윤

Another casualty of my impending fatherhood.

Okay, maybe not such a big loss. But still.

老婆 explained that JP-idol clone 瑤瑤 chirping this tune was responsible for this epidemic of an expression, but as mixed up as all the languages are to me now, I’m reminded more of 싸-ing (as in 오줌).

Disappointed that the Kobe beef has been replaced by Angus at Sandra Bullock’s, we went for the real thing at Anjin and overheard this version of 그대만 있다면. Could this be the first case of a Japanese remake of a Korean original—other than, of course, the entire menu there? Mmm… カルビクッパ。。。

While watching 老婆 watching 내조의 여왕 (me, I prefer the outlandish yet delicious 혼), I got to thinking about poor Joseph Hurley, who if anyone I’d suspect of getting back at us for the one year he suffered from us at Moses Brown Middle School. Not physically, no—bullying was almost unfashionable at such a casually-run institution—but his cherubic form, which I once overheard him explaining to a small audience was the result of some rare condition stalling puberty, and forthright enough manner, like the time he came in from outside blustering that he wouldn’t be attending P.E. because he couldn’t make it through the foot-high fallen snow to the gym building, subjected him to covert ridicule even he must’ve eventually realized. He’d be almost too easy a twisted supervillain, like Dr. Loveless from the Wild Wild West. Maybe the dreadful Will Smith version ought to have cast Gary Coleman as him instead?

Koreans make sure revenge isn’t too personal. Compare the original Oldboy:

That’s certainly not motivation for the masses.

Was explaining our stop at Fry’s last weekend to 老婆, and her response: that’s because they were made in China. (The Sony’s, which I successfully swapped them out for, don’t fit flush against my head as intended and has always been the case, insert with the speakers facing forward. Yanking on the extra-long cord brings up the same old concern, too.) Alas, the Zippy keyboard which has served me so well these past few years, comes to us from Taiwan; the flexible Tripp-Lite it replaced, which didn’t fare as well—what do you know, let gravity have at the wires inside and they fail—most likely from the mainland. But let’s hope that manufacturing, regardless of where it’s done, sticks to standards commensurate to premium products such as Deck’s.

The deep keystrokes remind me of my old Selectric II, but it’s as if the thick and hence less portable case is making the extra room for your fingers. Thankfully the FN commands to dim and disable the lighting work over USB to the 360 and PS2, because I’d be blinded by the LED’s at their highest setting. Or made to feel guilty by their gratuitous use of energy. There is, however, a niche concept behind it (even if it harks back to case modders from ten years ago), the braided cord, diamond plate bottom, that’s just as hardcore and uncompromising as Apple’s. At twice the price.

Then again, the headliner inside my Japanese truck designed and built in the US has come unglued and is sagging.

Japanese sexual proclivities aren’t anything new, so is it really worth arguing over yet another exposé of them? People get their freak on all over the world, I’m sure, but the author just doesn’t help his case by closing with “[t]he fact is, I know a handful of Japanese guys (successful ones I might add) that simply don’t like real women and claim to prefer their 2D equivalents.” And when he says successful, is he referring to their income, misogyny or consummation of such a trans-dimensional relationship?

IIRC they used clips from this movie during the opening for Channel 56’s Creature Double Feature (which, along with Kung Fu Theater in Houston and Night Flight got me used to staying in on Saturdays), but I don’t think I ever appreciated the rest of it, after being turned off by the overpowered protagonist toying with his opposition.

It is seminal fantasy, the kind that’s alas too wild to be attempted nowadays, and easy to see the influence on later epics—even videogames, which is what that bizarre ninja door trap reminded me of. But if this is “pure”, Chris, and that, too, then what’s left for us?

A few weeks ago I had a dream (most likely induced by 老婆’s request that I stop there for her) I was in Marukai, went up a back way and found a new floor where they kept a library of Japanese books. The curator approached me with my order, a scroll on a tatami plate, which her assistant removed from its wrapping by haphazardly cutting into the trim. She asked me to read it to her, but none of the characters were familiar. I BS’d and tried to run for it, but the stairs down led to the same place, like in the “House that Jack Built” episode of the Avengers I watched not too long ago. When I actually did go to the store the next day, nothing. Not even カレーうどん. Maybe I should’ve tried the second level?

Will’s online girlfriend appeared in another dream, accompanied by a male companion she introduced as Evan while we strolled down a Little Tokyo street. He said he’d check with her, but more than likely the connection is from our office guest with that last name—what exactly does she do, anyway? Or it’s time for me to dig up the Kentucky Fried Movie for an audience with Mr. Kim.

Last night I found myself in a gang like Angel’s (having also revisited the series finale recently) on a mission to defeat our deadliest enemies: Alfre Woodard from Star Trek: First Contact took on a corse-like creature by confusing it with songs, the last of which was the Jackson 5’s “ABC”. Myself and Kutner from House were charged with a pair of killers. We snuck upon them and I throttled one, but the other managed to produce a knife and stab my partner. He survived… unlike in Season Five, which I fast-forwarded through this lazy Sunday afternoon.

I would so watch an episode of 老婆’s Taiwanese travel show if the comely gals had to sit through TGP and Machine Girl like I did this weekend. Probably cure them of their Japanophilia, real quick. I suppose with a history of チャンバラ, the hacking and goring are within cultural norms, if you can call them that, and this is surely just the 特撮 genre taken to the next level. One apparently on a ladder of psychological development where you sympathize with the grotesque Power Ranger villains and don’t recognize any censorship standards.

Didn’t I just see the 轟天? Wasn’t that 水野久美 as the commander? And wtf was this, anyway, Versus with a Godzilla movie in the background? I did chuckle when the “mutants” took on the giant lobster like they were in Contra, but I prefer my aliens not wearing black leather (trenchcoats):

Again, I can’t remember what channel I first saw it on in Providence, or if it was even there, but they did a week of sci-fi at 3 o’clock and on at least two of the other days were almost identical bad Italian movies where the bad guys wore ugly wigs and carried flat light sabers. (Holy crap, was one of them Starcrash with Caroline Munro?) To be fair, though, very little distinguishes this from Message from Space, either. Future グラビア idol 浅野ゆう子 holds up quite nicely, and that rockin’ theme is to die for, but no one thought it was weird when the poor sap in the space station said “galleon”?