type), robotic cat toys, and more.

Watch the video HERE.

Wild cats secret hiding place.

And despite the fact that people everywhere are impressed by these LEGO creations, and Japanese cats  got to play with some real neat-o toys, it's obvious that the big winners are TV Tokyo for concocting this bizarre challenge and still providing us with a wow factor along with a television ratings bonanza!

Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife is actually blown away by this concept. I must have around 10,000 LEGO pieces, and I have a cat. Okay... the LEGO is actually my 5-1/2-year-old son's, and the cat came with my wife when we got married 10 years ago this month... but dammit, I play with both.

The shocking thing is, my cat shows absolutely zero interest in LEGO. She can't build anything owing to the absence of thumbs - though to be fair, thumbs are not a necessity to construct LEGO. But really, that darn cat doesn't even try batting around any fallen pieces that hit the wooden floor; she doesn't gnaw on any pieces; she doesn't even try and swat any pieces from my (I mean, my son's) constructs that litter the shelf space in the house (yes, the whole house).

Lego cat car - but does she have a license?

I am reminded of comedian Steve Martin talking about cat toys, and how you can never return them after they get cat spit all over them. Why won't my cat play with LEGO? Is she waiting for me to create something cool like in these photos et al? Until then, apparently I - with my allergies to cats - am her favourite toy.

I hope not. I'm not making any LEGO toys for cats. I'm making a LEGO diorama of old Japan. Or at least that is what I am telling myself I am going to do, which explains my strange purchases from the LEGO store and E-bay.

Somewhere with cat spit on myself,

Andrew Joseph 

PS: regular rife back tomorrow.  

Lego - fishing

Nuclear Plant Not Prepared

Despite a disaster drill held a week before the March 11, 2011 earthquake and tsunami, the Dai-ichi nuclear power plant was ill-prepared, according to a new report.

After the twin disasters hit the area around the plant, it affected the workings of the Dai-ichi facility in Fukushima-ken (Fukushima Prefecture), causing it to spew radiation into the air and nearly suffer a meltdown.

The report, released on June 18 by TEPCO (Tokyo Electric Power Company) noted that the plant was so ill-prepared that plant workers had bring protective gear and an emergency manual from far away buildings and also had to borrow equipment from a contractor already on-site.

The data is based on interviews with plant workers and plant data, showing just how desperate the plant workers were to control the plant. as they worked with unfamiliar equipment while fearing for their life from radiation exposure.

The earthquake and tsunami knocked out the plant's power and thus cooling systems needed to keep the nuclear reactors from melting down. As a result, three nuclear reactors suffered partial meltdowns and emitted several explosions each.

TEPCO has also been severely criticized for not acting quick enough to vent gases or adding sea water as a possible solution to keep the nuclear cores cool. A consideration was that adding sea water would permanently corrode and render the reactor useless - so there were financial concerns.




In a related story, see here for how the Tama Zoo in Tokyo prepared for a possible earthquake that came six days later. HERE

Files compiled by Andrew Joseph

Spiders And Snakes

It's Friday, August 9, 1991 and I'm visiting Thailand with my mother, Lynda from Toronto. I'm just beginning my second year of life in Japan as a teacher of junior high school kids on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme in Japan--but that has nothing to do with this, except that it offers me a chance to travel a fair bit to the eastern part of the globe.

It's drizzling a bit today, but it's still around 36 Celcius. My mom and I do more traveling today, in air-conditioned splendor, as my mom believes, like myself, that a vacation should be relaxing and NOT taxing. I don't see my security blanket, I mean security guard at the entrance to the hotel this morning... maybe I tired her out last night. Or maybe she just has a later shift. Whatever... I'll see her later tonight and see my waitress hook-up after that. I've had more sex in two days than I've had in a month or more, and I feel quite relaxed. I'm pretty sure my mom suspects, but doesn't question me about it. She's probably just glad I've, if you'll pardon the pun, come into my own.

Before arriving in Japan a year ago, I was a 25-1/2 year old virgin with next to zero self-confidence. A year here in Japan has taught me self-confidence, as well as how to cook, clean, do laundry, iron, be a man... etcetera. I might still be an idiot sometimes, but at least I can do more than just whine about it... I can do something about it.

We travel to Wat Pho... the largest temple in Thailand... we were supposed to go yesterday, but we ran out of time. It's fantastic... and really, I need a couple of days to scan in the photos for you. We then traveled an hour north of Bangkok to the famous Water Market--that's a wonderful shot I took up above.

Arriving at the Market, as I step out of the car, a guy drapes a friggin' python snake around my shoulders and a monkey on my now out-stretched arms and then asks if I want a picture. What the heck happens if I say no? To quote Jim Morrison of The Doors: 'The snake... he's cold.'

I don't know about you... but I hate snakes. I hate'em, I hate'em, I hate'em. As much as I hate spiders. I think I prefer animals (not including sealife) that has two to six legs. Anything more or less... ick. Two legs are for things like wallaby's or kangaroos. Six.. ants. Sealife... I don't mind fish or squid or octopi.

I think my mom pays for a photo just so I don't pass out from fright.

The Water Market has sales people in small watercraft selling all sorts of fruits, hats and tourist crap to buy--and to be honest, I have no interest in it. My souvenir is the photo. The water of the river is absolutely filthy. It's a murky brown, and I suppose it's made worse by the rain of the past few days, but our guide, Toki, tells us this brown colour is normal.

We go for a boat ride (motorized) up the river..and I'm constantly hoping none of the water will splash up into my mouth. It's probably the longest I've ever gone without opening my mouth to speak.

I can't believe that people who live in thatch huts up on poles on the river actually bathe in this crappy water... but I guess they are used to it, which is why no one gets sick.

As well, just upstream from where I see some kids having a bath (washing their hair), I see a couple of people using the river as their toilet (crap and pee). Oh well... it's life, isn't it?

Getting off at a small town, we see a few aspects of Thai culture: Kickboxing (my mom run's out of film), a wedding ceremony (still out), Thai dancing, a Thai fashion show--oh my gawd, Magnum, these women are getting more and more gorgeous, a Thai music festival, and learn about Thai history at a small museum. 

Later, we see an elephant show. There's a bull elephant pushing a large log into the water and then goes into the water to retrieve it. When he comes out, his weenis (combo of wee-wee and penis... a word invented by my son, Hudson... he also invented poo-nus... a combo of poo and anus... why can't I invent words like this??!! ) is out--long and dragging on the ground. Geez... with a dick like that, how could an elephant ever forget?

All of the women around me begin snapping photographs while giggling out loud. All of the guys are looking sheepishly at their women going crazy, all the while remembering how they all say that size isn't important. Women lie, apparently.

I then get aboard an elephant (no dick on this one), and ride for a couple minutes. it shakes up my gut pretty good, but it was still a lot of fun. They smell.

On the way back, down the river, I'm so relaxed and happy and thinking about the Thai fashion show and the waitress and the security guard that I drag my hand in the river's water. When my mom points that out to me, I can only hope I haven't picked up something that I'll transfer over to one or both of those women.. or three women... hey... you never know in this country!

When I get out of the boat, that guy with the snake and monkey tries to wrap me up again, but my tour guide steps in the way, allowing me the chance to go and wash my hands. Heck... I wouldn't want to make the snake sick... or would I?

Back in the car, we're stuck in a a traffic jam for an hour where we quite literally do not move an inch. Fortunately, there are some snacks and drinks in the car... plus, I did mention it was air-conditioned. Thanks mom... whatever you paid, it was worth it!

In traffic, I see mile after mile of some of the planet's most gorgeous women saunter by. Long black hair. Long legs. Bright eyes. A warm smile when they see me wave enthusiastically at them.
 
I'm sure my mom and the tour guide are rolling their eyes. Toki says that there are a lot of men who like to dress up as women here in Thailand. I'd heard that, but I haven't seen any evidence of it yet--I think. At least not any first hand or other body part evidence of it.

Giving up on getting back to the hotel by car, we leave our air-conditioned prison and walk back. It's a 30 minute walk through the most disgustingly polluted city I've ever seen, with some of the poorest people I've ever noticed. But... no one is angry. Everyone seems to have a smile on their face for my mom and myself.

At the hotel, we have a spicy fish dinner, and are served by Tookta who is brazen enough to give me a kiss on my lips in front of my mom. Mom is surprised--not by the fact that I got kissed, but by the fact that she did it in front of everyone. Tookta actually comes over a few minutes later to apologize to my mom, saying that she was just overcome by emotion at having seen me. My mother easily accepts her apology, and Tookta flounces away saying she will see me later.

My mom arches an eyebrow as I shrug a shoulder and smile quite smugly.

Back in the hotel, mom is tired and goes to sleep at 9PM, while I watch a bit of Predator II... I'm tired too, but rather than go to sleep like a good son, I make like a teenaged boy and go out to visit Boon-mee the security guard at 10PM (I found out that was when she was getting off work), and then help her get off. I'm a dog, but she seems to like dogs. This time she actually took me back to her place. It was small, well decorated and very clean. I even used the shower when I was ready to leave... my third of the day... so that I would be all nice and fresh for Tookta.

As I was leaving, I got a very good lesson from Boon-mee on women. She told me to say hi to Tookta. I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly turned around, expecting a knife to be pointed at my cowardly yellow dog back. Instead, she had a smile on her face.

She noticed my chagrined look and said: "What? Women do talk, you know! Especially about you."

I stammered out an "oh" and wondered if I could get them both together. Boon-me must have been a mind-reader because she said: "And no, I don't mind sharing you, but only when I get you all to myself for a couple of hours."

She then walked me back to the hotel, grabbed my crotch through my shorts and told me to be as safe with Tookta as she is with her.

"No problem," I smiled. "Are you sure you - "

She laughed, turned and waved as she walked away.

Waitaminute... is this what friends-with-benefits is really like? So, I can still boink my ex-girlfriend Ashley and boink whomever else I want? Dammit. I was hiding that from Ashley. I suppose I can be as open about it as I now am with Tookta and Boon-mee.

I have learned a lot about Thai culture today. I must not forget... like that elephant! Hah! I guess I love Thailand because it's the way I love my women: Open.

Somewhere an old dog can learn a new trick,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by: Jim Stafford. Believe it or not, I saw Jim perform as the opening act of a Joan Rivers (Comedian) concert back in the mid 1980s back in Toronto! IDON'TLIKE.
PS: I should have bought a Thai peasant hat. It's actually not just a Thai peasant hat... it's also seen in China and Japan - I usually saw them worn by the rice farmers, both men and women... who would when the urge hit them, take a bathroom break in their rice field. I wonder if that is what gives Japanese rice its unique flavour?   

Monkey Bars

Ecce Homo - 'Behold the Man' by Antonio Cisen.

Here's a cool - or disturbing video I found interesting.

VIDEO

I like monkeys, but there was a story recently about a woman who had a FACE transplant after a neighbour's chimpanzee ripper her face off. Monkey are not chimps, but they are wild animals.. emphasis on the word wild.

I think what the monkey's are doing is cool, and I would go to this restaurant for food... but I wonder if a place like this would ever pass a health inspection back in the home town of Toronto (where I am writing this)?

Somewhere making like Pontius Pilate,
Andrew Joseph
The blog title is rocked on by Coney Hatch: CHIMPSLIKEUS

PS: The ending of the story: Pilate washed his hands symbolically to show that he wasn't responsible for the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Pilate is in the painting above... some say this was his best side.

Disaster Refuge for Animals

A refuge in Nasu-machi (Nasu Town), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture)has opened up to take in dogs, horses, cattle and other animals whose owners are unable to care for them after the March 11, 2011, earthquake, tsunami and nuclear radiation disasters.

Miori Yaegashi (surename first), 36, founder of Brave Stable, is urging people to contact her before they consider putting down their cattle or pets.

"I want this to be a place where as many animals as possible can live in peace," she explains.

Yaegashi-san—born in Sendai-shi and now living in Chuo Ward, Saitama-ken (Saitama Prefecture)—says she had cared for more than 200 animals over the past 10 years.

She started working to help abandoned dogs and cats 10 years ago after finding a stray cat in Ueno, Tokyo. She began to find new owners for dogs and cats staying at an animal refuge in Sakado, Saitama-ken, where she was in training to become an animal welfare worker while also working as a dental hygienist in Warabi, also in the prefecture.

In May, 2010, the Sakado, Saitama refuge accepted a retired racehorse that was going to be put down, which inspired Yaegashi to open her own refuge with a pasture where retired racehorses could live out their life in contentment.

While looking for property, an acquaintance told her of an unused pasture in Nasu-machi, Tochigi that also had some stables available for rent nearby


Just as she was about to open the doors to the Brave Stable refuge, the 9.0 Magnitude earthquake hit. 

Yaegasho volunteered her time, making six trips into the hard hit areas of Minami-Soma and Tomioka-machi in Fukushima-ken (Fukushim Prefecture) to care for cats and dogs who had lost their owners.

Now with more needy animals than ever thanks to the disaster, Yaegashi was forced to quit her job as a dental hygienist in order to better prepare the Brave Stable for the arrival of the new residents.

There are about five hectares of open pasture and 33 shelter stalls, with horses, cows, goats, sheep, cats and dogs welcome.

Animals can be brought in on a temporary or permanent basis.

Should anyone in Japan be interested or needing their animal accommodated,... contact Brave Stable at (080) 5035-8402.

Radiation Inside The Evacuation Zone

I thought you might like to see this video down near the bottom. Read this stuff first and then check it out. 

On April 3, 2011, the video shows Japanese video journalist Jimbo Tetsuo (surname first) in his car going through the 20 kilometer evacuation zone towards the Fukushima Dai-ichi (Big One) nuclear reactor facility in Fukushima-ken (Fukushima Prefecture), Japan.

As you know, this particular nuclear facility was hard hit after the March 11, 2011 9.0 Magnitude earthquake and the tsunami that knocked out power to the cooling generators surrounding the hot nuclear power rods. There were explosions and a lot of radiation emitted from the facility.

This video shows him in his car with a geiger counter and a device to count the amount of radiation in sievert's. I've re-calculated the data below into millisieverts (mSV), which I am more comfortable with. 

What the heck is a millisievert? 

The millisievert (mSv) is a measure of the absorption of radiation by the human body.

The average person is exposed to 2.4 mSv a year througha variety of sources like x-rays, cosmic rays, radon, granite, tobacco- in fact, if you lived in a high elevation place, you are receivingmore millisieverts of radiation than those at sea-level - because ofthe thinner atmosphere which is a blocker. 

 

There is a rumour that the U.S. Capitol Building made up of a stonecontaining uranium emits more than enough radiation to shut down anuclear power plant. I said rumour now. 

Other examples of exposure include: 

1. Chest x-ray: .04 mSv single dose;
2. Cosmic rays: .24 mSv per year; 
3. Smoking 1.5 packs a day: 13 mSv per year; 
4. Flight crew working the New York-Tokyo route: 9 mSv per year; 
5. Living near Chernobyl when it melted down in 1986: 450 mSv cumulative over several days. 

There is a 50 percent chance of death within a month if you are exposedto a single dose of 5,000 mSv. Obviously, you double your percentage ifyou double the exposure: near-certain death within a month after asingle dose 10,000 mSv of radiation.

I have here the video he shot via YOUTUBE. In the video you'll see some of the destruction and an amazing amount of animal life that seems to be unaffected by the radiation, despite a heavy dosage of 0.112 mSv/hour (112 μSv/hour) that is apparently above the legal limit, but is not expected to pose a health risk for short term exposure.

The 0.112 mSv/hour reached by the reporter would only be dangerous after 446 hoursor 18.6 days, which would then be equal to the maximum yearly exposure for radiation workers established by the U.S. NRC (United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission) of 500 mSv (or 50,000 μSv.)

At least I hope I got the math correct: 0.010 mSv, = 10 µSv. I converted from µSv to mSv, as the video was showing data in μSv/hour.
 
But what about anyone or thing thing still left there... like the cows or dogs in the video... well, radioactivity does decay.By the 200th day, as long as there is no further release of radiation into the air, the dose rate will be quite insignificant.

Somewhere wondering what happened to the bulldog,
Andrew Joseph

Crawling King Snake

So... after doing a small bit of research, I thought I'd introduce you to a Japanese snake called the Habu. It's a venomous pit viper (Trimeresurus flavoviridis) that is found solely in the south western Ryukyu Islands of Japan which includes Okinawa and the Amami Islands.

With no sub-species, this is a deadly reptile that grows to be about 5-feet (1.52 meters - though one specimen was found to be 7.5-feet (2.29 meters). The snake is also one of the few pit vipers that is oviparous--it lays eggs, up to 18 in mid-summer that hatch after a five or six week incubation period. The hatchlings are 25 centimeters (10 inches) long and have the same colouration pattern as an adult.

The Habu is also known as the Okinawa habu, and has a color pattern varying between a light olive green and brown colour overlaid with dark green or brownish patches. These patches sometimes have a yellow edge and or yellow spots that fuse to make it look wavy.

It's colouration seems perfectly apt for hiding in the local trees, though it seems to prefer anything from the palm forest to the cultivated fields to old tombs or caves.

The venom of the snake is very toxic, but there is only a 3% fatality rate... of course, when bitten, fast medical treatment plays a factor in those numbers. Between 6-8% of bite victims do suffer a permanent disability.

On the Amami islands two out of every 1,000 people has suffered from a snakebite from the Habu Viper.  

So, why did I decide to write up about this snake today?

As you may know, the Japanese like to drink alcohol - just like a lot of countries. But, they use the Habu Viper to create a liqour called awamori called Habu sake (though it's not really a sake: sake = rice wine ). Now, when I first heard about that, I thought oh god, they're going to use the venom in the drink, to create a thrill, just like the whole dare-you-to-eat it poison fugu puffer fish delicacy---which to me tasted like fish. Extreme tastebuds, I do not possess.

But no. the whole snake is used in the drink's fermentation process and is sold in glass bottles that--depending on what you consider to be luck--may or may not have the body of the snake in it.  

The awamori alcohol is mixed with honey, herbs and the snake. Why add a snake? Apparently the Habu Viper is known by the locals as having medicinal properties.

Ahhh, the slick marketing of the Japanese! The Habu sake when drunk is good for back pain and arthritis. I'm guessing it may have something to do with the venom in the snake... and it does, as the venom dissolves in the alcohol and releases a bunch of amino acids that someone has said is good for you. 

How do you get the snake to go into the bottle? Once captured, they chill the snake by putting it on ice, which dulls its senses. Then you drain it of blood and sew it up.

Apparently the snake will wake up, die from lack of blood, but will hopefully die in the attack position, which is what habu sake distillers want when they place the snake into an ethanol vat to preserve it.

The snake is left to soak for four weeks, and then moved into a vat mixed with 59 per cent alcohol for 40 days before being placed into a vat of 35 per cent awamori.

There you go. Now YOU have the recipe. Why not give it a try this weekend - just in time for the summer!

So, why did I decide to write up about this snake today?

This time I'll answer my own question. If you read that little blurb up above about me, the writer, you might notice that I like aviation. I was reading up on my favourite plane... the Lockheed SR-71Blackbird . I had a model of it back in the very early 1970s, and was pleased as punch to learn that the new X-Men were flying one back in Giant Sized X-Men #1, which revamped the whole team for Marvel Comics.

Anyhow... another nickname for the SR-71 is the Habu Viper.

Somewhere my lips are numb,
Andrew Joseph 
Today's blog title is by The Doors: HISSSS

The Bad Touch

Sorry for being late - the blog site was not letting ANYONE add new copy for some 20 hours. 

It's Tuesday, July 9, 1991. Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.
I'm at Nozaki Chu Gakko (Nozaki Junior High School) and I can't believe I'm here.
Sure, I can't believe I'm actually living in Japan, but to be back teaching today especially after my OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office told me to take the week off.
I explained that since I'd be going on vacation next week, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with the kids. The fact that this week I was at Nozaki, made it more palpable, as these kids were always the nicest to me. And I did sleep with the girl's Physical Education teacher here, too. 
So... I volunteered to go in to work this week.
I must be even more insane than previously diagnosed.
In the past month or so, I've gone through a break-up with my cute girlfriend Ashley, had a week-long fling with a university student interning at another school who then decided to stalk me for a couple of weeks... and despite her looking like a model—and us have some awesome sex several several times a day (yes, I wrote the word 'several' twice), it was starting to affect me—what with no sleep and all. Besides... I was trying to re-woo Ashley back... slowly but surely.
To top it off, Shoko, a young, shy local foxy lady was also interested me, and I in her. I also slept with and made out with a few other women - in short, I was a pig. A man, to be sure. But a pig, nonetheless.
At school, I have four classes in a row, and am dead tired.
One of the classes has a new girl—a tiny, little thing who lived in Mexico City and San Diego, California for six years. While she is of Japanese descent, I can tell she's going to hate it here—what with all of the different social rules to learn. Poor kid.
My fourth class of the day is a self-introduction session with a first-year (Grade 7) class. I missed them during my previous visit. Because I was unprepared for this, I didn't have photos or other props, so it's just me talking and them listening... until the end when they ask me questions. Stunned. I'm totally shocked and stunned and not less than a little amazed. Some even asked in English! I answer everything! It's fun, they are polite, and I have 30 more new friends!
After lunch, Oyamada-sensei decides we should go for a drive. So we do... to a Tochigi-ken park in Yaita-shi called Terayama Koen. It's beautiful, and drizzling rain, of course. I also don't have a camera to take photos of those beautiful area.
There's an animal sanctuary there, and we see a Black Kite, Raccoon Dog, Ural Owl, Northern Goshawk and some Aleutian Canada Geese. I've never seen any of these particular creatures before.
Despite being excited, I'm also a bit sad as these creatures are in—in my own opinion—shoddy surroundings. There's little fresh air inside. The area they live in is old. It smells. It's cramped. And there are bugs all over the place and on the creatures.
Ah... but then why should the animals live better than the average Japanese person. That's a joke. Sort of.
We then tour a museum full of stuffed creatures that lived in Japan—bears, mountain goats, wild boars—I say lived (past tense, because while the species exist still in Japan, these ones are dead and stuffed. It's all amazing, though.
Aside from some Japanese snow monkeys, crows, frogs, a mouse or two, dogs, cats and fish, I've not seen many animals I wouldn't have seen anywhere else in the world. It's amazing. I'm glad their timely death has brought me some measure of pleasure.
We then travel to a campsite where apparently Oyamada-sensei and some first-year students will camp five to a tent in August for a few days—as part of a class bonding project.
What a wonderfully strange day so far. Can it get any better?
I arrive back at my apartment at 5:30PM, eat a steak—a steak can cost a lot of money here, but what the heck else am I going to do with all of my money? Save it? I'd rather live while I'm over here! It's a Kobe steak marbled with fat!
After I chop up some vegetables for a dinner here tomorrow with my boss, friend and kyudo (Japanese archery) teacher (sensei) Kanemaru-san, I settle down to watch a few videos.
The doorbell rings.
It's Ashley. Fresh from an enkai (party), she's leaning against the door frame in all her drunken glory. She was unexpected, and says she doesn't think she can safely ride her bicycle home (though she did ride to my place), and can she stay a while?
"Sure," I say eagerly. (It appears as though she trusts me).
Getting Ashley drunk was part of my seduction plan... and since she's already saved me considerable sums of money by coming here already hammered, the greasy wheels in my head begin turning.
I ask for an receive a neck massage—for 40 minutes—while we watch some videos I have and she drinks some Coke to try and sober up. While she massages me, I massage her feet—ripping off her socks to play with her toes.
I then give her a massage. Since she's totally into it, I make my move and kiss her neck. She must have remembered that we were no longer bf/gf (boyfriend/girlfriend) and stiffened up. Dammit! I need more booze! Stat!
Back up on the couch, I grab her legs and put them up on my lap. No problem. I massage her feet and toes. No problem. I lick her toes and glance up shyly at her face. She's staring straight ahead at the television. No problem. But after repeated licks and kisses there, I notice she has her eyes rolled back into head.
Sure it could have been the booze and she had passed out, but I like to think she was enjoying it.
She moaned in pleasure.
See? I told you she was enjoying it.
Just to make sure she wasn't moaning in drunken agony, I asked her if she enjoyed what I was doing.
"Yes."
Do you want me to stop?
"You can keep going if you want to."
So I do. She must have enjoyed it because she stuck around until 2AM with me doing more of the same.
As she got up to leave, I ask for a kiss.
She does, but it's just a peck on the lips.
That's bloody strange. After what I was doing to her feet and toes? I get a peck on the lips? Does my breath smell of feet?
When she leaves, I finish cooking the chili for tomorrow nights dinner and then go to bed getting only three hours sleep.
Oh... the damn phone kept ringing while I was making the moves on Ashley. It was Matthew two times, his girlfriend Takako twice, and MariAnn once... bastards. I have to take the phone calls, because as far as Ashey is concerned, I'm not doing anything sexual. Well, not yet, I suppose.
Takako tells me of an upcoming party that I should take Shoko to. Thanks Takako. I'm trying to figure out how to schtupp Ashley and now I have to date Shoko. Not that this is a bad thing! Oh... and today, my mom sent me over several several boxes of condoms (yes, I wrote the word 'several' twice).

Somewhere the groundwork is being laid by,
Andrew Joseph 
Today's blog title is by The Bloodhound Gang: AOOWOOOOO!

Eye Of The Tiger

This one happened a few days ago at the Tama Zoo in Tokyo, Japan.

I have never heard of anything like this before and I hope the spate of publicity would shame them into never doing this again.

It seems that "officials" at the zoo carried out a fake escaped tiger drill.

A trainer at the zoo, one Shuhei Yamaguchi, 26, went  tro work like he does every day... except on this particular morning, he took off all of his clothes and put on a fake tiger suit.

Ohhhh-kayyyy.

He then ran around the zoo trying to scare people, while his co-workers chased after him with nets and guns. I can only hope the guns weren't loaded.

According to reports, Yamaguchi-san (Mister Yamaguchi) was pretending to be a Siberian Tiger that had broken free during an earthquake... at least that was the premise. He ran loose for an hour, while --oh crapo, I just read the rest of the article--over 70 zoo officials raced around with loaded tranquilizer guns, sticks and nets.

Tama Zoo officials felt a practice run like this should come in handy should the big one (earthquake) ever hit the country... because you know, it's more important for 70 zoo employees to chase after a lone tiger that might kill one person rather than help out the survivors of some devastating 6.7 earthquake.. because Tokyo doesn't have many of those stupidly tall skyscrappers. Uh... Tama Zoo officials... that was sarcasm.

Somewhere away from the Tama Zoo,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is sung by: Survivor... hmm, how APPROPRIATE.
PS: As an added bonus, here's a Monty Python skit that is one of my favourites of all time: TIGERSINAFRICA.
PPS: Yes, in the photo above, that's a tiger interrupting me while I try to write this blog. Apparently he escaped from a lunatic asylum.

It's The End Of The World

Welcome to my 300th It's A Wonderful Rife blog. I really didn't think I had that much to say about Japan. Who knew?

Here's a short story (sorta short, sorta not) that I wrote while in Japan. It's about my vacation to the island of Saipan that I actually went on with my friend James (Jimmy Jive) Dalton of Stoney Creek, Ontario, Canada. Wikipedia has some information that hopefully is correct: HERE.

The story is about me and a starfish I actually found - a wonderfully large, royal blue one. Now, some of you may be aware that I collect, or rather, did collect comics up until financial concerns made that impossible. Still, I have about 30,000 of them. In the very first Justice League of America adventure back in Brave & The Bold #28, the super heroes Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, The Flash and I believe teenaged mascot Snapper Carr, went up against a giant Starfish from outer space. That's the backgrounder.

It was originally entitled: The End Of The World, and until now no one besides myself has ever read this - well, maybe my friends Rob and Doug, as I sent them a copy of it back when I was in Japan.



It's my fault really. I mean, I suppose it is. Although I didn't, y'know, like push the button or anything radical like that. All I did was go to Saipan for a vacation. Saipan is a small island north of Guam... look it up yourself, I'm busy.

(Okay, the flashback is beginning, so pretend that everything you see for the next seven seconds is wavering up and down and side to side. For those of you who have been seeing this effect for years... put down the ink blotter and step away from that iguana. It's not yours.)

My trip to Saipan was not very interesting until I wandered along the sharp coral-infested beach near my cabana-cum-hotel. To escape the ravages of the hardened sponge, I stepped into the warm waters of the Pacific, and gashed myself just hideously on the knee, as I had forgotten about the ravenous coral live - whoops! - die under the water's surface. The cut, combined with the salt water, added up to some intense pleasure that I would normally have to pay through the nose for. That is something best experienced over describing.

The time had come for me to finally go all the way and dip my head under the water. I was extremely reluctant, because the last time I had been on a beach, there was no water. One of the drawbacks of living in the desert, I guess. I took a deep breath and submerged. I opened up my eyes and promptly felt my contact lenses slip cleanly from my eyeballs. Let me tell you, it was no easy job looking for something that is see-through, water permeable and invisible when you have the eyesighte of an inkblotter in heat.

That was when I met him. As he tapped me on the shoulder, I turned around and squinted into the indigo image of...

STARO - CONQUEROR OF THE WORLD!

(This is the point ion the story when the music gets really pompous with lots of trumpets telling you to be scared. The clarinets though, whine that the trumpets are always too loud and drown out their pleas for better reeds. as for the violins? Well, who cares? I never could stomach violins. They sound like someone ordering a ham on rye at the deli on 47th Street in New York City whilst choking to death on a piano wire that happens to be wrapped around their neck by a guy named Cecil.)

At first he seemed like an okay guy. he had found my contacts and held out a solid arm to show me. As I reached for them, he playfully pulled them out of my reach. We laughed as he held them out for me yet again. As I lunged for them, he quickly threw them into another suction-like arm and held all five of his rays behind his back. Or was it his front? It was so tough to tell, what with the fact that Staro (I gave him that name, as starfish don't usually have one) still had my contacts.

Cursing his blue hide, I threw myself at his taunting frame. My sudden attack caught him off balance and sent him spiraling into a large mass of brain coral. He wasn't lodged in there or anything, but the continued lapping of the waves made balance an impossibility. I plucked my contacts from his icy grip, inserted them and laughed heartily as I picked his struggling form out of the water.

I brought him back to the cabana with me and let his body lie on my writing table, bereft of water. Needless to say, after a couple of day, the stench of his decomposing body and my roommate's flatulence caused me a momentary lapse of motor control. I spilled my bottle of COORS beer on Staro. Cursing my stupidity and those stinky farts, I tried to drink as much of the fallen suds as possible. But, with unhuman swiftness, Staro slurped it up (not really surprising since it's not a human ).

I watched in amazement as Staro grew and grew and grew. Then he grew some more. With blinding speed, Staro grabbed my friend who was attempting to fire up blue angels and deposited him in his pink and green maw. I'll never forget those crunching and farting sounds - not to mention Staro's raucous belch.

Staro then looked at me and grinned. Quite a sight, let me tell you. He picked me up in his sinewy limbs and held me close to his stinking maw that smelled like... like... uh, like... (Well now pause for a few minutes while the storyteller tries to locate a thesaurus amidst the rubble that was once civilization. You people might want to step out for a bite to eat. Might I suggest the deli over on Madison and Greer? They've got these bagels with this special homemade cream cheese that would absolutely to die for if everybody wasn't already dead. Don't order the iguana tartar. It was a little dicey and stunned the trumpets into a muted muffle.)

... like... like a... starfish mouth? Anyhow, I thought I was going to have a heart attack, but then I discovered it was indigestion brought on by a bad bacon-iguana and violin sandwich. Staro spoke to me in a voice that shook the fillings out of my mouth. Boy, did that hurt! He said he was going to keep me around because he needed someone to arm wrestle with. Oh the horror! The horror!

Star was true to his word. He didn't eat me, and I arm-wrestled him between his munching of cities. Apparently the beer gave him super strength and radioactive breath that smelled like farts that enabled him to defeat the nuclear armies of Earth. Needless to say, he beat me most of the time in arm wrestling, too.

(This is where we end the flashback. everything is wavering up and down and side to side. The lizards are no longer speaking in flicked tongues, but the world is totally aflame. Melancholy clarinets play somber rhythms as Staro has apparently eaten the overbearing trumpet section. Apparently, he hates brass as well as mankind and rhubarb pie - which he blames for his sister's limp.

So there you have it... the story of how our planet came to be destroyed by a 19-foot, five-armed, blue starfish from Saipan. Of course, since he and I are the only living creatures left on Earth, I have absolutely no idea whom I am talking to. Hey you! The ink blotter! Ya got a few minutes? I got a story for you and your violin-playing iguana. It's your mother? Sorry.

Somewhere wondering what I would write if I did drugs,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by R.E.M. and can be heard by pressing THEBUTTON.
PS: I really don't do drugs, and I sure as hell don't write while drinking - although I am having a rum & coke while I type out this... but this is typing, not writing.
PPS: I have no idea what my fascination was with ink blotters, deli's or iguanas. I do play the clarinet and I do dislike string instruments. However, my uncle Harold Joseph (when alive) was the conductor of the Delhi Symphony Orchestra amongst other things: NAMEDROPPER and I do have his violin.

PPPS: My buddy James had this ability to fart on command - not that any body I know actually commanded he fart - but I suppose it was his command. Jimmy Jive was such a fun individual and I hope he is well and somewhat gassy. Just not too gassy.
PPPPS: Staro did have beer spilled on himself by me in the cabana, but the beer did not revive him. It made him tipsy, and let me know he was still alive. I felt stupid about trying to kill such a magnificent creature and returned him to the Pacifc Ocean alive and a raging alcoholic.
PPPPPS: DC Comics killer starfish is spelled Starro. I wanted to avoid a lawsuit should this ever become a fanous work of short semi-autobiographical fiction. 
 

Surfin' Bird

Japan has a lot of symbols. A lot. So much so that it can border on the ridiculous.

Examples of symbols include: samurai, ninja, karate, judo, Mt. Fuji, farmers urinating in their rice field, dragons, rising sun, short Japanese business men in dark blue suits wearing glasses and carrying a brief case, the people not having a sense of humour, Catholic school girl outfits, Japanimation, sake, white cars, hot babes, Godzilla and way too many to mention until I get around doing so in this blog.

As mentioned many times - the Japanese do have a great sense of humour - but like any country in the world, not everyone does, farmers do pee in their fields (and why not?), dragons are a popular theme, Godzilla hates Tokyo, the girls school outfits are what they are, Japanese women are beautiful, but again, like in every country of the world, some are more beautiful than others.

There are many other symbols, but today, let's look at the tsuru - the crane. I'm not talking about construction equipment, rather, I'm talking or writing about the bird. Because, everybody knows that the bird is the word.

The first thing you need to know is that the crane is not Japan's national bird. It's the pheasant. While I have indeed seen a few cranes eating frogs in a rice paddie, I had no idea there was enough forest area to support a pheasant population in Japan. Just kidding. Sort of.

The crane is the iconic symbol of JAL (Japan Air Lines), and is a symbol of longevity - symbolically living for a 1000 years.  According to mythology, the crane descends from the heavens (not THE heaven) to Earth, as such, it is considered a sacred bird.

According to legend, Japan's (actually, the world's) rice growing began after a crane brought a rice plant down to Earth. By that token, rice is akin to food from the god's (kami). 

One of those symbols I neglected to mention (like the crane) is origami - the folding paper skill that the Japanese perform. While I've made out of paper, a sailboat, and if I place it on my head, a hat, and a paper airplane that will always hit a person in the eye, the Japanese make many complex sculptures. I'm going to direct you to a site where you can learn how to fold over 335 different things.  ORIGAMI. 

Despite the plethora of designs out there, the most iconic is the paper crane. In the photo above, the teensy tiny paper crane is actually a paper earring I wore once just before dangling earrings went out of style back in 1993. At least for guys. Men... if you are wearing a dangling earring now in 2010, seriously consider not doing so. I haven't worn an earring in decades. That makes me cool, right? Right? Riii-iiight.

The Japanese have something called sembazura, which is a chain of 1000 folded paper cranes that are given to someone sick. Because of the crane's longevity status  - they can live to be over 20 years of age in the wild - it is hoped the sembazura will hasten the sick person back to health.

Somewhere wishing my folding paper was from a bank,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is yelled by The Trashmen: THEWORD and just because I think it's funny, here's a different video: PETER

Somebody To Love

Because my ego pre-supposes you liked that comic story I wrote while in Japan back in 1992 (you can read it here: The Irrationality Of My Goldfish), here's the other fish tale that appeared in the same comic book: Strange Fun Comics #2, published by Strange Fun Comics. It's called: A Different Scale Of Thought. Art is by the awesome Pa5cal St. Clair, Edited by Steve Guzelis, and written by your old pal Andrew Joseph. Hey! That's me. It's also a much better looking representation of me, as I enjoy writing in the first-person to make people who know me a bit edgy. Let's just say that when I first published the story in an issue of the Tatami Times newsletter for Tochigi-ken JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme people, some people were very concerned for my mental well-being... fearing I was doing drugs. I wasn't and don't. My reality is way more weird than your fantasy.

Somewhere trippy,
Andrew Joseph   
Today's title is by The Jefferson Airplane, with their classic song available for your listening pleasure HERE.

Fishin' Blues

The following comic book story is about me and my goldfish entitled: The Irrationality Of My Goldfish. I previously presented that tale to you HERE, as I wrote it back in March of 1992. However, in the summer of 2001, it was published as a comic book story in Strange Fun Comics #2 - published by Strange Fun Comics. Art is by fellow Torontonian Kyu Shim, Edited by pal Steve Guzelis of Illinois, and written of course by yours truly. I know it's just me, but it's awesome! As an aside, there was another goldfish story in that same issue written by me... and I'll present that to you very soon. It, too was written that month and year while I lived in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. The guy in the story is me - when I had a ponytail.

Somewhere reading a comic book,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is by Taj Mahal and can be heard by clicking on THEHOOK.

Good Day Sunshine

This story takes place during my third year of living in Japan.

You know how familiarity often breeds contempt? Well, I've been here in Japan for close to three years now. Three years of trying to amuse myself and others about my more or less true tales of woe and fun here in Japan. Through it all, I've managed to learn how to cook Japanese noodles--it's easy. You just get someone to boil you some water and add it to the contents of a styrofoam cup!
I've learned that there are Japanese woman with large breasts who will date me (thank-you very much - not that breast size is overly important to me) and that you don't really need to know the language as long as you can gesture effectively.
I've also learned a few more important things. This past January, the principal at one of my schools informed me that I would no longer be afforded the luxury of a car ride to school. He was actively refusing to allow one of the teachers (and my friend) from doing me a favour. I mean... there was no reason for this sudden snub. How can you tell someone they shouldn't pick up a friend to drive them to work?
Ordinarily, I don't mind riding my bicycle to school, but this particular school was an exact 10 kilometres away from my apartment. Ten kilometres through a heavily trafficked area where nothing actually exists but barren rice fields,a couple of 7-11's, car exhaust in abundance, and a cold whipping wind.
So. Nice and late on the Monday morning, I got on my blue convertible (the bicycle), and headed for school. Naturally, it was raining. Oh, and cold, too. Just slightly above freezing, actually.
It's amazing how that one degree Celsius can make the difference between the hellish nightmare of discomfort and the tranquil beauty of snow. I rode with clenched teeth, figuring on ways I could humiliate and then beat-up the principal. Needless to say, after a slow, cold and wet ride, I was not in a good mood upon my arrival at school.
Usually I get there in time ,for the teacher's meeting at 8AM. Not today. I actually left my place at around that time just so I could ensure I would arrive after the first period started.
As I sat down at my desk, dripping wet in my jeans (also the first time I had not worn a suit to work--all part of my silent protest), one of the o-cha ladies (a lady who serves green tea to the other teachers, but also has a second job a teacher of social sciences where students are taught about sexual equality. Nobody really passes that course), she gave me the first of my 18 cups of green tea (o-cha, again).
She then gestured towards the principal's office, and said, "Dozo (Please)." I take it she wanted me to go in and say 'herro'. I said "Ato de (later)."
Boy oh boy, you should have heard the sucking of air through  the teeth!
A few minutes later, the vice-principal made his appearance. I stood up, bowed and said "Herro." Hmmm, I think I'm developing a speech impediment. He, too, gesticulated towards the principal's office and said "Dozo." I told him the Japanese equivalent of 'No thanks. Maybe later.'
There was so much sucking of air by the rest of the teachers watching the situation, that the vice-principal promptly blacked out from the lack of oxygen.
Teachers rushed around and forced green tea down his throat (quickly brewed by the social science teacher), while the physical education teacher broke open a new carton of cigarettes and placed one between their fallen comrade's lips.
Luckily he survived. Survived to enjoy swollen kidneys and an agonizingly raspy cough.
Ten minutes later, after it was apparent I was going to sit and fume until I was dry, the principal came out of his room and welcomed me to his school. I think I managed a weak smile, but said nothing.
My show of disrespect to a 'superior' was certainly unheard of in Ohtawara. After all, I'd been quite the good little gaijin (foreigner) since arriving in Japan.
However, I decided to throw all of that to the wind in an effort to teach the Japanese some real internationalization. If respect is not offered to me, it certainly isn't going to be shown by me. Respect is not a 'given'. It has to be earned. At least that is what I think.
Still pissed off, I went to my four classes and had a surprisingly good time with the students. However, the onset of a cold was beginning to run down my nose, disgusting many a student. Coughing and sneezing quickly arrived, too.
I got 'permission' from the principal to leave school 30 minutes earlier than usual, and rode home angry in the cold rain.
I decided for no apparent reason to take a road I had never taken before, neither passing anyone or being passed - until I spied a little girl in a red rain slicker and matching boots walking along the side of the road whilst holding an umbrella.
She was barking at a dog. Mimicking it, actually. Anyone who knows me, knows that this is something I like to do as well.
I let go a deep Rottweiler-like bark (I did have four over the years). The dog she was barking at quickly shut up in respect. But my barking did cause the girl to quickly whip around to see if she was going to be killed by some sort of dog on a bicycle. She laughed when she saw it was only me. We had never met before.
I slowed down and said "Konichiwa (Hello)". She held her umbrella out to me seeing as I was completely soaked.
I was completely stunned. I stopped my bike, got off, held the umbrella over the two of us and slowly walked with her while pushing my bike.
Her name was Sachiko Watanabe, and she was seven-years-old. We asked each other the standard questions two people meeting for the first time would ask while we continued to bark like mad dogs in the rain. We laughed at our own silliness.
We finally gave our vocal chords a break from the barking while I tried to hold her umbrella, walk the bike and play rock-scissors-paper with her.
After a few minutes of puddle hopping, we came to a side road that led through yet another cross-section of rice fields. Sachiko pointed towards it and looked up at me. I sadly shook my head and pointed in the direction we had been traveling.
I handed back the umbrella, got on my bicycle and said good-bye.
We waved that frantic wave of new friends saying farewell and headed our separate ways. It was still raining, but it didn't seem so cold anymore.

Somewhere feeling better,
Andrew Joseph   
Today's title is by The Beatles -listen to it HERE via a 1967 Beatles cartoon. Why was I not aware these things existed before today?? This is brilliant!
PS: True story, bark for bark. Just when you think everything sucks, something or someone will always come along (eventually) to show you it doesn't suck. You DO have to be willing to listen, though.

Parallel Lines (& Other Non Sequitors)

Anyone who lives in any one place for awhile tends to start over-looking many of the things which would have previously shocked them. Fortunately for me, after a year-plus in Ohtawara (just the other side of Erehwon), that hasn't happened to me yet--or maybe it has and I just haven't noticed it. Oh well, no use in crying over o-cha (green tea) that may or may not already have been spilled.

Some of the things which continue to baffle the heck out of me are the parallel lines   that dissect every main thoroughfare of every city in Japan. I am, of course, talking (writing!) (whatever!) about the crosswalks.

According to Japanese traffic laws, a car must come to a complete stop to allow any person who is standing at a crosswalk, to cross. In my 13 months here, I've not once seen a car stop to allow anyone standing patiently at a crosswalk to cross. In fact, I've actually observed cars I've been in speed-up when they approach these designated crossing areas so they can pretend there wasn't enough time to stop.

Another observation: at a flashing yellow and red light, I've seen the cars that are supposed to stop, continue making the ones that don't have to stop, stop. I've actually tried to explain things to my driving companions, but I usually only get a "Honto?" (really?) or a smile that says, "Y'know, I really didn't know that one, and I'm forgetting you mentioned it now."

How about the dog owner? He like animals - just not in his house. After all, we can't have the little bugger messing up the grass tatami mats that make up our floor. And besides, since Japanese houses are often considered too small for people, where are you going to put the dog? The answer is, usually, outside. Yup. What lucky pup wouldn't pull at his choke chain to be afforded the luxury of his very own patch of stone and dirt with a total absence of that annoying soft and cool grass to lie upon? Ah, what's a dog to do? Well, according to the three (three??!!) miniature  collies that now surround my apartment complex, there is always the barking option. Woof. Talk about Three Dog Night.

Another confusing aspect of Japan is why the most preferred colour for an automobile is white. I asked around a bit and got numerous explanations. "White cars are easier to see in the night." was a popular answer. Sure, but if you have your headlights on, it shouldn't mater what colour the car is as you'll still be able to see it. Another explanation has it that for some reason "Ten years ago, white cars gave us a higher re-sale value." Okay, but why and what about nowadays? A final explanation on why white cars are so popular is: "White is pure, and we all want to be pure." Uh, yeah.

I would suppose even the most casual observer of life in Japan would have noticed the absence of common critters like squirrels. Although it could be argued that there aren't enough trees to support their habitat, there certainly are enough nuts.

Hey... you don't suppose all of the squirrels were killed trying to cross the road?

Somewhere waiting at a crosswalk,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Today's title is not by Three Dog Night, but rather by Blondie. In the liner notes for Blondie's Parallel Lines vinyl album (which, along with Pink Floyd's The Wall, it's the first album I ever bought with my own money) there are lyrics listed for a Parallel Lines song, though no such song exists on the album. The lyrics, written by Debbie Harry, are:

The lines I have written that you read between
The lines on the pages
The lines on the screen
Of lines spoken - I say what I mean.
It's parallel lines that will never meet

Ship in the desert
Ships in the night
Ships that pass in the night

Evangeline stream - Evangeline's dream,
It's parallel lines that will never meet.
But just in case you need a song to listen to, here's one of the first ever rap songs - called Rapture.

Sock It To Me, Baby!

 One of the dangers for anybody the first time they leave home is the demon known as excess. For me, leaving Toronto for the do-inaka ('the sticks') that is Ohtawara, was my first time without my parents. Granted I was 25, and had done University and College (5 + 2 years, respectively), but my excesses then were tempered.
Here in Japan--though rife with supervisors (Hanzakai-san and Kanemaru-san - two awesome gents with the Ohtawara Board of Education aka OBOE), I still had a lot of free time with like minded individuals who were bored.
Because Japan treated me very well with social engagement after social engagement, I went to a lot of parties, and being a some-what popular guy, I always had people around me who wanted to share the good times... in a small town like Ohtawara, those parties (enkai) had a lot of drinking.
I think for me, it wasn't that I liked drinking, but rather it just happened to be something I was good at. I could power them back - beer, hard liquor, sake (rice wine) - whatever - and never ever had a hangover in my life. As a result, I never felt like crap the next day, and as such never had to pray to the gods to get me through the night, or that I would never drink again.
I think it was a challenge.
In Japan, I felt like almost everything was a challenge... to eat their most bizarre foods and not complain, or to not only keep up with their drinking, but to surpass them as well. Does that sound stupid? Even now (20 years later) I believe that to be a truism. By being one of the guys, I earned their respect.
Cue the highlight film. Allow me to take you to a team-teaching get together of all of the AETs... that took place on Wednesday, May 29, 1991 at a renewer's conference n Kobe. I'll spare you the feelings and other irrationalities going through my mind at this time, just know that the conference was for us AETs (Assistant English Teachers) who were staying for an additional year on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.
I'll tell you a funny Kristine story in the next blog, but suffice to say, this one is about drinking.
At the reception, after picking at the meals being walked around to us, someone said we should have a drinking contest. There were four of us, and so help me, I only have memory of three of the participants: One was a big American guy; one was a smallish American dude of Japanese background; one was myself; and the last competitor was Mister Arakawa, who was, I believe, one of the bosses of all of the Tochigi-ken AETs who taught at the high schools (like Ashley did on Ohtawara).
Our drink du jour was sake - fermented rice wine - because when in Rome...
I am pretty sure there was no wagering involved amongst ourselves - but who knows what the observers were doing.
We had about 20 six inch tall slender glasses that were each about 2/3's full with sake.
At the count of three, we each yelled kanpai (Cheers)! and downed our drink, turning the glass over.
We looked at each other and laughed. The first drink or two is always easy, because sake tends to taste a lot like water - until it hits you, and you become drunk very quickly.
We upturned seven more drinks... and that's when I noticed the American dude of Japanese extraction being carried away... apparently he had passed out.
The remaining three of us pointed and laughed. More drinks were ordered, and we continued. At around the 25 mark, we lost the American. I never saw him leave, I never saw him fall -- and I'll be honest, I only think this guy was part of our competition because, by this time I was wasted.
I looked over at Arakawa-san, who held up his glass and saluted me, and then downed
 it. Bugger! He was red as a lobster, and probably looked as tiured as I was, but he didn't seem to be tiring.
At around the 35 drink mark, Arakawa-san and I were huffing for breath, but still standing unaided... by that I mean we stood straight ??!! and didn't lean, although I seem to recall that the walls were standing at a strange obtuse angle.
People... we got to our 45 drink apiece, sucked it down and grinned at each other. Arakawa-san - whose English was better than mine at this point of the evening -- checked his watch and said he had to stop because he had to go to a meeting... it was 9:55PM, so who was I to doubt him. he shook my hand, and stumbled off.
That man is my hero.
Me? I still had a girlfriend (Ashley), and I'm pretty sure that hot little Kristine was around somewhere... so I staggered off to the local disco in the hotel. Would you believe it? Apparently I was so inebriated that they wouldn't let me into the disco.
I'm pretty sure I swore at a lot of people, but I decided to go look around the hotel.
I awoke at around 3:30AM... I opened my eyes, and stared up into the face of a deer.
What the fa - ?!
Apparently, I had broken in to a locked taxidermy exhibit of a forest scene. I have no knowledge of that, which is too bad, because that seems like a skill that could come in handy if my life as a fine upstanding citizen should ever fall onto hard times thanks to me becoming an alcoholic.
I staggered out, found my room - pretty sure I left my contact lenses in my eyes and passed out.
According to my roomie, Matthew Hall, he got up twice during the night to smack me to make me stop snoring.
Matthew, buddy, I'm sorry. Twenty years later, I don't snore anymore.
The next morning, I was up bright and cheerful (no hangover). I saw Arakawa-san downstairs and shouted an ohio gozaimasu (good morning)! to him. He held his head, whispered "itai" (pain) and begged me to be quiet.
I laughed and marched off to listen to the conference's opening address.

Somewhere missing the good old days - I think.
Andrew Joseph
PS - I haven't given up drinking, but I've probably only had 20 drinks in the past 10 years.
PS2 - the photo is of myself and Arakawa-san at another conference a couple of years later sharing a small shot of sake for old time's sake.
PS3 - today's title is brought to you by Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels...
PS4 - Ohtawara isn't really 'the sticks'.