Category Archives: Random

Remembrance of Futures Past

With the Royals as World Series champions and the Kansas State Wildcats football team playing like crap, it’s officially the ’80’s again and I’m looking for head bands and skinny ties and pushing up the sleeves of my sport coat.

I also decided to go even more retro and go back and watch two made for television science fiction dramas from 1980 that have stuck with me and influenced my writing for better and for worse. One is still pretty good, the other, well, has its moments.

The first was the PBS production of Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Lathe of Heaven. I mostly remember the grey people, the aliens that looked like turtles and the cone of blue light. I also remember not being able to hear and/or understand what the alien in the cone of blue light was saying. It sounded like “Jor Jor breathymumblyhightechybreathybreathymumblytechyhightechy lathe of heaven”.

I didn’t understand what was said, even though it seemed kind of important, but the drama wasn’t shown much in the 80’s. Then, for various reasons, PBS stopped showing it in 1988 and since then it has remained one of their most requested dramas.

When I watched it again I was underwhelmed by most of the acting. The lead actors, Bruce Davison and Kevin Conway are good but Margaret Avery has been a lot better. I was also surprised at how much I didn’t remember. I remember the aliens being more prominent than they were. I didn’t remember a volcano being involved.

The biggest thing I remembered/didn’t remember involved a novel I wrote. In it, two of the characters are instructed to “Ask about Antwerp” and at one point the protagonist merely says “Antwerp” in place of asking about it. That turns out to have been “acquired” from the Lathe of Heaven.

The other drama was the mini-series adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles. This one has not held up well. The special effects are terrible and the science is dodgy as it has people walking around breathing Mars’ thin atmosphere. Also, based on the old Martian Canal theory, there’s apparently drinkable water all over Mars. Mars, of course, looks absolutely nothing like Malta. (At least that’s what the government wants you think it’s like…) With the exception of Bernie Casey, who steals the show as an astronaut who goes native very quickly, the acting is atrocious. Rock Hudson phones it in and Darren McGavin is the character Darren McGavin always plays.

Although I read the book a million years ago, I’d forgotten about some of the Martian empathy tricks and the three blue lights. I also forgot Bernadette Peters. I do remember writing a piece of fan fiction, maybe for class, maybe for no reason whatsoever, based on the scene where the guy stumbles across the two android women and decides to live with them. (Me being in my horror phase, it ends badly and rather grossly after a malfunction and a kiss.) I therefore take credit for inventing fan fic. (Please email me for the place to send royalty checks.)

The biggest annoyance I had with the Martian Chronicles is the sentiment that the fault is not in ourselves but in our stuff and if we just get rid of our stuff we’ll all be excellent to each other and somehow not the humans who invented the stuff in the first place (a conclusion also reached, rather annoyingly, by the most recent incarnation of Battlestar Galactica).

The other interesting part is that both dramas are now set in the past. The Lathe of Heaven is set in 2002 and in The Martian Chronicles humans land on Mars in 1999, only to be killed by a jealous Martian husband.

Cheering for the Discount if Not the Team

The Japan Series baseball championship ended a few days ago and I’m pretty pleased with the results. Although I don’t follow baseball that closely, I do follow it here in Japan. My favorite team name is the Carp (because Carp) but my favorite team is the one with the best discounts.

Japanese baseball teams are owned by corporations that use the teams as marketing more than as sources of income. (The main source of income actually seems to be fees earned from sending Japanese players to the US Major Leagues.) As a result, the Japan Series was the Fukuoka SoftBank (telecommunications) Hawks versus the Tokyo Yakult (probiotic dairy product) Swallows. The Hawks won their second series in a row and that means several days of product discounts at every company affiliated with SoftBank.

This is pretty good, but it was better when the Hawks were the Fukuoka Daiei (department store chain) Hawks. When they won the Japan series in 1999, the discounts at all their stores were excellent and several items were priced at. She Who Must Be Obeyed cheered for them in 2003 in anticipation of the discounts. (They won and there were discounts.)

The discounts were also good at the fast food chain Lotteria when the Chiba Lotte (food and chemical) Marines won.

There are, of course, teams you hope will never win. For example, the Hanshin (electric railway) Tigers and the Yomiuri (media conglomerate) Giants, are right out. Yes, they are the most popular teams in Japan but what do I get when they win? I get nothing. And nothing don’t buy my love. (Something like that.)

In the future I’m hoping to see a series of discounts, er, a series championship from the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham (food processing) Fighters (because tasty dead animal flesh) or from the Hiroshima Toyo (actually Mazda) Carp (because cool name and car stuff).

Until then, I’ll try to enjoy the SoftBank related discounts. I’m hoping if they three-peat they’ll offer some discounts on their smartphone plans. It’s only a coincidence that I want that and that they are my phone provider. Well, not it’s not.

 

All You Can Eat But Can’t

I’m beginning to suspect that She Who Must Be Obeyed is trying to kill me. Or she’s testing my resolve with this lifestyle change I’ve been attempting.

Our youngest is also trying.

I had part of the day off today, as did our youngest and She Who Must Be Obeyed so we trekked down to LaLaPort Fujimi, a large new mall to do some shopping. It turned out that, thanks to a miscommunication from my part time job I couldn’t shop for much (that’s another post) but we could afford to eat.

Unfortunately She Who Must Be Obeyed had her eyes and stomach set on an organic all-you-can-eat restaurant called SaiNoKuni. This posed a couple problems

1) Our youngest wanted to go to a place called Sweets Paradise which is an all you can eat dessert restaurant. She was not happy when she discovered we were going organic and savory.

2) I’m skeptical of the “organic” label in general and in Japan I’m pretty sure it means either “expensive food” or “grandpa didn’t piss on it” (which is why there’s a local field we’ll never buy carrots from).

3) It’s all you can eat.

Normally a buffet restaurant wouldn’t phase me and the owners would be more afraid of me than I was of them, but this time was different. They tend to be pasta and bread heavy and that meant I needed a better plan than “more more more”.

I skipped all the pasta and all of the bread and tracked down as much meat as I could and then went back for vegetables. Luckily they had an excellent salad bar with three different kinds of spinach and a special on Iberico pork.

I didn’t resist the vanilla ice cream and added a couple slivers of brownie (barely enough to fill two tablespoons) and an equally small sliver of cheesecake.

At the end of the hour, I realized I’d eaten more at one sitting than I’d eaten since we’d been to the in-laws in August. I felt it for a while and then haven’t felt hungry since.

 

Back to the Past Here in the Future

For the past few weeks, just looking at college football scores and seeing Kansas State blown out by Oklahoma and then losing to Texas, I’m pretty sure I’ve time-slipped back to the 80’s.

During the time I was at Kansas State, both as an undergraduate and a graduate student, Kansas State had (if I did the math correctly) 16 wins, 60 losses, and 1 tie (more on that in a minute). The only winning season was my final year when Bill Snyder finally pulled off a 7-4 record in his third season.

Along the way, during a 2-9 season, there was a “riot” in Aggieville after Kansas State defeated the Hated Kansas University Jayhawks. (The week before the Cats had been blown out by Oklahoma 56-10.)

Somehow, during the 1987 season (the year after the “riot”), my fraternity got the responsibility of providing ushers at the football stadium during games. This meant a great many of us were “volunteered” for service. That’s how I ended up wearing a sun visor around my neck whilst I stood around a cold stadium checking tickets. (Note: I wore the sun visor around my neck because that seemed less stupid than the hat-head I’d get to wear all day if actually wore the sun visor during the game.)

I did get to see the games for free, but that wasn’t that great of a perk that season as Kansas State lost to such powerhouses as Austin Peay State and Army. I ended up in the stadium for the game versus the Hated Kansas University Jayhawks and I remember the anticipation being high. The Cats had defeated them the year before and had just suffered a three week run that included losses to Oklahoma, Nebraska and Oklahoma State for a combined score of 171-20.)

The Hated Kansas University Jayhawks were 1-7 and the Cats were 0-8. Aggieville had been converted into a series of barricades and bunkers and extra police had been called in from around the state. Aggieville became known as, if I remember correctly “Aggietraz”. The game itself had been dubbed “The Toilet Bowl” because both teams were shitty.

The joke, of course, was on us as the game ended in a 17-17 draw after Kansas State blocked a field goal in the closing seconds. There was no riot after the match. In fact, I don’t think anyone went to Aggietraz at all.

The only people who ended up being happy were the police because they got lots of overtime and no riot.

 

Music With Lots of Gratuitous Wrestling

It’s been a musical weekend thus far. Our oldest performed yesterday, our youngest performed today. I had four jobs, 1) stay out of fights; 2) take video of the proceedings, 3) escape as soon as I could, 4) avoid crushing children even if they deserved it.

The event is the annual music festival and open house at our youngest’s elementary school. Parents arrive in the morning, many of them apparently jumping the fence to get the best seats. They then compete for the best video angles. The most dangerous are the parents and grandparents of the first year students. This is their first event and it’s still exciting to them and they have a level of ruthlessness that is truly astonishing. If you get a good camera angle, you will be jostled, deliberately bumped and someone will set up in front of you.

Luckily, I’m tall, so I can usually get a good camera angle despite the best efforts of the others. Because of that, I tend to find a chair until it’s time to go to work.

Complicating matters, is that, because it’s new to the first years, they bring more people than necessary: grandparents, aunts and uncles, random small children off the street. They also feel the need to stay for the entire proceeding. They also chatter a lot and school staff members wave giant placards that say “Shut up, please.” during the inevitable speeches. (Unfortunately they point them at the crowd not the speech makers.)

In my case, the novelty of all this wore off a long time ago. “That’s my daughter up there! That one right there!” becomes, over the years, “Do we really have to do this shit again?” I’m not saying this is a good thing, but it happens. I do enjoy seeing our daughters play, especially when they rock the piano as our youngest did today, but I also beat a quick exit whilst She Who Must Be Obeyed attends the open class. (Note, she was on the PTA so it’s more of an obligation for her than it is for me. Also, the school encourages only one parent to attend the class.)

The other complication today was other people’s children. They were standing on chairs, staring at me and saying “LOOK FOREIGN GUY!” I usually respond to this by looking around and going “Where? Where is the foreign guy?” This I can forgive, but the two kids wrestling in the middle of the floor during our youngest’s performance had me trying to figure out maximum sentences for zapping children with a stun gun. Luckily for them, I was working. However, I learned later that She Who Must Be Obeyed was looking for a stun gun.

Next year, we’ll do this again. I’ll have the same jobs and part of me will be proud of our girls. The other part will get out as soon as it can.

Cheeseburger Hold the Temptation

Since I’ve been doing the diet/lifestyle change, I’ve managed to avoid most major temptations. Well, there was that pizza that time, and there was that time at the in-laws where beer became as much a staple as rice, but other than that I’ve been a good boy.

Then, today, She Who Must Be Obeyed wanted to go to a burger place for lunch.

We were in Kawagoe because our oldest had a chorus concert that featured only her school. They had it at a new Kawagoe city office branch that also features a large concert hall because “other people’s money” and “we have the firearms and you don’t”. Having built it, though, the city is encouraging local schools to find excuses to use it rather than hold the concert down the street at the school.

I skipped the morning show (long story) and met She Who Must Be Obeyed, who had gone early, for lunch. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to eat around the concert hall except Baskin-Robbins and burgers. (In my past life, that was pretty much a between meal snack.) We opted to eat at MOS Burger, the second largest “fast” food chain in Japan (after McDonalds).

This led to a number of dilemmas: 1) MOS Burger has good fries and always includes a couple onion rings with their fries. 2) apparently, according to the menu, large numbers of their burgers are actually made from soy beans. 3) They have good fries and onion rings. 4) the burgers come with carbs attached.

I ordered a burger with real beef and a chili dog with real, well it was a chili dog so who cares what was real. She Who Must Be Obeyed was so surprised I didn’t order fries that she kept asking me if I wanted them.

I enjoyed the burgers (haven’t had them for 75 days) but felt the craving for the fries. This lifestyle change stuff can be hard.

Note: Our oldest’s class finished second in the contest. (They were robbed. oya baka.)

The Festival Approacheth With Big Hot Dogs

Last year, around this time, a student tried to entice me into his room by telling me about his hot dog.

This weekend is the annual school festival at the school where I work. The students gussy up the school, tune their musical instruments, practice their performance skills and warm up their singing voices and then invite hordes of people to visit the school. This is also the only time of year when the mostly non-religious religious school finds religion as all the boys start praying for sunny weather and that the hordes of people be mostly high school girls.

Oh Lord above, wise and fair and mighty, we beseech thee in thy mercy to send thy great and holy light that is the sun and the teeming masses of girls in mini-skirts that we may beseech of them their Line IDs and phone numbers and that we may know them but, of course, not in that way. Totally not. No really, not in that way. Really. Amen.

Something like that.

Rainy days bring small crowds and great depression and great expense. Sunny days are much more interesting, especially because the various clubs can show off their sporting and musical skills outside.

The great expense comes because each classroom prepares and sells some kind of snack and drink. If they don’t sell what they prepared, they lose money. The most outgoing guys from each class go out in the hall and act as barkers to draw crowds to their rooms. They even, for a few minutes, pretend to like the teachers.

Last year one former student saw me and said “Mr. Library, (sic) I have hot dog.” and I was like well, I hope so since it is a boys’ school.

He persisted: “I have big hot dog” and I was like “Don’t tell me, tell the girls in mini-skirts, and, well, no, don’t tell them that.” I tried to run away, but some other teachers were interested in the big hot dog which turned out to be a trap because it was sweet cream cheese in a hot dog bun. (The students are not allowed to serve things like beef or pork that might actually go bad and make visitors sick.)

The teachers were disappointed and I was like “well, that’s what you get for trusting a guy who talks about his big hot dog.” You need to make him show you the merchandise first.  So to speak.

 

 

 

 

For The Times When You Can’t Be Bothered

A while back two people, one friend and one YouTuber, tricked me into playing a game regularly. Lately I’ve found myself watching the game more than playing it. I call this studying.

As much as I enjoy the game, every now and then I’m not in the mood to play it or I’ve been playing it and I’m no longer in the mood to do so. I’ve got a bad internet connection to the USA so playing the game involves watching my tank hop around and die rather than moving around smoothly than dying. (That says a lot about my play style, now that I think about it.) Or, on the Asia server, I’ve got a better connection but the play style there is maddening enough to make me prefer doing work.

However, instead of doing work anything even remotely productive, I inevitably track down a couple people livestreaming the game via Twitch.tv. and watch them play instead. That’s right, sometimes I’m so lazy I can’t even be bothered to play the game myself. I make someone else play it for me.

The streamers playing World of Tanks fall into several categories: 1) the Ragers, who’ve been known to break their keyboards during play; 2) the Teachers, who carefully explain what they’re doing and why they are doing it in an attempt to make other players better; 3) the Nice Guys, who don’t teach but seem to be having fun; 4) the Hot Chicks who, well, you really don’t care how well they play, and 5) the Scary Good Snobbish Assholes. They are so good they’ve lost the ability to empathize with people just learning to play the game at higher levels. This group is also known as the Whiners.

I have learned a lot about the game and the best streamers are more fun to watch than most television programs in the world. Every now and then life intervenes for some of the streamers–one man’s fiance broke up with him while he was streaming–and they get real to the point that you can’t help but watch even as you want to look away.

Very raw, but it beats playing the game. It also beats working.

 

 

Watching What You Eat When it all Looks Good

Looking for a place to eat lunch yesterday was actually kind of painful.

As I mentioned in my last post, I spent yesterday at a knife show and then did some window shopping at a couple stores near the knife show.

The problem was, at some point, I needed to get something to eat. As I’ve been on a weight loss program/lifestyle change–down 10 kilograms/22 pounds as of two days ago–my choices were suddenly limited. Complicating things was the fact I was in Ginza, one of the most expensive shopping districts in the world. (Sukibayashi Jiro, the currently trendy sushi restaurant is there along with other expensive restaurants.)

I looked over the menu at a steak house (my eating plan involves light carbs not light eating) but couldn’t find any prices on the menu and Ginza is not the kind of place you want to find yourself in an “if you have to ask, you can’t afford it” situation.

My next choice was to wander around until something caught my eye. Unfortunately, several fast food places caught my eye and I found myself struggling between my default mode (fast and cheap) and my eating plan (think, moron, think).

That’s when I suddenly felt hungry (in a cranky, burn the world sort of way–oh you like you don’t ever feel that way) and the devil over my left shoulder began whispering “McDonald’s French fries. Hot and crispy. Salty, tasty French fries. Cheese burgers with French fries. Hot crispy salty.”  The devil over my right shoulder suggested KFC, because I could get chicken, wouldn’t have to worry about the bread, and I don’t like their fries. The devil over my left shoulder kept whispering about French fries crispy and hot at the other place.

I fired up the maps on my phone and went looking for the KFC and instead found a large sign advertising a food court in the basement of the building. The sign had color pictures of the restaurants’ signature dishes and I went “yes” to all of them, temporarily forgetting it wasn’t a menu.

I chose a chicken place that turned out to be closed from lack of gas and a sushi place that was also closed because of a lack of gas. I ended up at a tonkatsu, or pork cutlet restaurant. It was exactly my kind of place: a bit grungy and full of locals. The pork was breaded, and the meal came with rice, but it also came with miso soup and a metric ton of cabbage (more or less). Either way, it was fewer carbs than I’d have eaten at a place with French fries hot and crispy and definitely had a lot more vegetables, all for about the same price.

I came out feeling full and, more importantly, didn’t feel hungry later as my body wasn’t searching my meal for traces of nutrition and, finding none, demanding more food.

Next time I go out I’ll carry a healthy snack and I’ll plan where to eat in advance. Or I’ll just burn the world.

 

The Twenty Minute Rule

Several hundred years ago, when I was at Ole Miss, I walked out of restaurant without eating. A few months later, I made my then girlfriend leave a restaurant.

For reasons I don’t fully understand, I have a 20 minute rule about service in restaurants in the South. In other places it’s a 10 minute rule, but in the South things are a bit more leisurely and you have to make allowances. (I once went to a party 20 minutes or so after the scheduled start time and had to help set up the party because, by Southern time keeping, I’d arrived early.)

I’ve heard of people leaving expensive stores because they couldn’t get a clerk’s attention to get a simple question answered. When I bring this up to Southerners, they usually frown and say a general “on behalf of the South I apologize to you” apology but also add “it’s a Southern thing” and then wonder out loud why I’m so impatient.

The first time I left a place I was looking for lunch. I went to a popular bar and restaurant and sat down at a table. There was a bartender there but he seemed busy with something and I just pulled out a book and started reading. After 10 minutes or so, I realized I hadn’t been served and looked for the bartender, who seemed to still be busy but his job did not, as near as I could tell, involve speaking to me, bringing me water, asking me if I wanted a drink or tracking down a waitress to do all of the above. After 20 minutes of waiting, including 10 minutes of pouting, I got up and left.

As I started to leave, the bartender finally said “can I get you a drink?” and I just said “too late” and left.

Later, my then girlfriend and I decided to go to a famous and fairly expensive restaurant on the square in Oxford, Mississippi (home of Ole Miss). I followed her as she bypassed the reservation stand and commandeered a table. We then waited and waited and waited whilst the wait-staff walked past us and ignored us.

After 20 minutes, I invoked the 20 minute rule and suggested we go to the other side of the square to a different restaurant. She said we’d only been there 20 minutes and needed to wait another seven days before they noticed and served us. (Something like that.) My response was a caring and touching and understanding “why the fuck would we do that?” (Note: I probably didn’t use those exact words, but they convey exactly what I was feeling.)

We went across the square and had a good meal but I suspect it was that moment that doomed the relationship. (More on that in another post.)

I never did eat at that expensive restaurant.