In Tokyo, the number of annual train rides per person is 742.
Tokyo's population is 35 million. I'm not sure if each of those people is taking 742 rides per year, but it's nonetheless impressive, considering New York's population is 19 million.
Paris: 216
London: 129
New York: 94
Boston: ha ha what?
Other facts:
The average delay for the shinkansen (bullet train) for the entire year of 2007 was 30 seconds. Let's see the airlines duplicate that!
The shinkansen started running in 1964. "Bullet" train in the US? 2000. 36 years later.
France's TGV system is almost as extensive as that of the shinkansen, spanning 1180 route-miles. Vive la France!
A few interesting tidbits about the sushi that everyone loves to eat because they think they're cultured:
While I was in Japan, I was told in what I think was a half-joking manner that the best people to make sushi are old men. They have dry and cold hands, which enables them to pat the rice together in the perfect way, and also preserves the fish in its freshest state. Thinking back on it, I do recall that most sushi makers at "regular" (read: not 回転寿司 kaitenzushi, the conveyor belt kind) sushi places were gentlemen on the elderly side.
Just the other day I heard from a coworker that women are a poor choice for sushi makers; they have warm, moist hands, which apparently can cause problems patting the rice and also can spoil the fish. Of course, this is why you don't see many, if any, female sushi makers. I'm not sure how much I believe that a pair of warm hands can "ruin" the raw fish in the very short time it takes to make a single piece of nigiri sushi, but it is true that the female headcount of sushi makers in Japan is very low.
Food for thought.
Yesterday I volunteered at the Junior Solar Sprint, an event organized by the Northeast Sustainable Energy Association. Teams of junior high school students came from as far as New Jersey and Delaware to compete in the event, which pits their custom-designed solar mini-cars against each other in a variety of categories.
The idea behind the event is that each team receives a standard solar car kit about the size of a radio controlled car or a toy car. I've gathered that beyond some basic guidelines and restrictions, teams may then customize to their content. Their cars are raced against each other in the main "speed" category, but there are also other categories like technical ingenuity or creativity. Certainly, there was a wide variety of interesting and cute car designs, as you can see in the photo gallery below.
It was an interesting event to take part in, and encouraging to see kids trying their hardest in a subject which is probably considered quite geeky. I hope that the current "greening" trend continues to gain public interest and support!
Picture gallery here:
Apparently I have a thing for frogs. I've posted about them here and also here.
I made a recording of frog noises back during rainy season in Gyoda, but never got around to posting it. It's a noise that I find strangely compelling. Perhaps, along with the sound of squealing cicadas and the smell of damp tatami, it serves as a reminder of Japanese days past.
That recording you may find here: Gyoda Frogs
Contrast it with a recording I just made a few days ago in Massachusetts. These frogs are much bigger than their rice field compatriots, making them much easier to see. Don't let recording levels fool you; they actually manage to be quieter than the frogs in Japan.
Enjoy the natural ambiance here: Massachusetts Frogs Recording
Now if only I can get close enough for an adequate recording of the rather-elusive "peeper frogs."
UPDATE: I got a recording of the peepers! Oh joy, right?
Check them out: Massachusetts Peepers Recording
In response to Pete's excellent rendition of a Saturday pick-up game of bad football, I made my own version. It's quite a bit different, regardless of the fact that the base footage is the same. Take a look and I guarantee you can't help but crack a smile.
Turn up those speakers and prepare to be rocked.
Because YouTube can't seem to get basic video encoding right, I strongly recommend you choose either of the files below instead of the YouTube version:
http://www.shock-e.com/media/confusion_bowl_remix.avi High Quality, 85MB
or
http://www.shock-e.com/media/confusion_bowl_remix320.avi Low Quality, 30MB
Failing that, you can always watch the YouTube version below. Be warned, you're missing out on the entire point of the video, as the audio sync is slightly off.
A few weeks ago a group of ALTs in my area played a game of tag football. It was the most unorganized event in recent memory. Thus, The Confusion Bowl I was born. Please enjoy the following "promotional clip," filmed and edited by none other than the infamous Peter Weber.
Stay tuned for my own take on The Confusion Bowl...perhaps even as soon as today!
We filmed another entry in the "friendship series" of short movies. All Pete's brainchildren, they've been featuring various friends and acquaintances we have here. If you notice, there's a common theme between the two pieces. Can you guess what it is?
The lighting is much better in this one.
Pete, Will, and I filmed a short film while out camping in Tochigi. I have to say, it's a fun little flick and I really enjoy how well the music fits.
Unfortunately it's pretty washed out due to the camera's white balance or something (it was a very bright day), but so be it. A cute film. Just click below for the YouTube video.
You didn't think I'd leave you hanging after my previous riveting portrayal of the tapestry of characters at my gym, did you? Certainly not. Let me get to part two, as obviously described in the title: Konami Sports Club's employees. Some of them teach certain yoga/aerobics/bootyboxing/whatever classes, others just wander around and look encouraging. Without further ado...
- The Asstapper has, I think, a slightly twisted perspective on what makes up American-style sportsmanship. Hailing under the full name of Asstapper McTappington, he has a unique habit of tapping one's hindquarters at the most unexpected times, whilst pronouncing "頑張って下さい！ (ganbatte kudasai: hang in there / try your best!) At the beginning I thought I was immune because he sometimes works at the same school as Pete and thus had a connection. I was safe! Recently he's started tapping me on the ass too, so I'm obviously not. The trick is to have your ass against the wall or sitting on something. Sadly Asstapper is a sneaky rascal and catches you when you least expect it, such as when you're bent over the water fountain. Gym goosing is never fun.
- I bet you never thought I'd be talking about Rambo at my gym, but it's true. Sylvester Stallone (along with his overrated career) died and came back as a Japanese aerobics instructor. Rambo is kind of a rare sight at Konami, but nevertheless he's reached character status. He teaches some sort of weight training / aerobics combination routine that's insanely popular. Maybe it's because everyone wants to aspire to his bandanna-wearing badassedness. I can understand the head-worn bandanna for anti-sweat purposes, but the reasoning behind the one tied around his upper arm eludes me. It even has the long free ends hanging down his arm just like Rambo. I expect any day now that inside those plastic weights of his is hidden an enormous helicopter machinegun that somehow he can wield with his enormous muscles and mow us all down (that part is fabricated; Konami's Rambo doesn't have enormous muscles...nor a machinegun, hopefully).
- Our third contestant only gets mention because Jenn spent I swear 10 minutes ranting about the ridiculousness of her clothing choice one evening. Jeanny gets her name from the tight hotpant-style cutoff jean shorts she wore one night. Normally I don't see this as much of a problem (aside from the fact that the shorts were rather unattractive) except for the fact that she's one of the more hardcore fitness instructors at Konami. It means that she came in a pair of denim shorts to teach aerobics. Simply imagining the potential for chafing boggles the mind. Singlehandedly, Jeanny has demonstrated both the sometimes unfathomable Japanese fashion sense as well as the ability to be marked as a character by the gay-looking gaijin duo. Props!
- Mondays have recently become my favorite gym-going day, thanks to Smiley. Back in the day (read: a few months ago) I started by calling her Guy Smiley in homage to the rather obscure Sesame Street talk show host character of the same name. Being that Konami's Smiley is female the name didn't really fit, and thus the “Guy” part was dropped. Anyway, as I was saying, Monday is my favorite gym day because of her. It's not that Smiley is particularly gorgeous or flirty (never talked to her) or even an amazing fitness instructor (I have no idea what makes one). It's just that she has this infectious smile that really leaves an impression. I guess you could say she kind of resembles a muppet, seeing as her face-splitting smile has never left her face for more than a second at any one time. I wonder how she does it. If you couldn't tell, I have an irrational crush on her and my goal is to talk to her without getting roped into taking “latin dance aerobics” and thus looking like a complete fool. My goal doesn't really matter anyway, as her smile does make the gym a brighter place to be. Maybe Asstapper could learn a thing or two from her and smile harmlessly instead of tapping asses. Hmmm...
This wraps up today's gym characters chapter. Next time you can look forward to a more abstract set, featuring mythical characters like The Thong and The Sweater.
Ganbatte kudasai!
A few months ago I got myself a shiny new membership to the Konami Sports Club here in Gyoda. It's a modest gym, nothing fancy and not particularly big. From what I've seen, it's pretty standard for Japanese gyms. I can only imagine that the clientele are also pretty standard. I've been to plenty of gyms back home, but I can't recall whether or not they had characters that are as interesting to describe as the ones are at Konami. Maybe that was because I didn't stay at any gym but my college gym for long enough to pick out anyone special.
Anyway, while introducing the gym's nuances to me, Pete pioneered our usage of the "character" nomenclature. He really was right, the place does have quite a few unique people in it, who only can be described as having "character."
- First off we have meathead. I've actually posted about him before but I'm not sure I did him justice. He is the foremost character because there's so much of him and he's so damn visible. I mean really, he is built like a tree. I've only seen him actually working about about 2% of the time he actually spends in the gym. The other 98% is spent gabbing with other wannabe-meatheads and touching women while ostensibly "teaching them." I noticed once a woman doing squats. She seemed to be doing fine by herself. Meathead's version of spotting her was cupping her ass with his enormous ham-hands to "help" her push up. Yeah, like I want a pair of meaty hands on my ass when I'm doing squats. Then again, maybe that's what Japanese women want in the gym.
- Our next character we appropriately dubbed The Stripper. Seriously, I have no other explanation for her appearance and behavior. She looks like she might be pushing 40, but she has the body of a 20 year old. She lifts quite heavy weights for the size of her body. She dresses in skin-tight everything (like bright pink spaghetti-strap tops and split-leg booty pants), and stares at herself in the mirror at all times. Her favorite exercise isn't really an exercise; it consists of standing and leaning on the freeweight rack with her ass stuck out into the room. Precisely what she's doing I haven't a clue, but I could wager a few guesses. Sure, it's pretty cool that she's obviously proud of her body, but what made me think "stripper" were the long intricately-painted and rhinestoned nails, the heavy makeup, and the huge gold hoop earrings. Yeah I know I'm stereotyping, but really, you'd probably say the same thing.
- Even before Meathead, the first person I noticed in the gym was Jacket. I think he was actually the first person I ever saw at the gym, even while I was doing my initial orientation. The guy enjoys a similar status to I and Pete (one of the biggest guys in the gym, w00t), but he does it with a more distinct style. The name derives from the fact that he wears this white vinyl Nike jacket at all times. He sweats like his innards are on fire, and he rolls up the sleeves of the jacket so it becomes sleeveless, but nevertheless he always wears the thing. He must really love that jacket! I could understand, I suppose, if the jacket was rivetingly cool, but it's not. I mean, the thing is vinyl! It's particularly amusing when he finishes one of his dramatic workout routines and collapses onto the floor, like he finished some epic marathon. Take the jacket off, man. You might find it easier to lift stuff.
- The next doesn't really need much introduction, because her name pretty much says it all. Pete dubbed her Perfect B's and I stand by his judgement. 'Nuff said.
- Naturally, there's also The Dude, but he's got an entire post dedicated to his glory, and I don't want to take away from that. We did recently save Jenn from Dude-Damnation by telling him that he couldn't talk to her because "Japanese people make her nervous" and "she's really concentrating on her workout." She owes us.
- Old Man Muscles is the name I came up with just now for a guy we otherwise call "the muscular old guy." He looks like he could be anywhere from 65 to 75, but he is frickin' honed. Pete said just yesterday, "Dude, if I had a body like that at his age, I'd be wearing even less than he does." Trudat. The man is like an old greek god. He's recently taken to wearing this weird tank top that doesn't even cover his nipples (at that point, I don't really understand the purpose for wearing a top at all) and scary booty-tight biking shorts ... zebra print. It's particularly distracting and disconcerting when he walks in front of you and you're trying to give the mirror your best "angry face," but let's be honest here. If I look like that when I'm his age, you can count on me going to the gym in a damn speedo.
- Sporty Spice is relatively new on the scene, having only come to the gym a few times, but nevertheless she made her impression and she's got herself a shiny new nickname. She looks eerily like she could've been a past student, but I'm not sure. The fact is that there's something about her (haven't figured it out yet) that makes her a character. That's aside from her sharp facial features and the workout gloves she wears, both of which scream "I will kill you if you so much as look at my machine." I said something very stupid to her yesterday and miraculously managed to come away with my life. Her alternative character name was Anime Girl because she seemed straight out of one, but it just didn't have the right sparkle for a good character name. I have big expectations for Sporty.
The fun part about having so many characters at the gym is wondering who will be there on any given night. Of course Dude nights are no fun, but everyone else sticks to their own business, thus allowing us to marvel at their characterness. It goes without saying that to everyone else there we are probably "The Gay Looking Gaijin" characters, but I do hope that we provide as much entertainment to them as they do to us.
Keep an eye out for the next installment of the Character series, in which I'll fill you in on the other half of the character set: Konami Sports Club employees.
Today as I was biking back from lunch I overheard two junior high school girls talking about me. The conversation went like this:
Girl 1: "Isn't he hot?"
Girl 2: "Really hot."
Regardless of the fact that they are probably 15 years my junior and also know very little about what criteria make a foreign man "very hot," it managed to perk me up just a tad on an otherwise dreary day.
It's the small things in life.
-
Tiny
So cute
Hairy!
Red (本当に赤ちゃんだね。)
Already made uncomfortable by gaijin
Frighteningly soft in the noggin
Not yet loud
Absolutely fascinating
Today I ate a McDonald's hamburger for the first time since I believe high school. Sure I've eaten stuff from there, but never actual burgers. It had its reasons at the beginning, then just became principle. I can't shake the feeling of having betrayed some abstract principles I once had, like I'm some sort of cheap whore who sold out. It shouldn't matter. What I should be more worried about is the disgusting blobs of fat itching to get into my circulatory system.
A year ago, even more recent than that actually, I may have blamed this on my living in Japan. I don't doubt that some changes in my lifestyle can be attributed to living here. I don't doubt that the nonchalance with which I ordered a double cheeseburger (man it was tasty, I will admit) does have something to do with a few principles I've gotten rather lax on since being here. Mostly I think I'm just getting older and my priorities have changed. I still hate, for example, George W. Bush with a burning passion that rivals the sun, but I can now say しょうがない (shouganai: it can't be helped) and try to move on from my fury.
Most people, I feel, get more apathetic as they get older, be it from personal experience, choice, or the "way of the world." I think that age-onset-apathy has indeed started to affect me, but I do also think (hope) that I'm just slowly learning to relax a bit. There's a little bit of Japan in t here I believe, as I find myself valuing a lack of conflict both within myself and with others.
That being said, I still fear I may come off as confrontational, high-strung, and bitter to some. Here's to learning the slow walk of life.
I have a private student who comes to my house roughly every week for English lessons.
Yesterday I noticed that he had seemingly started to shave his fuzzy adolescent mustache.
"Congratulations," I thought, "from now on you will be forever prisoner to the bonds of the razor!"
Last night I had a dream in which I was Harry Potter team-teaching (that's what we JETs are supposed to do, teach hand-in-hand with a Japanese teacher though it rarely works out that way) for a bunch of high-school aged students. Sounds familiar? My life indeed. The problem was that regardless of my massive magical power (it consisted of concentrating really hard like I was constipated and pointing at the students), the students were terribly unruly.
In my real-life classes, I either fall silent for long stretches of time or yell over them. But Harry Potter doesn't take that kind of crap. What did I (Harry Potter) do? Well shit, I dismantled that badly-designed (yeah, that's what I said in the dream) castle and made the students carry the pieces, which were largely canvas rolls, around on their backs. That's when they turned into cartoon characters and tried to mug Happy the dwarf (of Snow White fame) in the jungle, who was also a student lugging canvas. I and my team-teacher put a stop to that by beating them senseless with what I think were umbrellas.
Sadly, I don't have the power to concentrate and point at students to paralyze them. This all boils down to the obvious fact that I still have class-based anxiety, even after a year and a half.
Where's my umbrella?
Today I was biking to the post office to buy a stamp. On the way, I saw an old codger shaving...in the street.
Chalk that up to the list of things I probably won't see back home.
My voice has worsened since yesterday and I've thus spoken as little as humanly possible today. It has left me with a lot of time to listen to the conversations that are always buzzing around me. Usually I listen but not actively. Today I have little else to do.
Three teachers were discussing how an "oo" sound doesn't necessarily automatically claim accent in an English word. The first examples, in which they thought it did automatically take precedence, were "shampoo" and "bamboo." But then they pointed out "Liverpool" and a few others.
Finally one of them exclaimed: "Just who decides this stuff anyway?"
Indeed.
Honestly I hate "blog memes." But I couldn't help myself on this one. It seemed like a pretty fun idea. Plus, I have really had almost nothing of mention to write about lately. The beginnings of winter do that to you I guess.
From Smoochdog:
If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.
Actually, I'd say the title is a bit misleading. I'd say the marathon conquered me is more accurate, but at least I made it through. 10.5 kilometers (about 6 miles) is a lot longer than it used to be in high school when I could run that on a daily basis.
The good news is that 5 years past my physical prime, I placed 142nd out of 692 boys who are 10 years my junior. As we all get older, we grasp at little positive statements we can make like "my physical fitness is better than that of the average Japanese high school student." Rock.
Today I was walking back from one of my classes, marveling (not really) at the fact that the halls were frigidly on-par with the outside temperature. At least, as of December, they're allowed to turn the heaters on in classrooms. My thoughts wandered, as they often do, to the lack of insulation in buildings in this part of Japan. For some reason I thought back to living through winter in my own high school days. Thanks to the much colder climate in Massachusetts, schools are insulated and have much better (in theory) heating systems.
What stopped me was that I suddenly realized I had been thinking about my Massachusetts high school classrooms in a Japanese context; all of the rooms had sliding doors and kerosene heaters. It meant to me that I've been here long enough so that my life here has started to color my perceptions, even in small ways, of things elsewhere. I wondered how many of my other memories I had unwittingly altered simply by living here for the time that I have.
I think everyone's memories are certainly colored by their current outlook, but have you ever had a moment of such overt alteration?
In other news, this is the 400th post since the inception of Musings of a Drunken Monk, back in May of 2003 when it was hosted on a computer sitting in the living room of my apartment in Somerville, MA. This also marks the second almost-consecutive month that my site has moved over a gigabyte of bandwidth. Thank you photo gallery (and my awesomely few ... fewly awesome ... whatever ... readers)!!
Last night's Jamiroquai concert was pretty good. They play very well live, and even though it was an arena concert (meaning you dance in the tiny aisles of seats) it was fun. I do admit that I much prefer club concerts with general admission/standing only.
At the concert the foreign population was out in force. What I noticed was the overwhelming prevalence of foreign guys with Japanese girlfriends, all of whom were sizing each other up. I don't mean the Japanese girlfriends were sizing each other up (though some do that), but rather the guys. I think there's this unspoken competition ... like who has the prettiest girlfriend or something. Certainly, all the foreign guys in my section were staring at each other (and more strongly, each others' girlfriends) quite openly.
It's like the "couple stare" you get sometimes from Japanese people, only more baleful.
I also noticed that there was a huge advertisement (with blaring "new" music sounding exactly like all his other songs) for Bon Jovi on the way in and out of the arena. I guess concert promoters in Japan think that if someone listens to one foreign band, he must listen to them all. Honestly, I can't imagine that anyone who likes Jamiroquai enough to go to an $80 concert would also like Bon Jovi enough to go to a $95 concert. But who knows ... maybe Bon Jovi has some groovy quasi-funk/disco grooves in his songs I've just never discovered.
I'm coming more and more to realize that my life wouldn't be half as interesting if I didn't teach at the 工業 (kogyo: technical) school. Recently, just about every day I have an interesting story to tell about my one daily class I teach there. Naturally today was no exception.
I went to class and my partner teacher informed me that the students were tired due to "Judo day" which was yesterday. I guess they just spent all day throwing each other around in the gym (that, after all, is what Judo is about). So he wanted to make class 10 minutes shorter, as well as do nothing. Being that I need his help to get anything done in the class, I accepted and we started a class which involved me talking to students, handing out my handout, and going to the bathroom.
It was into the bathroom that one of the students followed me. I was mid-piss, and assuming he would just do the same, continued to piss. But apparently he wanted to talk. About my equipment. After inspecting it. Most people know that it's very difficult to force yourself to stop pissing. I had a good one built up, so naturally by the time I was able to pinch off, he had gotten a long hard look at my junk. Waving him away was pointless, as was trying to cover myself properly. In the end, he was amazed that I had no foreskin. He said "because you're a foreigner?" I agreed to make it simpler (plus, though I know the word for foreskin, I really didn't want to discuss the percentages and rationale of circumcision in the USA. Now that I think of it, I think he was wondering if foreigners just don't have foreskins.
I didn't even get to finish my piss, I was so intent on leaving that bathroom.
I've noticed this year that every time the seasons change, I feel a bit 懐かしい (natsukashii: nostalgic). I think it's because it reminds me of the first time (last year) I experienced the new season in Japan. Winter is coming, and my mood has been rather pensive as I think back on the past year, and what I was doing (and with whom) at this time last year.
It makes me feel old and sad.
Relatively recently, I've found out some interesting stuff about Japanese relationships (romantic I mean) versus American relationships.
As it turns out, if someone avoids talking about their relationship (which many people tend to do), they are making an attempt to be modest. If they do talk about their relationship, they play it down and highlight the bad parts in another attempt to be modest. Back home, if someone avoids talking about or plays down their relationship, you can be pretty sure they're either unhappy or being shady.
Why is it that talking about (what should be) a good thing, even mentioning it, could be considered rude or immodest? Wow.
Today I was informed by a group of students that I have a small ass. I already knew this, but damn ... to have people other than my close friends reminding me of my embarrassingly small ass ... well it was a lovely conversation.
Then they wondered why women have bigger asses. I told them "so I can appreciate them."
Just kidding. I told them the whole "having babies" reason.
This Saturday a bunch of people in 行田 (Gyouda) had a halloween party. You can find the pictures in my gallery installation but they're private photos so you'll have to have a login.
In other news I added a new plugin to my blogging system and now every post gives the reader the ability to "subscribe." In theory, this means that if you comment and want notification when others comment (or I change the post), you can subscribe. Of course, if you read my posts by way of RSS, this is made largely pointless I think. Some sites seem to update their RSS feed when new comments are posted, but I'm unsure if mine does.
I've read and heard a lot about the Japanese educational system emphasizing rote memorization, versus the "western" educational system emphasizing "thinking for one's self." I never thought my high school experience particularly emphasized being a real analytical thinker, but I wonder ...
I have a private student, and in most of my lessons I try to work on analyzing the readings we do and understanding the meaning, rather than pure memorization and regurgitation. Thus far, in almost a year of teaching, he seems rather incapable of analytical thinking. My regular high school students seem to exhibit similar patterns. Is it the age? The education system? Hmm ...
It really is true that every time I go to the Post Office, something goes wrong.
This was a simple pay-the-water-bill expedition, which turned into a bureaucratic semi-nightmare. It involved people calling the tax office, someone telling me something about my savings account which I didn't understand at all, and a lot of waiting.
You'd think I would've gotten used to it by now ... or at least learned to remember my dictionary.
Matt had the same thing to say several years ago. I imagine, since he just "graduated" the same program as mine after 3 years, the timing for said realization was roughly the same. I think we all have the same thing happen.
He's right, cellphone below desk-level does look an awful lot like you're playing with yourself.
This is a follow-up to yesterday's entry.
No, I will not be teaching from any book of the Bible today.
This is something that occurred to me a while ago but I never bothered to mention here. It's something that I'm sure every teacher in my program has also realized, and anyone else who has ever taught also realized.
The bare truth of it is: whatever shenanigans you pulled as a kid in school ... no matter how sneaky you thought you were, no matter how hidden you thought your bullshit was ... teacher saw it. We all thought teachers were blind or incredibly imperceptive, being adult and all. We thought we were masters of disguise and untruth. We were wrong. Teacher knew, and teacher tolerated. Those who got caught were just pushing farther than teacher's impressively-high tolerance.
I can't be bothered to tell you the number of students passing notes (not very common, really), sending emails on their mobile phones (modern day equivalent of the former), chatting, talking about me or other teachers, doing other homework in class, drawing ... and through it all I have come to the conclusion that most teachers also have; don't bother, busting them isn't even worth your time. Just let them think that hunching over their drawing and pretending to "rest" while you pass by is working and fooling you. They'll realize, with the onset of age and "wisdom," just how much teacher knew.
I was a pretty good student in high school, but even I had my moments of adolescent brilliance, like the rubber band banked straight into Mr. Lussier's forehead or the math homework done in English class. My life now makes me appreciate so much more what my teachers did for me and other students.
It's been a while indeed. But let me tell you a few things I've picked up while back in the States:
- Baseball is an incredible televised sport.
- American is definitely the worst airline I've flown. I can't explain to you the seething rage I weathered while standing in line at check-in for two hours only to almost miss my flight. Every other airline, you can get to the airport an hour before your flight and still have time to noodle around in crappy souvenir shops. I (and several hundred others) stagnated while the entire flight to Puerto Rico got checked before us. This was, of course, because the flight was leaving in 15 minutes and American had failed to provide adequate staff to check in the horde. So then I got to my plane 5 minutes before it departed. Maki did miss her flight because they printed the wrong gate number on her boarding pass. Way to go! As I said at the beginning of this trip: Never. Again.
- A wedding can have a 5 hour open bar without killing its attendants.
- Food in the States really is that much larger than it is in Japan. I had apparently forgotten. My stomach has obviously shrunken to the size of a pea, as I couldn't eat a single meal without being obscenely full. It's like I got a gastric bypass. Without the staples.
- Japan is way too hot for its own good.
- The MBTA in Boston still sucks. But now the Airport stop is all high-tech and Park Street has a souvenir shop.
- Reverse Culture Shock, whenever I should return, is going to sting ... a lot.
- Trees are the most fantastic thing I have ever laid my eyes on. Gyoda should give a few of 'em a try.
- I've been a lot more homesick than I thought. I guess it took a good jolt to get me out of hiding it from myself. I think I prefer to keep hiding it.
- My sister is not Bridezilla and that is awesome.
- Must ... figure out ... career ...
- 18 days is never enough time. Oh, how it had looked so long on my calendar.
- There were so many things that didn't need to come with me. Computer, shirts, pants, shorts, shoes, Japanese study ... What was I thinking when I packed this stuff?
- My Japanese still absolutely sucks.
In all, I am happy to be back. Of course it was incredible to be home after nearly a year, but it was also hard at times due to memories, a slight dose of reverse culture shock, and habits I've picked up since coming here. For one, I've come to very much value my time alone. You don't really get much of that when you have only a short time to get a million and one things done with a million different people. And I didn't even get to go golfing!
Anyway, it was great. Thanks all, especially my family, for making it memorable.
Last night I was watching a TV program about Beat Takeshi's childhood life. I guess the program is more supposed to be about his abusive alcoholic idiotic father, and it shows. The main premise of last night's episode was how the father gets fall-down drunk every evening, crashes into the house while the family is quietly doing all sorts of domestic things, and wreaks havoc.
It was supposed to be funny.
It could be funny, I suppose, if he just knocked over the table and broke the shoji screen door and fell outside. All three of those activities he performed with alacrity, but the problem was that he also beat his kids, threw his wife outside (damaging her back), threw his aging mother into the family altar, and smashed her prized shamisen. I was horrified. My viewing partner, meanwhile, was dying of laughter.
I got to thinking. Is it okay to make light of such a terrible situation? Is my sense of propriety overblown? For me there is absolutely nothing funny about a guy beating the shit out of his family (and neighbors, in this case). But I can also assume I'm missing something culturally here. I want to say it's related to the Japanese tendency to smooth over or ignore the terrible parts of life. But that would be ignorant to say I know what I'm talking about. I've gotten the impression that domestic violence was (and still is?) more ingrained in Japanese family life, but to what degree? And how is it (if at all) connected to the much lesser role a father plays in the emotional fabric of the family?
It is with great modesty and humility that I announce my overwhelming genius. As if you didn't already know, it's high time you did know: a genius walks amongst the commoners, and it is I.
How, you may ask, can such a bumbling dumbass as yourself have the gall to call yourself a genius? Obviously, I'll tell you.
I have discovered the secret to making stale chips (of the American snack variety, not the silly British name for fried potato slabs) crispy again.
Indeed.
Mom and dad were so wonderfully kind as to include a bag of Lime Tostitos in the most recent package from home, and sadly the bag popped open no doubt thanks to gingerly care at the hands of the wonderfully efficient USPS. That gave the chips five days to become more cardboard than chip.
But I, yes I, have de-staled them.
The next step is to feed my massive mind ... by eating them. Didn't you know MSG is brain food?
(In all seriousness, check out the MSG link. It's too bad it makes things taste so damn good, because MSG really is pretty bad for you.)
Let me start this off by saying I really hate blog memes. I think it's the most self-indulgent, pseudo-engaging bullshit that has come to the web since blogging itself. Since memes are virtually the same thing as those annoying "personality quiz" emails that everyone sends around, they are equally lame in my book. But actually you know what I think it is? I just hate the word "meme."
And yet here I am, making something of my own.
Fret nor criticize not, for this is an exercise for me in archiving memories of Japan. Everyone will form their own mental associations with their experiences, but I find there are several I've thought of that would be near-universal to a foreigner who has lived in Japan.
And here goes: What will I eternally associate with Japan?
- The tatami smell. Indescribable until you smell it. It's something like musty dried grass. Most of the time it's a good smell, until it gets continually damp during 梅雨 (rainy season). For me, this smell defines Japan.
- Ramen and the slightly-offensive oily smell outside the ramen shop. You haven't lived until you've eaten real ramen. Not that $0.15 Maruchan crap you get in the supermarket.
- 柴犬(Shibaken) barking. Cute, but the most evil dog breed to date. I've never heard a dog bark or whine more. While there's nothing particularly special about an overly-barking dog, there's something about a Shiba's bark that seems very distinct to me. I remember playing a video game that took place in Japan, and one of the ambient sound effects was constant Shiba barking. It was dead on accurate, as I learned when I came here.
- Cicada calls during the summer. Cicadas are really huge and creepy but the sound they make conjures pleasant (somehow) memories of the Japanese summer ... sweltering though it may be. Because I first came to Japan in the middle of summer, I think this sound will always be associated with the bewhilderment and exhilaration of my first few weeks here.
- Japanese children saying "Haro!" when I pass. A future outside of Japan guarantees that now is the only time I will be able to have such a strong (and hopefully positive) influence on so many young minds. Once I leave Japan, this won't be a reminder but simply a memory.
- 山鳩 (Mountain Pigeon) calls. These birds look so much like Mourning Doves that I thought they were the same bird. But they make a completely different sound. It sounds kind of like that cooing sound pigeons make, but much nicer and pretty damn loud.
- Local trains passing by. Somehow it's comforting. The sad part is, this is the most expensive and slow train in Japan, yet anything Amtrak would be eating its dust. Kinda crappy audio file here.
This concludes my list for now. I'll be doing some more sounds in the future, as I thought it might help people better imagine the world I live in. Sadly, I have no Cicada sounds, which is one of my favorite sounds of Japan.
Some of my third year (12th grade) English students have decided to keep a web-journal thing for the duration of their Sougo (kind of like independent study) English class. So, go on over and take a look if you feel like it. There's not much yet as they don't post often yet, but I'm hoping to get them to post more often. Feel free to say hi.
がんばれ、生徒たち！
Scientists have been working for a while on how to turn biomass (human/agricultural/industrial waste) into something other than environmental contaminants. They've come up with a way to get hydrogen out of these wastes. Now, they came up with an even better way.
Scientists push bacteria to quadruple hydrogen production | The Register
This is so cool. Apparently with the help of some chocolate (or toothpaste, or other stuff) you can shine the bottom of a soda/beer can to a mirror finish and start fires with it. I will have to remember this for my future wilderness adventures (if, that is, I can ever get out of the crowded Japanese suburbs).
Tracker Trail - Fire - Can of Coke and a chocolate bar
This also brings up this great survival site that this article is hosted on: Tracker Trail
Greggman shows off a veritable goldmine of really cool um ... things to look at. They are, I gather, design concepts for games or something? Or maybe just computer animation. Regardless, it all looks so damn cool. If you can figure their page out, the direct link for the place is www.scene.org/news.php.
Update: Apparently these aren't video files like I thought. That shouldn't matter to many of you because they're just Zipfiles in which you can find an EXE file that you run. Most of you with a Post-2002 computer should be able to run these just fine, I think. If you have a cheesy graphics-card-barely-runs-solitaire laptop like me, you might have a little difficulty ...
One is cheap (free) and one is not. Both are from boingboing. Boy, it would sure be cool if someday I could find something cool like this on my own ... heh.
First up, we have a do-it-yourself iPod stand made from cardboard/paper/whatever. You can download the template, which is Creative Commons licensed. Badass, especially because who the heck really wants to spend $30 on the iPod dock?
lists and diagrams: DIY iPod stand
Second, we have something that is not cheap at all, but for people like me, extremely useful. It's some sort of uber Poison-Ivy/Oak medicine. I am personally very allergic to the stuff, able to somehow get a reaction to it sometimes without even touching it. Anything that fights the heinous nastiness that follows is good in my book.
I need one of these. The idea is that the clock, when you hit the snooze button, runs away and hides, thus forcing you to get up and find it when it next goes off. Ingenious!
Every day, people stumble across this site (and a zillion others on the web of course) through a variety of search strings in all those search engines out there. My hosting service keeps track of the terms used in searches that brings people to the site. Here is an interesting breakdown:
53: ass
12: justin
11: iceland
8: government
8: hot
7: gladiators
7: leaning
7: pics
7: tower
6: spring
5: weed
4: mountains
4: korean
3: zen
3: people
3: images
3: dame
3: the
3: monk
3: pictures
3: notre
I left off lower searches. Notice, of course, the search for "ass" is more than four times more popular than that of the next most popular search.
Alternately, there are the strings that people used on the search for this specific site (www.shock-e.com). Unsurprisingly, pervy searches rank supreme. I suppose if I really want traffic, all I need to do is put a lot of dirty words up. Here are some sample searches on this site, courtesy of the site log:
"ass" (by far the most popular)
"anal" (duh)
"sex" (duh x2)
"man boobs" (no, I'm not kidding)
"miss sixty" (what?)
"squat" (that's disgusting)
"panties" (... sigh ...)
One of my teachers asked today what we call a "fear of women." My first guess was "mammophobia" but quickly I realized that was probably a fear of breasts (heaven forbid). A quick Google Search for "fear of women" came up with this fantastic site: The Phobia List!
There are things in here I never knew someone could fear. Even if you may never be able to bring up your knowledge of Caligynephobia (fear of beautiful women) at your next slammin' party, this is one hell of an entertaining (and informative) list.
It's like a book club with the entire world. I came across this site while I was using www.stumbleupon.com to find new places.
The idea is, you register a book you no longer want (or want to share), and then you put some sort of thingie on the book so people know what to do with it. Then you "free" the book, by leaving it somewhere. Then, in theory, people will pick up the book, and hopefully get on the internet and register the book with the site. Then you can see where it went, and what people thought about it!
I imagine a problem may be that an awful lot of these books get thrown away.
Here are some fun things to play with/watch on a rainy/cloudy/sunny/whatever day. I remember these were quite effective for whiling away the hours while I was supposed to be writing a term paper in college.
Kaleidescope
(Trippy Online Kaleidescope Thingie)
Crazy Wireframe Creature
(Manipulate a Slightly Gimpy Creature)
Very Busy Clock
(Click on the Link Above the Clock for More Cool Things)
I love this song. It's terribly cutesy and a little sad and very simple, but it's the perfect candidate for translation by me! You see, in case you hadn't yet thought of this, my Japanese still sucks. So here we go, first in Japanese, then in romanified Japanese, then English.
Note that I'm not some Japanese superstar so you're not gonna see as many pretty kanji characters as I'd like in here.
--
僕の子犬がいなくなった (boku no koinu ga inakunatta)
白い足白いしっぽ (shiroi ashi shiroi shippo)
ずっといっしょだったのに (zutto issho datta no ni)
僕の子犬がいなくなった (boku no koinu ga inakunatta)
白い耳白い背中 (shiroi mimi shiroi senaka)
いつもいっしょだったのに (itsumo issho datta no ni)
僕はかわいた涙で (boku wa kawaita namida de)
まい日くらしているはやく (mainichi kurashite iru, hayaku)
かえってきて (kaette kite)
雨の日も風の日も (ame no hi mo kaze no hi mo)
まい日さんぽしてあげる (mainichi sanpo shite ageru)
だからはやくはやくかえってきて (dakara hayaku hayaku kaette kite)
My very rough English translation follows. Please comment and correct as you see fit.
My puppy is missing (lit. "became not here")
White feet, white tail
For a long time, we were together, but...
My puppy is missing
White ears, white back
We were always together, but...
My tears are dry
Every day I live, hurry (this and the above line are tough for me)
Come home!
On both rainy days and windy days
Every day I take you for a walk
So hurry, hurry, come home!
--
The song comes from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack, and though very Japanesey, it's a nice little song.
I saw these a couple of months ago but they didn't have the one I wanted. Just the other day I bought a pair of these. They are so cute. Yes I know that sounds girly/gay/whatever but they are awesome.
You know you want one. Which ones do I have, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. "EAT FROG" and "YELLOW FROG" are the ones I have. They keep me smiling on the cloudiest of days. Aww.
Actually, they don't at all, but haw haw boy did I fool you ... !
Go to Images and be treated to a special gallery of my new Keitai. As you can see, the one sort-of disadvantage of a Japanese cell phone is that they are huge. In comparison, the Keitai is probably twice as bulky as my Verizon phone. But as you can see, the Verizon phone has a tiny-ass screen, not to mention the fact that it's a total piece of crap. I guess their Keitais are so big because they cram so much in there. Mine has:
- GPS Navigation
- 2.0MegaPixel Camera with Flash (same as my current normal camera)
- English-Japanese-English dictionary
- Text/Email/URL recognition on the camera (scan a word and it'll look it up in the dictionary, or scan a url/email and it will copy it to the addressbook)
- MP3 Player
- 2.4Mbps (faster than the average American DSL service) broadband
- The Kitchen Sink
- Downloadable EZChannel movie/TV/radio programming
- Can Opener/Corkscrew
- List of top 100 pickup lines guaranteed to work on Japanese women with bad taste in men
I imagine those who aren't tech-geeks are saying "big friggin' deal" but imagine this: this phone is stable!!! My old Verizon phone would crash twice a day. Crash, as in like Windows. As in have to remove the battery to "reboot" the stupid thing. Stay tuned, and surely you'll see a photo gallery of me beating the hell out of that useless pile of electronic junk.
As for the 100 pickup lines, they must work, because man there are a lot of ugly foreign guys with good-looking women. We've come to the conclusion that there is a significant portion of the Japanese female population who have absolutely abomidable taste in men. Anyway, enjoy the Keitai. I know I will!
For the past few weeks, I have been the unfortunate host to a very irritating set of insanely-itchy insect bites. Maybe a month ago, I mowed the lawn and did some cleaning around the house, and that evening "The Curse" appeared. I swear a group of ninja mosquitos attacked my ankles out of nowhere and slowly worked their way up my left leg. I was on fire for days. Thankfully, it went away within a week.
Cue "The Return of The Curse." This time it was the right leg.
Having suffered through the insanity once before and remembering just how much I wanted to scratch my leg with sandpaper (this did actually occur to me, by the way), I went straight to the doctor. The (tentative) diagnosis? Scabies! Oh joy!
Now before you get all "ewww Justin has a nasty STD" on me, keep this in mind. Scabies isn't an STD. You can get it from an unclean environment, hugging a carrier, or even shaking hands with someone. How's that for sexually transmitted? Regardless of the "it's not as naffy as you think" rationale, I still feel like a leper. And boy, if you like all that medieval role-playing or whatnot, is scabies for you! Why do I feel like a leper? Oh, perhaps it's the feeling that everyone is a little hesitant to get near you. Maybe it's the feeling that your affected bodypart will fall off when you get into a hot shower. Maybe it's the fact that there are little friggin bugs laying eggs in a burrow in your flesh! But it really is a riproaring time, here in the leprosy colony. Let me fill you in on the joys of leprosy.
- Personal Space: Nothing says "I need me time" like some red itchy skin lesions. Accordingly, nothing says it like the words "I have scabies." You'll be surprised how much people value your privacy when you have a contagious parasite. It's sweet. It's just you, your thoughts, and the little fuckers burying their bodies in your epidermis. You'll have all that time to yourself! You can spend all that time sterilizing your room and your house, just like you've always wanted to do! Because you know, what I really wanted to spend my Wednesday night doing was not going to see a movie but rather it was mopping, vacuuming, and sterilizing an entire house that was made nigh uninhabitably dirty by people other than myself, and may be the original cause for my infestation!
- Imagination: The itching, which according to medical texts typically gets worse at night (I can attest to that, though it does burn pretty much all day), will have you thinking of new and very colorful methods of gaining scratch-satisfaction. Serrated knives, forks, and amputation by chainsaw all seem to be attractive options.
- Pharmacies: I imagine we've all had to fill embarrassing prescriptions before. How about going to your local CVS pharmacy, where the woman (it has to be a member of the opposite sex, just like the doctor who diagnosed you, which somehow makes it twice as uncomfortable) tries hard to remain professional and not make personal wagers on how you got your personal leprosy flava. So she goes to the back to see if they have any, where for all you know, she's cringing and wiping her hands, hoping she didn't contract The Curse simply by touching a piece of paper you held. Ah, they're out at this CVS, how about we call the other one? Sure, you can announce it to the other pharmacists at this location and the other one that there's a leper on the loose. I do remember getting the "wow, come here often?" look from the other pharmacist, who had seen me the day before when I had to get a copy of another prescription. That's a fun time, let me tell you. Oh yeah, they have loads of the cream (see below) in the other location. You just have to go there and hope no one makes fun of you there, too ...
- Cream! Do you know how they treat it? Full body skin lotion. Go ahead, cover every square inch of your body (including face, foot soles, and anything else you can think of) with a cream that smells mildly like Justin Dufresne. Then leave it on for 8-14 hours. If you don't know who Justin Dufresne is, I'll give you the scoop: he's a guy I've known my whole life, and ever since he came back from Europe he's been ... different. Namely he has a particular odor associated with his personal hygiene habits that we all have come to refer to simply as the "Dufresne" smell. It's not necessarily bad (sometimes), it's just ... Dufresne. It took me stewing in the smell for a good hour before I realized it smelled exactly like his hair. So, you put the cream on, smell like Dufresne, and you lie down to sleep and everything gets all oily like the cream. Faaaantastic! The best part is having to ask your male roommate, who in all likelihood, like everyone else, is doing his best to respect your need for space, to slather it on the part of your back that you simply can't reach. Sounds appealing? Oh yeah, both for him and you!
- Fear of it reaching your junk: Because you've always wondered what it would look like if a "problem" ever happened to your parts ... and you really really want to know.
Honestly, doesn't that sound like fun? Who wouldn't want to experience such madcap hilarity! Obviously I didn't want to miss out, because why else would I have the pleasure of spending my evening cleaning and decontaminating?
Sounds like your bag? I've compiled a few simple steps for you to follow that will maximize your chances of catching the scabies fun-train:
- Hang out at a laundromat and rub yourself with peoples' clothes before they get washed.
- Don't wash yourself. Ever.
- Live in a less-than-clean environment. Refuse to clean until your roommates do, which results in dust bunnies larger (and more hardassed ... ever seen a dustbunny rumble with a rodent?) than the average NYC rat.
- Be really friendly with those grubby guys who hang around in Harvard Square, drink 40s, and beg for money for more 40s. No, these aren't the homeless guys. They have a more respectable place in society. These guys are teenage "punks." Go hug a punk. If he doesn't punch you and call you a fag, you'll be sure to contract some sort of parasite.
- Ride public transportation in Boston. Hang out as much as possible at the Boylston T stop.
Well, I'm sure you get the idea. Have fun, and remember, in the dark ages, they didn't have the cream. Ever wonder where the term "seven year itch" came from?
Yeah.
" … and now that dream is gone from me." I apologize, my Matrix: Reloaded jest wasn’t that funny. Har har.
I did really have a dream. The only thing that gives me pause in naming it a nightmare is the lack of rank terror that is to me what typically defines a nightmare. This dream was more subtle, more discomfiting, and in that way so much more terrifying than what I might call a simple nightmare. There weren’t any monsters or naked-at-school episodes or long weightless plunges from heights.
My dream took shape in the form of a wall—stationary, white, isolating. I couldn’t move my body, not even my eyes. I could only stare at the wall. An all-too-convenient dream-flashback informed me that I had been in a car accident, and that I was left utterly immobilized. Though my mind was perfectly intact my body could respond to my commands no more than might a statue. It was torture. I was stuck in this immobile form, and there was absolutely nothing I could accomplish of my own accord.
But there was hope. Weekly I had a trip to some sort of machine (my mind’s interpretation of dialysis?) that was able to drain me of my body’s toxins and give me a momentary lease to live life more fully. I could move! I could speak! I can tell you, the feeling of freedom when I was first informed of this miracle machine was something I can’t very well describe. But freedom in the dream is as fleeting as it is here in the waking world. You see, I could indeed walk, but only in a spasmodic and discomforting imitation of walking. I could talk, but instead of words pouring from my mouth I could form no more than a bestial yowl.
My family brought me to a nice restaurant during my few days of freedom. As is wont to happen in a dream, my entire high school class was there, forming some sort of gauntlet through which I was forced to walk to get to the dining room. It was hell. In waking, I like to think that I have gone on to bigger and better things than the majority of them. In dream, I was paraded staggering and twitching in front of them, unable to meet any of their eyes for the shame of it. I tried to tell them that I was still alive within this unresponsive shell, but I could only groan and gurgle. A much-disliked coworker was there as a waitress, exulting in my debasement. She saw me try to move my arms—I almost did!!—and her satisfaction at my self-defeat burned. What do I remember most about the dream? It was the shame, burning hot in my head.
In the end, the effect of the toxin-machine wore off. I ended up back in the hospital room, alone with the white wall and my own fevered thoughts. My family left. The nurse left. I was alone in a prison too small for my brain.
As I’ve come to expect in a dream, it drifted off into something much more blissfully mobile. But it wasn’t long before I woke up to my bladder’s protestations. I remember an intense wash of relief when I awoke in my own bed, able to move my eyes and my limbs, able to go to the bathroom simply by moving my legs, getting some flip-flops, and going. It is here that the dream coincides with nightmare, thanks to the feeling of elation when you wake up and realize that the fall you just took didn’t kill you, that the monster wasn’t catching up to you on the conveyor belt, that your girlfriend hadn’t broken up with your pathetic ass. It’s powerful. I came back from my bathroom visit, fully pleased with myself that I was able to do so without assistance. I lay back and started to fall back to sleep, and my body went numb. I cannot describe to you the terror that shot through me, the instant of absolute truth I felt that I would lose my body forever to this numbness. It was enough to wake me with the shock of icewater and keep me awake until I was absolutely sure that my body responded as I commanded. Have you ever awoken from a dream where you were sure that something was still in the room with you, in one of those shadows in the corners? Have you felt that unspeakable, irrational terror? Imagine that terror, but imagine that the only enemy is your own body.
I wonder if this whole experience was a warning. I could wonder as to its source. Internal or external warning, it doesn’t make a difference. I have lived my life too unaware of the dangers around me and the circumstances that wrap the lives of others. I am relatively sure that my own mind’s interpretation of physical handicap was dreadfully inaccurate. But the experience was enough to make me think, which I suppose is the point. How have I gone through my life feeling the discomfort that I know so many others also feel in the presence of the mentally or physically infirm? I guess I have been an asshole, unable to come to terms with the circumstances with which others are forced to live every day. I am fortunate in that I tasted the warning without living it. It was enough to make me think. I haven’t thought so much about a dream in my entire life. To this point I have made the mistake of avoiding the discomfort and ignorance I have long harbored for handicaps. I guess it has been a long-waiting change.
Note: This entry is by no means designed to offend or disparage. My facts on physical or mental disability are surely warped; I make no guarantee to accuracy. If you feel the need to correct or inform, by all means please feel free to comment. This post is authored simply as a personal epiphany to be shared with others.
Me. I am the next Steve Jobs.
I had this sudden realization (well, this has been a known fact for some time, but one that I hadn't really given any real thought to until today) that the computer industry needs a good swift kick in the ass to up its "cool" factor. You see, there's this whole "geek" stigma that isn't going anywhere.
While my next fashion prediction is that geekiness is the next "in," I propose to bring the two together faster than they might naturally happen. The catalyst, you may ask? Me. Strictly because I have this apparently innate ability to see into the pop-cultural future of America, I should be the chosen leader for this new computing revolution. Steve Jobs, move over. Apple may be currently hip in the computing world, but seeing as the name for their next OS X update is called tiger (an undeniably gay and uncool theme), I think it's about time someone else took over and made computing cool again. Again? Hell, it's about time someone made computing cool for the first time.
I propose the uber-new Operating System, "Reptile." It's faster than Windows. More stable and prettier than OS X. Just as "tinkerable" as Linux without a billion dependencies and headaches. It runs on PC, Mac, Sparc, Alpha, Commodore64 ...
The first update for Reptile is "Sidewinder" in which we introduce to the world FLBAM (pronounced "Fuh-Blam" by ultra-cool company insiders, even though the acronym doesn't spell out like that), which stands for Free and Legal Bad Ass Music. Fuck iTunes and it's $0.99 per song price. We get you free tunes that is 100% legal and RIAA litigation-proof! Stick that in your craw and smoke it, metallica!
As CEO of ReptiSys, I promise to provide aforementioned kick-in-the-ass to the computing industry. Bill Gates is a stodgy old geek. Steve Ballmer is the same, as much as he might try to appear hip while he hops around on stage like a raging prostitute on speed trying to hype up some new overpriced undepowered Microsoft product. Steve Jobs attempts to be hip, but come on Steve, the black turtleneck and worn jeans have got to go. In his place I stand as the new hip computing king, ever on the edge of hipness thanks to my future-sight.
It's going to be a glorious month for ReptiSys when we release our first installment of Reptile. Look out for it, and don't forget to buy stock!
(Paid for by the Justin is on Crack Association)
Ask yourself what you can do with all of those really stupid pictures of yourself that you don't want anybody seeing.
Answer it the way Josh Wrisley put it: "Justin, this would make a great Guinness advertisement!"
Without further ado, I present to you my take on what you can do with all of those stupid pictures. Hell maybe Harp Brewing Company will pick me up as their next big thing! Just go over, take a look at the first picture in each ad (there are two ads), and make sure to click on the picture itself for the conclusion to the ad.
HA. Enjoy!
This really isn't an endorsement per se, think of it more along the lines of a Mini-Review. The show was pretty good, I'll give you a snippet of the email I sent to the inimitable BillR describing the show.
Quoth I: "The show was ... hmm. Mixed reviews.
The first two acts, Sixtoo and Blockhead, were boring as hell. Sometimes I'm amazed at who gets DJ gigs.
Bonobo had a very lively/catchy set. Didn't do anything special though. Kid Koala completely stole the show in my opinion. They had a cam trained on the turntables projected on a huge screen behind him, and he did some absolutely
amazing shit like moving the needle on the fly to get precise notes, some crazy scratching...an amazing live DJ. I do find his recorded stuff a little dull, however it's much more interesting to actually see what he's doing in conjunction with the sounds he's making. He even tagteamed with "P. Love" from the earlier Sixtoo act.
Tobin himself had a good set, but Koala is a hard act to follow since Tobin was just spinning. He spun great tracks, really bassy and energetic, but ho hum, just mixing, nothing fancy.
My suggestion: If the "Zentertainment" tour is stopping nearby to you, check it out. It's worth the $20. However, unless you're planning on really chilling and talking with your friends and not really getting into the show, skip the first hour and a half and hop in when Bonobo goes on."
Some days I regret following links that I find interesting. A few days ago I found, via Slashdot, a BBC News article outlining just how disgusting office spaces truly are. If you didn't have enough reason already, I think this one should truly inspire fear and loathing in your heart when you get up to go to that ol' job of yours every morning. A snippet to pique your interest:
"The key offenders are telephones, which harbour up to 25,127 microbes per square inch, keyboards 3,295 and computer mice 1,676.
By contrast, the average toilet seat contains 49 microbes per square inch, the survey showed."
Woah.
I guess I should start eating my lunch off the surface of the office lavatory rather than my desktop.
I get to go check out Amon Tobin on this fine snowy-ass day in Boston. Tobin is one of the finest musicians I have ever heard, and I'm really psyched to check out his live show, along with Bonobo, Kid Koala, and others. w00t! If you're in Boston and want to hear some excellent and original music, check it out.
This weekend, I spent an awful lot of time lying on my bed, staring at my crazy-ass colorful OpenGL screensaver, and listening to Orbital albums for the first time in over a year. Ever since being introduced to them by Shawn Wall, Rich Doty, and Bill Rodgers, Orbital has struck me as the project that defines what "electronica" should be. Perhaps it was the uh ... state of mind ... I was in at the time, but the same tingly awed sensation I felt years ago in college I felt again listening to the packaged genius that is In Sides. I don't know how many of you have tried sitting around on a Friday (oh and Saturday) night doing nothing but relax and listen to music, but I highly recommend it. Don't expect, however, to be perky the rest of the weekend. Perhaps it's time to lay off this "relaxation" nonsense for a little while ...
I'm sure you're thinking "okay hippie, what should electronica be then?" And I say "Duuuude it's all about the mindset man! Can't you feel it flow?" Well hopefully I won't say something that innately ridiculous, but if I ever do, you are free to hunt me down and smack me. No really. In my minute, worthless-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things opinion, electronica should be modern day's reply to classical music. You know, violins, tympani, flutes, etc. etc. Or is that an Orchestra? I know one of them is only string instruments. Shit if only I could remember what Sarah taught me long ago. Regardless, electronica should serve as a reflection pool for a musical form that hasn't really changed all that much since God knows when. Yes, classical has changed. But the basic format is still the same. Same instruments, same conventions.
If you don't agree, give an objective listen to Orbital's In Sides and at the very least, even if you don't like it, you'll see what I'm talking about. Epic songs that have several movements, and so much layering you often can't tell the difference between one instrument and another. If you really listen and isolate, you can hear that single instrument and appreciate how it blends perfectly with the other pieces of the song to create an impressive whole. The way the composers (the Orbital duo goes beyond simple sequencing) manipulate sound envelopes, stereo imaging, and sequences is pretty inspiring. Lay there for ten minutes and listen to "Girl With the Sun in Her Head" and I tell you, it's nearly an emotional experience. Listen to both parts of "The Box" and hopefully you'll see why I rave about this.
Indeed, I do tend to take things very seriously when I am "relaxing," (witness the Battle Royale incident in which I was still awed by the movie a week later), but every time I listen to In Sides and to a lesser degree the earlier tracks of The Middle of Nowhere I get chills. It's why I get all up in arms and frothing when people say "techno" is nothing but beats and some blips and bloops. Yes, awful danceclub tripe like "Sandstorm" (a truly repetitive and shitty dance anthem that has unfortunately become synonymous with "techno" and is what every layperson who knows nothing about "techno" thinks is the definition of anything remotely electronic) is indeed beat-heavy and should burn in techno hell for its lack of originality, but this is the real deal. No, I'm not talking about John Kerry, and yes, I'll probably get busted for using that slogan considering you can copyright just about anything these days.
Do you think I can copyright the word "asshat?" Shawn may have said it first, but whoever gets the copyright owns it!
Regardless, get yourself a copy of In Sides and give it a listen. Unless you like Britney Spears (mindless 90s/00s garbage), Bon Jovi (stuck in the 80s), or Dave Matthews (just plain garbage), you won't be disappointed.
In the continuing spirit of good fun and public humiliation, I've made the decision to post on my website a story of epic proportions - a "sweeping chronicle of days gone by" raves ... that guy in the subway who always asks me for change. This will allow you, my faithful two (2) readers, the distinct pleasure of ridiculing me.
At my house, we have a candle on the stove. It's a pillar candle, it's red, and it smells. Pretty typical candle I'd say, were I forced to hazard a guess. It has safely observed our cooking attempts for weeks since it magically appeared there. Monday evening was no different when I set my water to boiling in preparation for frozen tortellini. You know, the frozen bagged kind. As I am wont to do, I set the water to boiling and left it alone. Typically it takes 20 minutes to boil water on our stove anyway, so I went away and forgot about it. Half an hour later I checked up on it, only to find a writhing mass of flame engulfing my poor pot of boiling water.
My first (and only) flash of intelligence was to turn off the gas on the stove. That said and done, I still had aforementioned writhing mass of flame to contend with. You see, the candle had melted into the depression in the stove where the burner lies, and now had formed a pool of molten, burning wax. Removing the (very) black pot didn't help. My call for help roused Liz and Lisse, who were ... predisposed in the other room, and we proceeded to have a brainstorm about exactly what should be done in a case like this. I distinctly remember Lisse saying "well, it's not a greasefire," but we were a bit hesitant to use water. So what was the next line of action? Being renters in Boston, of course we don't have a fire extinguisher. We couldn't remember if it was flour or baking powder you're supposed to use with kitchen fires. We have a lot more flour than baking powder, so flour was the next step.
All flour does, as I've learned, is burn, make things really disgusting-looking, and splatter the burning wax everywhere. So now we had several mini-fires burning on the stove, a little less flour, and still not much baking powder. Oh and we had a hole melted in the upper section of the stove. But what did we have a lot of? Water! It wasn't the brightest idea a group of twenty-somethings has ever had, but we were running out of options and the fire wasn't really going to be going anywhere anytime soon. Pour some water in carefully from the side, and voila! now we have a boiling mass of flameless, brown, flour-wax mix.
Word to the wise: Don't set your stove on fire. The cleanup just isn't worth it! On the bright side, at least we know we need to get a fire extinguisher.
Certainly been a long time since this section has been updated, it seems. So it's time for a little sumfin sumfin. I don't know if you should expect this endorsement to be particularly exciting, since it's an endorsement for software, but it may be informative to y'all geeks and non-geeks alike. You see, if I'm going to be a geek and readily admit it (can't really deny it anymore), I might as well drag everyone else down with me! Huzzah!
I've been using Mozilla Phoenix/Firebird/FireFox for quite some time, but it hasn't been quite mature enough to unleash for the "unwashed masses." In its newest iteration(v0.8) it was renamed to FireFox (after first being named Phoenix, then being named FireBird) and made faster, more stable, etc. You know, all that marketing stuff that I often have to spew about my own company's software product. Why they renamed it "FireFox" is beyond me. I know the multiple renames were to prevent confusion between other projects in the Open Source community, but why go from Phoenix, which is inherently badass, to Firebird, which is mildly badass but nevertheless invokes thoughts of badly-designed Pontiacs? As if it couldn't get worse, it gets renamed to FireFox, which makes little sense to me at all. It just sounds furry. Why not continue the thread of browser badassedness? I mean, as much as I like moose and all, it really seems to me that FireFox is about as cool and threatening as FireMoose. Then again, the idea of a giant two-ton lumbering flaming moose does instill fear in my loins ...
Naming conventions aside, this is a very slick browser. It's faster than Microsoft Internet Explorer (excepting initial load time), it adheres to more web standards, and it has some pretty badass features. First of all, it's themeable, so if you like pretty colors and icons (in other words, if you bought a Mac because it's pretty), this is for you. It's very extensible, meaning you can download all sorts of very useful and often fun add-ons to add functionality to the base browser. My favorite thus far is the gesture extension, which allows you to browse the web using, for the most part, mouse gestures alone. This way I can go back or forward (and do a host of other things) without ever having to move my lazy-ass hand up to click on the buttons up top. Anything that promotes laziness, in my opinion, is a good thing. That's why I also encourage use of beer, automobiles, and beds. Actually anyone who knows me knows that I don't really encourage automobile use but for moments of extreme or emergency laziness.
I'm promoting this so heavily (if heavily can be used in reference to a website that gets weekly hits in the single digits) because I'm sick of Microsoft owning everything and I really do think that this is a superior product. FireFox encourages the development of free, open-source software, of which I have become quite the proponent of since Ryan finally shamed me into installing SuSE Linux on my computer. The idea that software can be free for use and further development is a great one. It builds a community and makes software stronger. The idea is, the more eyes that see something will strengthen the stability, security, and power of the software. Unfortunately for Janet Jackson that doesn't work for breasts, but hey, she's like 80 billion years old anyway and no one really wants to see her boobs. Well at least I'm glad I wasn't watching at that point. So give FireFox a try, you'll be pleasantly surprised.
Arguably one of the best things about the new Prudential Shaw's is the little sushi counter. Nothing seems like a better idea, when I'm shopping hungry at this amazing temple of fooditude, than to pick up a platter of 9 fat sushi pieces for 5 bucks. Yes, you read correctly, $4.95. You'd probably pay a good $8.00 at a sushi restaurant. So the sushi isn't the most amazing-tasting, nor the best quality, but you really can't beat a belly-filling sushi dish for 5 bucks.
I am no sushi connoisseur. Yes, I did go to Japan (Don't believe me? Check out the pics, weenie), yes I do crave sushi on a daily basis. But by no means does that make me any sort of expert. After all, I buy the stuff from Shaw's, where Salmon steaks cost $4.99/lb. as opposed to $15.99/lb at the quality fish place. I think it's pretty much an accepted Boston "thing" that if you buy seafood at Shaw's (or Star Market), don't plan on making it a gourmet dinner. That's when you go to Whole Foods and sell your (hopefully organic, cuz they demand a much higher premium) kidneys to afford enough high-quality seafood to feed yourself and maybe your date. Or you could let her go hungry. All I know is, you sushi snobs can stick it. A gob of sticky rice might now be sticking to an important inter-office document of mine, but it was worth it.
I suppose until recently (read: today), I was considered a sushi snob (though definitely not an expert) by many of my acquaintances. But today, it just feels right to root for the underdog. After all, I did buy a 3 liter bottle of Cola during the same trip for $0.99. Being that I am dirt poor and need to pay upwards of 2 grand to secure the apartment I already live in, saving money on sushi doesn't seem like so bad an idea. Maybe when I can afford to eat sushi again at real restaurants, I shall return to aforementioned snobbery. And it'll be cool because everyone likes to be a snob about something once in a while. It makes you feel ... important ... hoity-toity...
I'm not quite up to speed for full endorsment writeups yet, but soon enough...My stomach is also protesting profusely. It couldn't have been the 5 dolla sushi! Must've been the Gatorade...
A friend of mine sent me this link to what I think is one of the most amazing things to ever grace my computer screen. Now I know that I often claim that this is the end-all proof that Japan is the weirdest place on earth, but I think this one outdoes all of my previous claims. Of course, next month I'll have an equally ridiculous link to show you. But here it is: Tricked out Trash Trucks. At first when I saw this, I didn't know what to say. My first thought (as seems to be customary these day) was "Man is Japan f'd up" followed in quick succession by "man is Japan cool." You've all heard of "ricing out" one's car. The term ricing comes from "rice burners" which is a wonderful mild racial slur made by pro-american car owners who love to have their crappy rustheaps fall apart beneath them while feeling prideful that they bought that "American Made" crapheap in the first place. So when you rice out your car, what you do is put some huge-ass tailpipe on the back of your
Honda Civic (ubiquitous trick-out car), put some silly-looking taillights on it, and paint it some ridiculous color. And don't forget giant decals and all sorts of tinting. And huge sound. We're talking sound that kills sperm cells (this is true). You know that movie The Fast and the Furious? Well that's all about ricing.
But I digress. As you can see by following the above link, some geniuses have taken things to the next level. Work trucks that kick ass. I seriously have no idea what purpose most of these trucks are supposed to serve, but what little maleness left in me that hasn't been snuffed out by living with 3 females for a year is very much drawn to all that chrome and ... stuff. I mean, these things look like moving arcades. They probably are moving arcades, judging by the propensity of "joy palaces" (no, not like what you found during your vacation in Rio, you perv) in Japan. Speaking of Japanese arcades, I am reminded of a time during which some 8 year old Japanese boy schooled my ass at Dance Dance Revolution after I had shoveled about 10 trillion Yen into the machine just to lose in literally 10 seconds. What can I say, I suck. But the satisfied smirk on that little bastard's face was enough to crush my male video game competition ego for life.
But I digress. Again. I think about the days (see below) driving in Boston stuck behind one of the garbage trucks that always seem to be out when I have all my windows open. So I'm stuck behind this stinking mobile heap of garbage thinking (while continually gagging) "wouldn't it be so cool if these things looked a lot cooler?" So I don't really think that, but it provides for good continuity in this piece. However, it's very obvious that some Japanese guy thought the same thing and actually did something about it. Wouldn't you be positively thrilled if one of these chrome airbrushed behemoths drove up to pick up your trash? It's like a limosine for your garbage! Hell yeah!
Of course you have to wonder about the safety implications of these things. Something that stunning is simply guaranteed to repeatedly cause accidents. With the striking prevalence of platform-shoe caused accidents in Japan, I have no doubt that some poor Japanese teenage girl could get blinded by the brilliance of these moving machines of insanity, get her platform shoe somehow lodged in the gas pedal, and the next thing we see is news footage. Note, this really does happen (minus the truck).
Now if only one of these things would sweep my street. Japan sure is cool...
I came across this lovely article today by The Steel Alliance which I imagine is some pro-steel agency based in Pittsburgh. After all, anything pro-steel seems to be in Pittsburgh these days. Anyway, take a look at the article. Boston drivers earn a classic F grade for rudeness and safety! Go Boston! Get this quote: "While Boston sometimes trails behind New York City in the baseball standings, Boston drivers have the dubious pleasure of beating out New York City drivers as more dangerous on the road."
Isn't that something to be proud of? Our baseball team may consistently choke up and let New York beat it every year since the beginning of baseball, aint' no way we're letting those simps outdrive us!
I'm sure if you've spent any time driving in and around Boston, you'll realize that this article is dead on. And you know what? I kind of like it that way. You have to be aggressive to survive in this town. Try to be polite and you'll get honked at by 800 people who suddenly converge on the scene of the crime. Try to get out of a sidestreet onto a main thorougfare without blocking traffic? Forget it. I will admit, however, that I hate that trick and will honk and scream at anyone trying to pull it off. No one disrupts my lane without a really good reason (flaming wrecks, parades, and throngs of people willing to give me money come to mind)! You gotta think and act fast here, and I do think you're better off for it in the long run. You get places faster! You go to places like rural Pennsylvania or Rochester, NY, and no one knows what hit 'em. They're all sitting there wondering what the hell happened and you're already halfway to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts.
The best line in this article by far, however, is "45 percent of drivers said they committed at least four aggressive driving acts in the month prior to being surveyed." Huh?
Four? That's it?
Four just seems...I don't know...absurdly low. I'd imagine the average
Boston driver commits at least four aggressive driving acts in an hour much less a month. Apparently in Pittsburgh, everyone drives around with bouquets of little flowers to hand to each other as they float through the streets on pink and blue clouds. I can't think of the last time I had a non-aggressive drive. And you know what? It feels kinda good. Now some of you may start to make your little sounds and mumble something about "Alpha male testosterone behavior," but I kid you not, aggression is simply a part of driving here. You are very much entitled to drive like a pansy, but I'd definitely suggest doing it in another city. Here you'll end up getting run off the road by some maniac who is far more aggressive than I ever will be. Have you ever heard about the term "defensive driving?" Well, that's all we're doing here! Some evil bastard, probably 20 or so years ago, decided he was going to be a total jerk driver. People started to react defensively, and that started this amazing snowball effect which eventually led to everyone in Boston hating each other behind the wheel. This would make an amazing sociological study. Any takers?
I have been waiting for May 15 ever since I found out that the original Matrix movie was scheduled to have a sequel. Of course, at that point, I had no idea what the date was But that's irrelevant. What is relevant is that you get your ass down to your local high-quality movie theatre (you need good seating and sound for this puppy) and shell out the ten bucks. So worth it.
First of all, the bad news. Like all of the frou-frou high-class reviewers, I do have to say the story and the characters fall a bit short.
Plot: 3 of 5 stars.
Character Development: 2 of 5 stars. Not 1 simply because they attempted a little development...
But my opinion is as follows: If you went to any Matrix movie expecting Citizen Kane, you are guaranteed to be disappointed.
And the good news. This is the action movie to destroy all previous action movies.
Action: f'n 10 out of 5 stars. This will change your perceptions of what an action movie should be.
While at times you wonder "is this that much different than the first Matrix?" you still come away absolutely awed by the effects engineering they put into it. If you have a good eye, you can catch some obvious Computer Generated (CG) effects, but most people won't notice it at all. This is a summer flick, tried and true. I have absolutely no desire to see any other action flick this summer, because I'm sure I'll be disappointed. Terminator 3? Bah. The choreography was excellent (if a direct ripoff from any Hong Kong Kung Fu movie ever made), the effects mind blowing, and there's a quasi-French guy so says "it's like wiping your ass with silk." This is a cinematic achievement, people! I'm sure Bill would say he was unimpressed, but I don't think he has an impressable bone in his body...
I'm on a roll today. What can I say. And it has me hankerin' for a big Tuna sandwich. On a roll. I only realized the power of the tuna can at a late time in my life - Whilst attempting mightily to become a meathead, I was informed by my friend Earl (that is indeed his name) that Tuna was the best way to get protein without fat. And cheap too! Seeing as I am again attempting mightily to become a meathead, lady tuna has entered back into my life after a long hiatus.
First, the technicalities. In a single can of shredded or "chunk light" tuna packed in water (not oil!), you get 25 grams of protein and 5% fat. A pretty good ratio, if I have to say so. If you're willing to eat straight out of the can, you'll get exactly that. Of course, most people have to add a generous (and powerfully vile) dallop of Mayonnaise to make it taste a little less fishy. So
then your fat intake goes through the roof. Incidentally, once you start eating this stuff as heavily as I do, the level of Mercury in your blood might rise precipitously. Don't be alarmed, Mercury adds character.
Second, the fun. Just the other day I bought what is officially recognized by the Association of Standard Weights and Measures as a "buttload" of tuna. I love it. When I'm not eating a turkey sandwich (of which I also bought a "buttload"), I'm eating a tuna sandwich. Let me tell you, it drives the ladies wild. Kristin, my office-mate, just loves it! Every time I bring in a sandwich, she says something to the effect of "Oh God that stinks." Think of it as a great tool for negotiation. All you have to do is start eating tuna at the office, take it over to your favorite cube-gopher, and start chowing down while you're talking. This, my loyal reader(s?), is what we call sweet, sweet revenge. The best part is, all the while you know you're being relatively healthy. Just don't spill it on yourself (as I am often wont to do) or your plan will completely backfire. Because at that point, you are the only one stinking, and you have to smell it all day. At least that way, no one will sit next to you on the train...or anywhere else for that matter.
So next time you're down at the heinously overpriced supermarket, pick up some cans. Note that they are canned in such a way that the cans can be stacked perfectly. Brilliant! If you manage to shop like my grandfather (or Ryan, or Janet) and only buy at "bargain" prices, you can pick up several dozen cans for like...a nickel.
What's in your cabinet?
I'm on a roll today. What can I say. And it has me hankerin' for a big Tuna sandwich. On a roll. I only realized the power of the tuna can at a late time in my life - Whilst attempting mightily to become a meathead, I was informed by my friend Earl (that is indeed his name) that Tuna was the best way to get protein without fat. And cheap too! Seeing as I am again attempting mightily to become a meathead, lady tuna has entered back into my life after a long hiatus.
First, the technicalities. In a single can of shredded or "chunk light" tuna packed in water (not oil!), you get 25 grams of protein and 5% fat. A pretty good ratio, if I have to say so. If you're willing to eat straight out of the can, you'll get exactly that. Of course, most people have to add a generous (and powerfully vile) dallop of Mayonnaise to make it taste a little less fishy. So
then your fat intake goes through the roof. Incidentally, once you start eating this stuff as heavily as I do, the level of Mercury in your blood might rise precipitously. Don't be alarmed, Mercury adds character.
Second, the fun. Just the other day I bought what is officially recognized by the Association of Standard Weights and Measures as a "buttload" of tuna. I love it. When I'm not eating a turkey sandwich (of which I also bought a "buttload"), I'm eating a tuna sandwich. Let me tell you, it drives the ladies wild. Kristin, my office-mate, just loves it! Every time I bring in a sandwich, she says something to the effect of "Oh God that stinks." Think of it as a great tool for negotiation. All you have to do is start eating tuna at the office, take it over to your favorite cube-gopher, and start chowing down while you're talking. This, my loyal reader(s?), is what we call sweet, sweet revenge. The best part is, all the while you know you're being relatively healthy. Just don't spill it on yourself (as I am often wont to do) or your plan will completely backfire. Because at that point, you are the only one stinking, and you have to smell it all day. At least that way, no one will sit next to you on the train...or anywhere else for that matter.
So next time you're down at the heinously overpriced supermarket, pick up some cans. Note that they are canned in such a way that the cans can be stacked perfectly. Brilliant! If you manage to shop like my grandfather (or Ryan, or Janet) and only buy at "bargain" prices, you can pick up several dozen cans for like...a nickel.
What's in your cabinet?
In my opinion, the undisputed king of spoof comedy has to be
Mel Brooks. The fact that he can change one of his oldest movies into a hit musical on broadway shows some sort of genius. Don't ask me what kind. While his later movies like "Dracula: Dead and Loving it" may not have been comedic goldmines like some some earlier films, the earlier films were ... uh ... comedic goldmines. Enter Spaceballs. Now, you may be thinking I'm a complete dork. You probably thought that before even getting to this "review." However, at least I didn't transcribe the entire script of the movie like someone ended up doing. This movie is the best thing that ever happened to science fiction movies. All of the "classics" are there. Alien(s), Star Wars, Star Trek...anything you can possibly make fun of about these movies is there. I never thought you could make fun of Alien(s), but Brooks shows that you can. Don't even ask what you could make fun of about Star Trek/Wars. If you've seen the new movies of either franchise, you realize just how much there is to make fun of.
Combine the humor of classic lines like "F*CK, even in the future nothing works!" with the fact that Spaceballs was the very apex of Rick Moranis' far too long-lived acting career, and you really can't go wrong. Spaceballs, of course, had to be the first DVD I owned. I guess that makes me a total dork. Regardless, if for some disgusting reason you haven't yet treated yourself to a viewing or two of this movie, it comes highly recommended by me. You are denying yourself a fulfilling existence if you haven't seen it. Then again, maybe you're a frou-frou French/Indie film type like Melania. Then you will think this movie sucks. Then again, you might also think that "Swept Away" (not the new Madonna-ruins-her-career version) was a great film. And that movie, contrary to the belief of anyone who is insane enough to praise it, totally sucked. Congratulations, Mel, you made space a better place.