The Top 20 Records of 2005, According to Me

I have a little theory that I'd like to let you in on: music geekery is a genetic abnormality. And how, you ask, do I purport to support such a lofty claim? The answer is simple: all pop music nerds display similar characteristics, foremost among them being a compulsive need to validate their opinions through the compilation of lists. Well, this is the first year in quite some time that I've found myself not writing for one publication or another at year's end, so I am turning to you, loyal reader, in my time of need. Won't you bolster my sense of self-worth by quickly skimming over the list below and feigning interest? Just think of how much I've given you while asking so little in return. Alternately, feel free to consider this list either a late Christmas present or an early shogatsu gift, your choice.

All albums are classified as 2005 releases based on their US release dates with the exception of the following: Tokumaru Shugo's L.S.T. (which, in all likelihood, will not see an American release) and Regina Spektor's Soviet Kitsch (whose release and re-release history is so confusing, I've simply decided to include it here, rather than shaft a fine record). Considering that I made such a controversial choice for my #1, I probably should have done that thing where the list goes backwards and counts down from 20. Well, there's always next year, I suppose.

1. Bright Eyes - I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning

Growing up is hard enough as it is but poor Conor Oberst did it with the tape running. It’s all there-the melodramatic excess of adolescence, the search for identity (six-strings or synths?), even the awkward squeaks of puberty. While it was precisely these qualities that some (including myself) found intriguing, the very same traits understandably placed Oberst at odds with many serious music fans. It is the latter category to whom I now speak: take note, our little Conor’s all grown-up. I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning is a record of such incredible restraint and focus, it practically dares you not to like it. Oberst wastes no time in knocking out ten straight-up folk-country numbers, already well-worn from years of touring. No smoke and mirrors (or fevers) this time around, just the voice of one of the most promising American songwriters of his generation (there, I said it). It’s true though, Oberst demonstrates that he’s graduated from emo self-awareness into the realm of real songwriting by marrying his bountiful emotion to context. To that end, I’m Wide Awake is a period piece through and through; deftly interweaving the personal and the political into a cohesive portrait of modern life. Plain and simple, this record is more than Oberst’s definitive statement; it’s a legitimate masterpiece of folk-country songwriting.

2. M.I.A. – Arular

I was recently at a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Hachinohe when “Galang” came on over the loudspeakers. As I nodded my head in agreement I thought about what a shame it was that I was the only one present who noticed the irony of M.I.A’s bouncy third-world strife juxtaposed with the crunchy taste of cultural imperialism. Even if they could understand the lyrics, would the lunch crowd have realized that the “shotgun” isn’t metaphorical? Did the suits at the corporate office mistake “get down” for an imperative to dance? This is the beauty of Arular, its grimy beats and tinkering electronics brilliantly candy coat what is essentially a politically, socially and sexually subversive record. Who else could flaunt ties to terrorist organizations while simultaneously selling songs to car companies? Arular is just too catchy, danceable and downright fun to ever be spotted for the Trojan horse it really is. Would you like a biscuit with that?

3.Sufjan Stevens - Illinois

Don’t get me wrong: I loved the songs on last year’s Michigan as much as the next guy. But as much as I may have respected that record for the feat of craftsmanship that it is, its massive scope and excessive runtime made actually listening to it seem like a chore. So it was with a fair amount of trepidation that I approached Illinois, an ode to my adopted home state that boasts an even longer runtime and even larger scale. But you know what? This record is just so damn good that I was riveted from the first listen. Taken separately, these 22 tracks run the gamut from sparse intimacy to orchestral sweep, from delicate odes to haunting confessionals. But together they provide a portrait of Midwestern American life that packs more personality than you’ll ever find in any tourist board brochure. Not only has Stevens become a more evocative storyteller, he’s also managed to one-up the musicianship on Michigan; the songs on Illinois explode with the bombast of a marching band yet still manage to feel personal. As far as I’m concerned, the next 48 can’t come soon enough.

4. Andrew Bird - Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs

It’s unfortunate but The Mysterious Production of Eggs is precisely the type of record that’s bound to be overlooked come time for year-end lists. It wasn’t accompanied by years of press grooming like Bright Eyes or deafening grassroots hype like M.I.A. Mr. Bird didn’t make the O.C. like Sufjan and Rolling Stone will likely never give him the time of day. But this is just as well for The Mysterious Production of Eggs, a record that’s as understated and quietly unassuming as it is flawless. Armed with a violin, guitar, some bells and his trademark whistle, Bird crafts an album of intelligent folk-pop that easily surpasses all expectations. Catchy, complex, light-hearted and literate, The Mysterious Production of Eggs is the type of record I couldn’t forget even if I tried.

5. Bloc Party – Silent Alarm/Silent Alarm Remixed

I guess I should probably hate this band, huh? All trendy outfits and British press hype, their hair carefully disheveled for the video by a team of stylists and their boots freshly polished by the collective tongue of the NME. If only they hadn’t somehow managed to debut with not one but two absolutely perfect records in the space of a year. Silent Alarm is a fucking spotless record, post-punk that’s as clean as it is calculated and all the better for it. These guys operate with the accuracy of surgeons, dropping perfectly timed hooks at every opportunity and trading-off riffs like baseball cards. The record’s real strength, however, lies in its consistency; while the tempos may vary, the catchiness of the tracks does not. And to top it all off, they put out an equally faultless remix record that only proves what we knew all along: Silent Alarm is a totally danceable record. Put on your dancing shoes and grab your metronome, we’re stepping out.

6. Regina Spektor - Soviet Kitsch

When it comes to pop music, the breakup record is truly an archetypical form. But I’ve never heard one quite like this before. Like all great breakup records, Soviet Kitsch is permeated by a sense of loss and desperation-but that’s a given. What sets it apart is that Spektor manages to be fun, irreverent and even downright silly without detracting a bit from the record’s heavy thematics. If anything, her flippancy only makes her that much more convincing. If I told you that the most depressing song I heard all year opened with the lines “I had a dream/crispy, crispy Benjamin Franklin came over/and babysat all four of my kids” would you believe me?


7. Patrick Wolf – The Wind in the Wires

Shockingly young, broodingly photogenic and surprisingly prolific with a flair for mixing electronics with traditional folk instrumentation-but wait, isn’t Conor Oberst already on this list? All joking aside, this Wolf is a different animal altogether (okay, maybe not all joking); he’s clearly far more skilled in composition than Oberst and is equally adept at stirring up theatrics whether armed with a mandolin or a sequencer. And then there’s his voice, rich beyond his 21 years and reminiscent of the best crooners of 80s British pop. The Wind in the Wires is a huge step forward from the hodgepodge that was last year’s Lycanthropy, proving that Wolf is more than capable of a statement that’s unified both musically and thematically.

8. Kanye West - Late Registration

How do you follow up something like last year’s breakthrough hit The College Dropout? Kanye cooked up an answer: producing a record with Jon Brion that showcases more varied production and instrumentation alongside the camera-ready persona we know and love. That’s right, Kanye’s back with all his contradictions in tow-is he going to jock the plight of mine workers in Sierra Leone while flossing those diamonds? You’d better believe it. Is he really going to feature Nas and a member of Maroon 5 on the same record? Of course. And is he gonna ride to the top of the charts in a sweater vest and designer sunglasses? Just try and stop him. Sure, Late Registration looks unfocused next to Dropout and falls far short of delivering last year’s unstoppable string of singles. But consider the flip side: it’s a much more consistent affair, inviting the listener to curb the urge to skip straight to the jams. Above all, Kanye’s success continues to breathe more creativity and innovation into mainstream hip-pop than anyone else in recent memory. He may be a dropout but he’s deftly made it past the sophomore slump.

9. Annie – Anniemal

Indie music nerds have long had a mercurial relationship with so called “Pop” music. While we’ve spent years investing in hybrid terms like “electro-pop” and “indie-pop” in order to distance ourselves from the Billboard chart, we’re all too happy to worship at the alter of chart-toppers from decades past. And now, all of a sudden, hipsters are embracing even contemporary mainstream pop, if only to prove that they’re not as elitist as all that. So it appears that Annie has arrived right on time; as infectious as anything on the radio and twice as complex, Anniemal proves that sugary-sweet bubblegum and innovation aren’t such strange bedfellows after all. While this record may not be the postmodern savior that will bridge the gap between the dance floor and the record store, it’s certainly a step in that direction. When I played Anniemal for my friend Ryan, he remarked that he was already sick of it from hearing “Chewing Gum” being played non-stop at every club in Finland. We should all be so lucky.

10. Okkervil River - Black Sheep Boy

A few years ago, Okkervil River were well on track to joining the ranks of competent alt-country bands. But somewhere along the way, two roads diverged and the River emerged from the yellow wood a Black Sheep Boy. While sometimes reminiscent of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea’s character-based song cycle as concept aesthetic, Black Sheep Boy finds the Austin five-piece exhibiting a style uniquely their own. Somewhere between the rollicking guitars, bleating organs and Will Sheff’s yelps is a series of lovingly crafted, allegorical tales. It’s finding them that’s all the fun.

11. Common – Be

Chicago MC Common had some lean years there but who knew he had a comeback like this in him? Credit is due to Kanye, for reinvigorating the respected MC after 2002’s disastrous Electric Circus with tracks that allow Common Sense’s inimitable flow to shine. Lead single “The Corner” is a strong contender for hip-hop single of the year, extracting so much energy out of a chopped-up vocal sample that it bounces off of alley walls as Common cruises the streets of Chicago, building a lyrical shrine to street culture. Between Kanye, Common and the Sox, 2005 may well have been the year that the south side finally got to shine.

12. Antony and the Johnsons – I Am A Bird Now

I’m going to have to ask all of you to suspend your cynicism for just a minute. Of course, you could send I Am A Bird Now off for analysis, in order to determine the precise ratio of style to substance. Sure, you could point out that the ghosts of the New York cabaret scene and the specter of AIDS take up more space in the press than 6-foot tall Antony himself. But you would be completely missing the point. Just listen to the damn thing. What do you hear? A record of genuine sadness, graceful desperation and above all, beauty. And he wraps it all up in that voice of his: the only instrument rich and deep enough to give these songs their due.

13. The Decemberists – Picaresque

Hi, is this the Decemberists? Hey, I’m really glad I was able to inexplicably get all of you on the phone simultaneously like this. Now, as you know, we’ve had our differences in the past. Maybe it was the annoyingly enthusiastic fan base? Or the over the top, theatrical shtick? You know, it was probably just the constant critical comparisons to the likes of Neutral Milk Hotel. At any rate, I was pretty determined to hate you guys regardless of your musical output. I even went as far as to leave Intonation early so I wouldn’t have to see you. Well, the reason I’m calling today is to say that I just can’t keep up the façade anymore. I accidentally ended up listening to Picaresque this year and it was just too damn good to hate. Eleven self-encapsulated narratives that somehow come together to form a thematic whole? I know, how could I resist, right? And those call and response vocals from beyond the grave on “The Mariner’s Revenge Song”? Yeah, that shit was tight! Well, before I go, I really need to ask you guys a favor. Now that you’ve signed with Capitol and all, do you think you could make a really crappy record? Yeah, I just don’t want to risk having to like you guys at the expense of being cool. Thanks, I knew you’d understand. Take it easy, guys.

14. Spoon – Gimme Fiction

Do you remember that kid in college who acted like he was all laid-back and didn’t really care about school but somehow managed to squeeze onto the dean’s list every year? Yeah, I hated that guy too. But I can’t hate Spoon because I’m beginning to suspect that it’s not an act. They just keep getting better and better while maintaining their characteristic cool. Making records this tight can’t really be effortless-can it? Whether aping Prince on the deliciously funky “I Turn my Camera On” or greeting earnestness with a smirk on “I Summon You,” they really do make it seem that way. Not that I care, or anything.

15. The Fiery Furnaces – EP

If the laws of theoretical physics hold true, there is an alternate dimension out there somewhere where rock albums are evaluated solely based on their narrative ability. In this dimension, Colin Meloy is a multi-millionaire, Jeff Mangum is a household name and the Furnaces’ Rehearsing My Choir Tops every critic’s year-end list. But let’s get back to reality. What possibly could have possessed the authors of last year’s best record to birth a musical beast like Choir? In the spirit of the Furnaces, I’ve decided to present my theory to you in the form of a short one-act:

Setting: the critical playground
Bully #1: Hey, Friedbergers! That was a nice concept record you two put out last year! What are you gonna do next, make a record with your Grandma? Huh?
*A light bulb illuminates above Eleanor’s head as Matt is unsuspectingly pantsed from behind*

Choir was a huge risk, so it’s a good thing that they had a solid insurance policy in the form of January’s single-compiling, inaccurately named EP. In 10 tracks of robot Broadway bliss, they answer the question that was on everyone’s lips last year: what would happen if these jokers actually sat down and wrote pop songs? The Fiery Furnaces may have spent the rest 2005 butchering the Beatles and penning the year’s most difficult record but you’ve got to respect their determination to keep pushing the envelope.

16. Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine (Jon Brion Version)

Fiona Apple is not your average pop songstress. Unlike so many of her contemporaries, she’s passionate, earnest and creative in all of the best ways. Which is why it’s a blessing that these songs found their way to Jon Brion. As he demonstrated just as ably on Late Registration, his strength lies in his ability to expand an artist’s breadth without compromising their vision. The result is that Fiona gets room to breathe, producing songs like the almost spoken-word title track; weird, expansive and delightful. This year’s best record that never was.

17. Wolf Parade – Apologies to the Queen Mary

I know, don’t believe the hype, right? But with such an incredible series of self-released EPs, very few were able to resist buying into the myth of Wolf Parade as the next big thing. So how was it that Apologies to the Queen Mary became one of the most divisive records of the year? If you ask me, Issac Brock took a band whose appeal was in their rough edges and cleaned up and polished them until there was no appeal left. I know I’m not the only one who refused to listen to this record for weeks out of sheer disappointment. But eventually, it started creeping it’s way into my playlist. And you know what? These songs are just too good to be ruined by any production. Eventually I came to realize that even if there was something exciting about the immediacy of the EPs, many of these songs deserve to be fully realized like they are on Queen Mary. I’m hedging my bets that this won’t be the definitive statement from Wolf Parade. But until then, it’s a damn fine placeholder.

18. Silver Jews – Tanglewood Numbers

David Berman hit rock bottom and he’s not trying to hide it. Case in point: he opens up Tanglewood Numbers by asking “Where’s the paper bag that holds the liquor/just in case I feel the need to puke”. Still, there’s redemption to be found here as well, whether in Berman’s oddball humor or in the dialogue with his wife (and songwriting partner) Cassie. Rounding out the package is some terrific musicianship, including that of Stephen Malkmus, whose fretwork gives Berman’s alt-country leanings a real shot in the arm (notice my restraint in not making the obvious, distasteful joke). The result is the liveliest and fullest-sounding arrangements of the Jews' career, overlaid with Berman's most personal songs yet.

19. M. Ward - Transistor Radio

Matt Ward has always struck me as a shy fellow. Baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, he’s always made the kind of records that seem to intentionally draw attention away from his incredible finger-style skill. So it’s nice to see him finally coming out of his shell. After showing off his chops with an instrumental cover of the Beach Boys’ “You Still Believe in Me,” Ward opens the record proper with the mission statement “One Life Away”. Trapped under a sea of transistor fuzz, Ward and My Morning Jacket’s Jim James beckon the listener to join them on a journey to a bygone era where fräulein is still a term of endearment and families crowd around the radio. The concept holds up surprisingly well, if only because Ward’s songs have a way of sounding genuinely timeless. It may be one of the best records of 2005 but it sure as hell doesn’t sound like it.

20. Broken Social Scene – S/T

The densest naturally occurring substance on earth is iridium, with a density of roughly 22650 kg per cubic meter. While I may not have the means to actually measure the sonic density of Broken Social Scene, I’m willing to bet that it’s in the same neighborhood. While 2002’s You Forgot It In People sounded surprisingly lean and tight for being produced by such a large collective, Broken Social Scene makes this band sound even larger than it really is, which is a feat in itself. The real hero of this record may well be David Newfeld, whose production teeters precariously on the edge of chaos without ever falling in. In the grand tradition of the obsessed-over studio masterpiece, Broken Social Scene proves that sometimes, more is indeed better.

The Next Ten:

21. Broadcast – Tender Buttons
22. Richard Swift – The Novelist/Walking Without Effort
23. The Mountain Goats – The Sunset Tree
24. Tokumaru Shugo – L.S.T.
25. Jens Lekman – Oh, You’re So Silent Jens
26. Sigur Ros - Takk
27. Yann Tiersen and Shannon Wright - S/T
28. Ryan Adams and the Cardinals – Cold Roses
29. Iron and Wine – Woman King EP
30. Meneguar – I Was Born At Night

Well folks, that's all she wrote. I'm going on vacation as of tomorrow, so don't expect any updates until sometime in mid-January. Until then, have a safe and happy new year's and all of that. See you next year.

So This Is The New Year

How do you usually ring in the new year? You probably get roaringly drunk on champagne and end up trying to kiss a potted plant at the stroke of midnight. Perhaps you stay home and watch old Dick Clark on the TV. Maybe you even make a resolution to stop trying to kiss so many potted plants. Well, my alcoholic, plant-loving friend, here in Japan we do things a little differently.

One of the most common ways of ringing-in the new year, or shogatsu (literally "new month"), is mochitsuki (餅つき); the traditional making of mochi (sticky rice cakes). The tradition dates back to ancient times and is apparently seen as a means of reflecting on the self and the blessings of the Gods at the end of a year.

These days, most Japanese do not make their own mochi and simply buy kagami mochi (lit. "mirror mochi") to eat during the new year. For this reason, mochi has become something of a seasonal industry, with many companies competing to produce more ornate and elaborate kagami mochi gift sets. These sets are available in many different styles: everything from traditional ornamentation to plastic hello kitties adorn the containers that hold the mochi. Below you'll see one of many mochi displays at Jusco. From what I've seen, mochi sets normally range from about $3 to $30 USD.

Well, we were all sitting around in the office last week when Baba-San realized I had probably never participated in mochitsuki. Right she was. Well, since most schools perform mochitsuki at the end of the year, she immediately set to calling all of my schools to find out if I could participate. Unfortunately, all four schools had already had their mochitsuki celebrations, since school let out this week for winter break. Luckily, Baba-San thought to call the local day-care center, who were more than happy to have me join in their mochitsuki provided that I agreed to teach a simple English lesson while there. So this morning, Okubo-San and I set out for the snowy outskirts of Momoishi to track down the day-care center.
Mochi begins its life as ordinary rice. Well, I'm told that it's a special kind of rice and it is left to soak overnight before it's steamed. But it looks just like plain old rice to me. The rice is first dumped into a huge mortar (usu) in preparation for the mochi making.
The rice is then pounded with a comically-oversized mallet (kine), folded over, wet (to avoid sticking to the mallet) and then pounded again. Fun fact: you know how we see a "man in the moon"? Well, the Japanese see a rabbit pounding mochi instead.

At the day-care, the teachers and I did all of the real pounding ("It's all in the hips," I was advised by one teacher) and afterwards the kids were allowed to take a crack at it with a smaller mallet, mainly so that the teachers could take photos of them being cute.
After the rice had been sufficiently pound into a sticky paste, it was kneaded and rolled flat.
Then, it was cut into small squares.
These small squares were then handed out to the children, who further kneaded and stretched them out.
The teachers had pre-prepared small balls of sweetened red-bean paste for mochi filling and after the kids had sufficiently stretched out their square, they were each given a ball of the paste.

Finally, with the paste in the middle of the mochi, the ball was rolled until it took the form of a sphere and was then ready to eat. While I used to buy ice-cream mochi quite frequently in Chicago, I've developed something of a distaste for mochi since coming to Japan. This is most likely due to the fact that I get various types of mochi given to me as omiyage quite frequently and all of them are disgusting. So I was surprised to find that the handmade red-bean paste mochi ball was actually quite good.

After the mochitsuki was done, the teachers invited me to stay and eat lunch with the six year-olds. In the spirit of mochi making, lunch featured two types of mochi in addition to a soup, vegetables and a clementine. One type of mochi was covered in sweet green stuff and the other had some sort of liquified seaweed on the top. This was more like the mochi that I was used to, which meant that I had to fight my gag reflex and choke it down while listening to one of the teachers tell me about how much he likes baseball.

Domo! Haado Gei Desu!

I know that it's a bit late for Christmas presents but if anyone had a full-body Hard Gay costume on their list (Leo, I'm looking in your direction), I just might be able to schedule a special delivery from Santa-San...

Santa Claus is Taller and Far More Tan Than Traditional Representations Have Led Us to Believe

A while ago, I was asked by someone in the office next door if I would help out with a Momoishi Children's Christmas party. Figuring that I would probably have nothing better to do on Christmas Eve, I agreed. I had almost forgotten about it when the same woman showed up at my desk on Thursday with a detailed schedule of events. As it turns out, the party was going to involve a few hundred children and I was expected to come up with almost an hour's worth of activities for the entire group to participate in at once. Not exactly what I had bargained for.

I showed up bright and early on Saturday morning to help set up the hall and was immediately charged with blowing up balloons. Myself and two others spent what seemed like an hour blowing up hundreds of balloons using a compressed air pump. Luckily for us, there was no activity planned for the children between the time they arrived and the beginning of the party, so most of them spent that time popping as many ballons as they could.

Once all the kids had arrived, they were split into groups to prepare various materials for the party. The fourth through sixth graders, being fairly capable, were sent off with some Philipino women to help prepare Philipino noodles. Why Philipino food on Christmas? Your guess is as good as mine.

On the other end of the spectrum were the first graders, whose primary skills (as near as I can tell) are getting really excited and stomping on my feet. They were given the exhilarating task of taping what balloons remained to a white banner.

The second graders were instructed on how to make flowers out of sheets of tissue paper and then taped those flowers to a Christmas banner. I must say, the end result was quite impressive.



The third graders were split into two groups based on their gender, one of which I was in charge of. Our task was to make a christmas tree out of only green balloons, some blue construction paper and tape. The girl's group quickly set to work, blowing up balloons and creating the base of their structure.
Unfortunately, the boy's group (of which I was in charge) was much more interested in popping the balloons that I had managed to inflate and generally standing around. Later, when they discovered the double-sided tape, they thought it would be really hilarious to tear off little squares and stick them all over me.
The final product of the girls' collective labor, while not a perfect Christmas tree by any means, was an impressive structure in its own right.
Whereas, ours was more informed by abstract impressionism.

With all of the decorating done, it was time for a well-earned lunch break. The Christmas menu consisted of Philipino noodles, a sushi roll, the requisite fried chicken (though, shockingly, not from KFC), a slice of pizza and a Christmas cake from Mr. Donut. At first, I was really excited at the prospect of eating free pizza. That is, until I discovered that they had only ordered one variety: ketchup, cabbage and scrambed egg pizza with a coctail sausage on top of each slice. I really wanted to get a photo of this horrible abomination but by the time I had taken out my camera, there was none left.

After lunch, some people got on stage and told some "Christmas stories," although to me they sounded suspiciously like Japanese new year's myths. The children were not very entertained by this and a few even attempted to escape before they were rounded up and herded back, lest they miss out on all the fun.
While boring old-people stories are a tough act to follow, I mustered up my courage and took the stage as the last presenter. Having not been given adequate time to prepare anything appropriate, I decided to warm things up with that Christmastime staple: "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes". While most JETs who teach younger kids have probably played this game a million times before, I guarantee that you haven't really played it until you've done so in a gymnasium with a few hundred screaming kids. Afterwards, I decided to bust out a special Christmas edition of the old maru/batsu ("true or false") game. I asked Christmas-themed questions ("Does Santa live in Canada?" "Do they have Christmas in England?") and had the kids take positions on either side of the stage in accordance with their answers. Then I would have the incorrect side take their seats, thereby whittling down to a group of three winners. The staff had prepared prizes of Mr. Donut promotional items for these lucky souls and I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was at least a bit jealous. The final activity was a huge game of janken (rock, paper, scissors). I have no idea how it works but Japanese children have devised some way of playing this game on a massive scale. They trail through the room in lines like monstrous serpents and in the end a victor emerges victorious.

Lastly, while on stage and holding a microphone, the organizer of the event asked me, "Mehan-Sensei, why don't you go backstage and get Santa-San?" Of course, when I got backstage, the only thing there was a oddly-sized Santa costume. As I handed out gifts, holding my red pants up with one hand and trying my best to avoid swipes at my beard, I was greeted only with skepticism. After handing out all the gifts, I ran backstage, took off the costume and ran back in to the hall through the front door, asking "Is Santa here?" Most of the children refused to beleive that Santa wearing the exact same pair of torn-up Onitsuka Tigers as me could be a coincidence. But of course, there were a few who asked "That really wasn't you Mehan-Sensei, was it? Really?"

Kentucky Christmas

A while back at a party, someone mentioned to me that the traditional Christmas meal in Japan is none other than Kentucky Fried Chicken (or simply "Kentucky" as it is called here). At the time I refused to believe it, as it just seemed a bit too ridiculous. However, after asking a number of people at my office, I have determined that it is indeed true, at least in many families. This article goes into a few of the reasons as to why, chief among them being that the average Japanese kitchen is woefully inadequate when it comes to the preparation of western-style foods. So, for the entire month of December, Japanese viewers are subjected to constant "Kentucky Christmas" commercials (last night, I saw the exact same KFC commercial played back-to-back, on more than one occasion) that feature happy couples brought together on Christmas by the magic of fried chicken. This is in keeping with the Japanese idea that Christmas is a holiday that is generally celebrated by couples (children are already given presents on shogatsu or new year's day). As you might have caught from one of my previous posts, Christmas has no religious significance in Japan, so with that messy business out of the picture, corporations are free to invent their own traditions.

Well, I had originally planned a tour of Hachinohe-area KFCs last night, in order to properly document the infamously long lines on Christmas Eve. But then I got lazy. So all you get is a photo of Leo posing humorously in front of Colonel Sanders instead. Merry Christmas.

Hirosaki Part Two: Hirosaki Castle

Hirosaki castle is probably the most famous landmark in all of Aomori. Built in 1611 by the Tsugaru clan, it is one of relatively few 17th century castles that has survived to this day. The castle is known especially for the large numbers of cherry blossom (sakura) trees that have been planted in the vicinity. During the spring cherry blossom festival, thousands of people travel from all over Japan to view the blossoms in Hirosaki.

Despite Hirosaki castle's status as a popular vacation spot, not many would-be tourists seem to travel there in the wintertime, most likely put off by the snow. Well, as we already there, I figured we ought to see it, especially as I had never been before.

The park surrounding the castle turned out to be incredibly snowy and since we weren't really prepared for this sort of thing, we ended up getting pretty cold and wet. Still, the snow did make for quite a number of picturesque scenes, so I'm quite glad that we decided to go. Being the immediate surrounds of a military castle, the park was full of bridges, moats, turrets and large gates, giving the area a very pastoral and historic feel.








Considering the road conditions earlier that morning, I decided that it would be best to start heading back while it was still light out, so we skipped Goshogowara completely and headed back towards Nambu after our time in Hirosaki. Ultimately, we achieved none of the goals that we had initially set out to accomplish (namely buying the couch and seeing some of Yoshitomo's work). Nonetheless, an adventure was had. By us. In Tsugaru.

Hirosaki Part One: The Search For Yoshitomo Nara

This past weekend, I was in the mood for a bit of an adventure. When I agreed to buy a used couch in Goshogawara for thirty dollars, it seemed that I had my excuse. You see, Goshagawara is on the western side of the prefecture, known as the Tsugaru side. While I'm lucky enough to live in the Nambu area, the southeastern corner of the prefecture that is nestled between the mountains and the sea and thereby protected from heavy snowfalls , the Tsugaru side supposedly experiences massive snowfalls daily during the winter. Being an old midwestern boy, I just had to see it for myself. How much snow could there really be?

Well, as chance would have it, I was having a conversation with Yayoi-San last week about Yoshitomo Nara, the most prominent member of the 90s "superflat" pop-art movement and one of my favorite visual artists. Since coming to Japan, I had discovered that he was born in Hirosaki, on the Tsugaru side of Aomori but since he now lives and works in Tokyo, I assumed that there probably wouldn't be anything Yoshitomo-related to see there. Well, Yayoi-San mentioned that a previous ALT, June, was also a Yoshitomo fan and had traveled to Hirosaki to see an art installation of his. Yayoi-San described it as being inside of a garage or some sort of concrete building. A little research revealed that the building she was talking about was the Yoshii Brick Brew House, an old brewery building that Yoshitomo has purchased and is now using to premiere his new shows before shipping them off to museums around the world. In fact, his newest show A to Z, which aims to create a small village inside of the Brew House, is scheduled to open in July. From what I could tell, there was no current exhibition at the Brew House but I figured, there had to be something to see there, right?

So on Sunday morning at just after 8:30 AM, with a night of partying and only four hours of sleep under our belts, Matt and I left Maria's apartment in Hachinohe for the wilds of Tsugaru. The plan was as follows: roll into Hirosaki, find the Yoshii Brick Brew House (although we had no idea whatsoever as to where it was located), see the sights, then head down to Goshogawara to pick up my couch before heading home. To the right, you'll see a map of the actual trajectory we followed on the trip. At the last minute, we agreed to give this guy Dan a ride, as he lives in Hirosaki and we were passing through there anyhow. Despite Matt's and my penchant for blasting the deliciously cacophonous Polysics in the car, Dan slept in the back-seat for the duration of the journey.

According to the estimates that I had heard, it would take us about two to two and a half hours to reach Goshogowara. Unfortunately, due to snow and taking a wrong turn, it took us two hours just to get to Aomori City, which is just west of the halfway point. Although snow coated the ground in a fairly thick layer, driving up to this point was more than manageable. While they don't usually plow or salt the roads in Japan, my all-wheel-drive Impreza proved as sure-footed as a mountain goat.

Upon reaching Aomori, we decided to get on the Aomori bypass, which allows those passing through to avoid the city traffic. This turned out to be a (nearly) fatal miscalculation. The bypass is elevated above the city, where high winds caused the already massive amounts of snow on the ground to drift. Additionally, trucks would occasionally blaze past, kicking up clouds of snow in their wake. This snow hit my windshield and immediately turned to ice, which was especially inconvenient as my ice-covered windshield wipers were now essentially useless. As it was, I couldn't even see where the lanes were but the collusion of the aforementioned factors brought visibility down to about zero. There were actually a few times where I had to stop the car in the middle of the highway because I literally couldn't see anything-the car in front of me, the road-just pure white.

Well, somehow, we made it to Hirosaki in one piece, although it took us the better part of four hours. Just as we were rolling into the city proper, Dan awoke in the back seat, so I asked him if he knew how to get to the Brew House. He had no idea what I was talking about but he did call Angela, who has apparently been in Hirosaki for some time now and she was able to give us directions.

And so we arrived at the Yoshii Brick Brew House, a collection of large, interconnected, brick buildings. As we approached the closest building to the road, we saw that there was no obvious entrance, so I decided to circle the building in search of one.


After walking halfway around the perimeter, it became pretty clear that there had not been any activity in the vicinity of this building for some time. Once we reached the other side of the building, we saw that the front-side sat in an open field of knee-high snow. It was quite clear that there was nothing to see here. But I figured, we came this far, why not go all the way? Wearing only a sweater, blue jeans and tennis shoes, I jumped into the snowy field without hesitation and began trekking through it. I'm pretty sure that at this point, Matt and Dan looked at each other in bewilderment, asked each other "What the fuck is he doing?" and then defeatedly followed me into the white abyss. Below you'll see a photo of Matt, the words "What the fuck are we doing here?" undoubtedly forming on his lips.

Momoishi Night Fever

Before I tell the tale of my first bonenkai, it might be useful to have some background on the cast of characters, the employees of the Momoishi board of education. From left to right (not including myself):

Baba-San: Most senior woman at the board of education and my self-proclaimed "Momoishi Mother". Possibly because she has a far-away son about the same age as me, she's decided to take it upon herself to see that my basic needs are met. She's actually been extremely helpful, assisting me in everything from car buying to miso soup making. Practices ikebana in her spare time.

Superintendent Komata: Tiny, frail-looking, old man who speaks almost exclusively in the unintelligible northern dialect of Nambu-ben. Known to play hooky from work and then reply with only grunts when someone inquires as to where he's been. Also known to spontaneously break into song when alone in his office in the afternoons, much to the entertainment of those of us who sit next door.

Yayoi-San: I'm not sure exactly what Yayoi-San's job is but my impression is that she is an extremely capable person. I often see people from other offices coming to her for advice and she's also more knowledgeable about computers than anyone else in our immediate office. Is secretly an excellent English speaker although she's very shy when it comes to speaking English and generally only does so in extenuating circumstances (i.e. when someone is trying to explain something very important to me and I'm staring in her general direction with a look of complete confusion on my face). Asked me to explain the difference between the English words "turtle" and "tortoise" at the bonenkai.

Kondoh-Kacho: Although he's technically my supervisor, you'd never know it. Unlike most ALT supervisors, he doesn't speak a word of English and generally takes a hands-off approach when it comes to the foreigner-in-residence. Still, he always comes through when needed and even lent me almost $2000 of his own personal money so that I could buy my car. Acts in a hilariously inappropriate manner when drunk (as you are about to find out).

Okubo-San (not pictured): Holds the unenviable job of office-lady. Her duties include making and serving beverages to staff as well as visitors during the day, cleaning dishes, paperwork and general administrative duties. Still, she somehow manages to maintain an upbeat demeanor and spirit of camaraderie at all times (including when Superintendent Komata literally throws the mail at her without so much as a glance in her general direction). The mother of two elementary-school-aged children, she generally does not drink at parties and almost always ducks out early to see to it that her children are well taken care of (the average Japanese husband is fairly inexperienced when it comes to childcare).

When it comes to Japanese office life, few things are as eagerly anticipated as the bonenkai or "end of the year party". Actually, a more accurate translation of the term would be "party to forget the previous year". You've probably heard that Japanese people are generally very reserved in the office, rarely expressing personal opinions or joking around and opting to instead let loose at office drinking parties where there are no consequences for their actions. I've found that this is about half true. In Aomori, people tend to be a bit more laid back and less formal, so it's not unusual for my coworkers to occasionally have casual conversations or joke around in the afternoons while at their desks. But man, do they ever let loose at the office parties.

Many offices around these parts seem to have large, elaborate bonenkais that include everyone from the municipal administration and spare no expense (Matt, for example, won a door prize and sipped on Dom Perignon at his). Ours, however, was a much more low-key affair, including only the six of us from the board of education. It was held at the "Drive-In," a deciptively-named Chinese restaurant that has nothing to do with either "driving" or "in" (and sadly, bears no relation to seminal Texas post-hardcore acts either). Basically, Baba-San brought a bag full of liquor (mostly nihonshu like sake and shochu) and we sat around drinking and eating Chinese food.

You've probably heard that somewhere close to 50% of East Asians are genetically predisposed to getting drunk on relatively small amounts of alcohol. Well, it's apparently true, the result of two genes that scientists believe are designed to prevent heavy drinking and alcoholism (some might argue that this represents a de-evolution). My bonenkai provided further empirical evidence of this, as after only two beers (keep in mind that Japanese glasses are tiny, so really, after about only one pint), my supervisor was red-faced and verifiably wasted.

Once my supervisor got going, he didn't stop for the duration of the night and the others were more than happy to sit and watch him perform. The first topic of discussion brought up was movies, he had apparently just seen Mr. and Mrs. Smith (which was only recently released in theaters here) and really enjoyed it. He decided to underscore this by acting out a few of the movie's shooting scenes for us, including what I assume were slow-mo Matrix shots. He then turned to me and said "My favorite movie is Saturday Night Fever. John Travolta." If you've ever actually seen my supervisor, you would know that this is twice as funny considering his 70s-style haircut and fashion sense.

Well, then he started telling a bunch of stories that I couldn't understand at all. I tried to follow him but mostly ended up sipping my drink and staring off into space. Well, all of a sudden, I head him repeatedly using a word that sounded a lot like "sex". He kept saying it over and over and was getting quite animated in the process, so I started laughing. From across the table, Okubo-San noticed this and exclaimed "Look! Mehan-San is laughing!" My supervisor then turned to me and asked "Do you understand what I'm talking about?" and I replied "Well, I understand 'sex,' that's an English word." He then asked me "Do you know what sex is? Sex?" while displaying the universal Japanese gesture for intercourse which can only be described as miming the act of tickling someone's back with both hands.

Well, once that was out in the open, there was no holding back old Kondoh-Kacho. The next topic of discussion was none other than the beloved, homoerotic variety show icon Hard Gay. Of course, once he started talking about the old HG, I lost it. "Do you know Hard Gay?" he asked in a surprise tone. "Of course I know Hard Gay," I replied, "the students at school talk about him all the time." I then mimed the trademark HG "Foo!" that I hear at least a hundred times a day which was met with huge laughs. My supervisor was so impressed with this that he stood up and walked over to me to shake my hand.

Somehow this discussion of the Hard Gay caricature segued into a more serious discussion of homosexuality. I took the opportunity to try to gain some insight into the Japanese societal view on the topic, something that is seldom publicly discussed in a serious manner. "Are there any homosexual people in Momoishi? Because I had a number of gay friends in Chicago." My coworkers shifted uncomfortably in their seats and Yayoi-San answered, "Well, if there are, no one knows about it." From what I've heard, 'don't ask, don't tell' still seems to be the modus operandi in many parts of Japan. This is especially true of those who have public personas to maintain (a good example would be the tarento, or variety show guests, many of whom are rumored to be homosexual and of whom Hard Gay may be a parody). Despite this fact, gay communities do exist in larger cities, even in Aomori, as evidenced by the "secret" gay bar in Hachinohe.

Well, I guess my questions were a cause for alarm because my supervisor asked me in a very concerned tone, "You're not gay, are you?" When I replied in the negative he asked, "Your girlfriend is...a girl? Are you sure? A girl?" My impression is that he seemed rather skeptical as to whether I could speak with any level of authority on the subject.

Despite the unresolved mystery of my sexuality, my supervisor decided to go ahead and tell us the story of his own sordid encounter with homosexuality. "So, I went to this club in Osaka, expecting to see a show," he said, "and when I get in there, it's two guys on the stage-" and at that point he mimed an oral sex act. Although I understood what he was trying to convey, Yayoi-San still felt the need to explain the situation to me, with gestures, of course. "You see, he saw these two guys," she started. "Yes, I understand," I interjected.

As we were preparing to leave the restaurant, my supervisor said one last thing to me, although it was completely unintelligible. I looked to Yayoi-San for some sort of explanation. "He said he hopes you have Momoishi night fever."

Frozen Food Review: Rice Burger

After experiencing Momoishi's second heavy snowfall last night, I'm now willing to concede that winter has officially begun. As such, I've been spending the majority of my time holed away in one room of my un-insulated apartment with my kerosene heater running full-blast, only venturing elsewhere when motivated by those concerns essential to life. As one might expect, the preparation of food in my kitchen has become an especially unpleasant task (for example, I noticed today that a bottle of olive oil in my pantry has frozen solid). This being the case, I have decided to begin exploring that staple of the bachelor diet: frozen foods. Luckily, Japan is blessed with a bounty of such items, only a small percentage of which are recognizable. In what will hopefully become an ongoing series (a la my Japanese frozen pizza reviews), I have decided to document my adventures in the freezer aisle.

Product: Rice Burger (yakiniku flavor)
Price: about $1.60

Burgers in Japan come in many varieties. While a few establishments (namely Mos Burger, Freshness Burger and of course, McDonald's) serve burgers on buns, just as many restaurants (if not more) serve them bunless, on a platter. Occasionally, these bunless burgers are adorned in other various ways (Big Boy subsidiary Milky Way, for example, serves what you might call a beef cordon bleu-a hamburger stuffed with cheese and ham). Another popular hamburger variant (available at Mos Burger and many other chains) is the rice burger, although it's really a burger in name only. Although the content can range from various meats to seafood, the "bun" is always the same: two patties made of rice. When purchasing the frozen variety, I generally choose the yakiniku flavor, which is stuffed with pork and onions.

Open it up and you're greeted by the white, microwavable bag pictured below.
After 2 minutes and 30 seconds in the microwave, the rice burger is ready to go. Below, we see the finished product.

While not very filling (in terms of size, it's somewhere between a regular White Castle burger and a McDonald's), the microwavable rice burger is satisfying in it's own way. The soft rice patties provide a nice alternative to a real bun and the yakiniku-style pork is flavorful without being overpowering. With an extremely simple and fast preparation, it's easy to recommend as either a snack or as part of a larger, preservative-filled meal.

Final Score: B+

Will Somebody Please Think of the Children?

Many of you will probably remember Jamie Patterson's infamous Kodomo Biru taste test. For those of you who don't, Kodomo Biru ("kids beer") is a non-alcholic children's beverage designed to mimic the appearance of beer. The beverage was introduced earlier this year and was apparently a rousing success. So, it should come as no surprise that the first wave of imitators has already arrived.

I was strolling through the supermarket a few days ago when something caught my eye. It was a bottle of so-called Kodomo no Nomimono ("kid's drink"), so I deposited it in my cart out of pure curiosity. My first thought was that Kodomo Biru had simply changed its name but a little research revealed that Kodomo no Nomimono is in fact, produced by an entirely different company (that seems to specialize mostly in tea). Well, I felt that this new beverage deserved the same consideration as Kodomo Biru, so I decided to document my experience.

The first thing I noticed, is that Kodomo no Nomimono has far less head than Kodomo Biru, at least from what I saw on Jamie's site. In this sense, it seemed more akin to soda than beer. The smell was pretty close to that of apple juice, so I had similar expectations in terms of taste. Sure enough, it tasted apple juice...mixed with ginger ale and the short-lived Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum Soda (props to anyone who actually remembers what that tasted like). So, in a word, terrible. I haven't actually tried Kodomo Biru but I can't imagine that it's any worse than this stuff.

One area where Kodomo Biru definitely has the edge, though, is marketing. Above you'll see the Kodomo no Nomimono bottle label, featuring the beverage's slogan "Even kids can join the toast!" Humorous as that may be, it's nothing compared to Kodomo Biru's utterly brilliant ad campaign. For those of you who don't read Japanese, both ads feature the same text: after the initial scene, it reads "For times like these...Kodomo Biru!" At the end, the beverage's slogan appears: "Even children cannot make it through life without a drink". Kanpai!

Anyone Up For a Bit of the Old Ultraviolence?

For want of something to keep me busy during these cold winter months, I picked up Biohazard 4 (a.k.a. Resident Evil 4 in the States) for my Gamecube, on the recommendation of Matt. I've always hated Resident Evil games, first and foremost for their sluggish control scheme that seems to think that limber, young police officers should have the maneuverability of my father's 1990 Volvo 240 (a vehicle that rightfully should have been classified as a tank, rather than a car). Luckily for me, they've seen fit to completely overhaul the controls (among other things) this time around, making for something much closer to Metal Gear Solid with zombies. Another unexpected discovery is the fact that almost all of the game's story is told through scenes with English voice acting and Japanese subtitles. Just about the only Japanese necessary is in the game's menus, where the ability to read katakana and a little bit of kanji goes a long way.

Well, I was eating lunch with the 7th graders today when one kid mentioned that he had seen me at the arcade with Matt about two weeks ago. He then started talking to his friends about videogames and in an attempt to make conversation, I mentioned that I've been playing Biohazard lately. While the Gamecube version is quite old at this point (by videogame standards, anyway), the recently released Playstation 2 version seems to still be a hot topic of conversation. Well, before I knew it, the entire room was chiming in ("I've already beat it!", "I just finished fighting the tyrant!"), giving me the impression that most of them owned the game as well. But wait, Biohazard 4 is supposedly only for sale to those of us who are at least 18 years of age. How did a whole room of 12 year-olds get their hands on copies of this game?

Seems like the Japanese Computer Entertainment Ratings Organization must be just as effective as its American counterpart, which has been under fire as of late, for its alleged poor performance. While there will always be parents (and multi-platinum rappers) out there who are willing to buy their children games intended for an older audience, the problem, according to media watchdog groups, is that retailers are often just as willing to sell the games directly to the children. Back in my geekier high school days, when I hung out at video game stores for fun (please, don't ask), I was frequently told by the clerks that if they refused to sell a game to a child, they would oftentimes find themselves on the wrong side of a yelling parent. I can easily see why a clerk in this situation would have absolutely no desire to enforce the ratings system.

Well, I guess I wouldn't have set to thinking about any of this were it not for the level of violence depicted in Biohazard. Having not played a violent videogame in years, I was a little taken aback when I first loaded up the game. It took me a good hour or so of gameplay to adjust to the idea of shooting realistically-rendered human beings with a shotgun. Maybe it's the teacher in me talking but I have to admit, the idea of my 12-year old students playing the same game is a little unsettling. And the fact of the matter is, studies do exist that show a correlation between violent games and violent behavior in children (yeah Chicago!), although these types of studies are publicly obfuscated by just as many industry-funded ones that purport to prove the opposite.

At any rate, some American conservatives are demanding that games should be censored to meet the requirements of children. Being a strong believer in the freedom of expression, I'm not sure that this is the answer. While I may not personally want to play an overly violent or sexually explicit game, I'm not sure that it's the role of any political body to prevent other adults from doing so. I think that relatively few people would agree that mature music or movies should be censored, so why games? In an ideal world, parents would monitor their own children's media consumption and ensure that it is appropriate for their age level. However, if parents are going to side with Mr. Cent, then more strict regulatory practices might be needed after all.

Jesus, Etc.

I began teaching my Christmas lesson at the middle school today and I thought I'd share a few tidbits with you:

1.) When reading over my history of Christmas speech, I stopped to quiz the students on a few key terms. "Who is Jesus Christ?" Silence. I then write "Jesus Christ" on the board and repeat the question. Again, silence and puzzled stares. "Jesus Christ was born on Christmas. Who is Jesus Christ?" Finally, one bold student speaks up. "Santa!" he yells out. The rest of the room nods in agreement.

2.) Part of the Christmas lesson dictated by the textbook involves listening to an embarrassingly bad cover of John Lennon's "Happy Christmas" by a nameless group of studio musicians and then filling in the blanks on the lyric sheet. In one class, when the English teacher asked the kids if they knew who John Lennon was, their answer was to loudly reenact Lennon's death. Apparently, he died while singing and playing a guitar and was shot with some sort of machine gun.

3.) I prepared a Christmas word-search for the middle school classes but since they were unfamiliar with most of the terms, they needed to be explained. In one of the classes, I read the words out loud in English and then the teacher explained them to the class in Japanese. When I got to "elves," she explained, "They help Santa. They are very small animals."

Additionally, I had a breakthrough at the kindergarten today. I've been trying to teach the four year-olds how to play duck, duck, goose since August but my results up to this point have been less than encouraging. No matter how much I explain, correct and demonstrate, the minute someone says "goose" the entire circle gets up and starts running around the room in all directions. Well, today, for no apparent reason, both of the classes instantaneously understood the game and were able to play with little explanation. I guess five months is the amount of time it takes a four year-old to internalize and comprehend a new idea? At this rate, I'll only need another two games to fill out the year.

Adventures in Supermarketing

If you thought that Crunk Juice was going to be the last of Lil' Jon's cross-promotional machinations, think again.

Japanese strawberries come arranged in lines so perfectly straight, it brings tears to my eyes. Just like Japanese onions. Those aren't arranged in lines, though.

Anyone who's a fan of dim sum is likely to know the merits of steamed meat buns. Unfortunately, these aren't nearly as good as the real deal but in a pinch, they make for a good microwavable snack. Katakana readers and the extremely observant alike will notice that these are pizza flavor.

This Australian guy, Clayton, is always eating the above fruits in our Japanese class on Tuesdays. At first I thought that they were orange tomatoes, so one day I told him that he reminded me of my hippie bus driver from middle school who told me that his name was "Frank Alfonzo Rob Bob" and who also used to eat tomatoes like apples while driving the school bus. Well, turns out, these things are actually a completely different fruit called persimmons. I've never seen them before in the states but according to Wikipedia, there's some sort of persimmon festival in Indiana? Who knew?

5th Grade Dogeball:

much more fun when you're the first picked every time and not the last. I must admit, though, I'm comparatively an easy target. It all comes down to surface area, people.

Hot Diggity Dog!

So I'm eating kyuushoku (school lunch) with the first graders yesterday, right? In classic Japanese school lunch fashion, the menu seemed to have been designed under the assumption that any foreign foods can be combined to create a meal: hot dog, potato salad and egg drop soup. At any rate, the hot dog was served cold and obviously a far cry from the world's greatest hot dogs that have made me into the snob that sits before you today.

As luck would have it, they at least saw fit to include ketchup and mustard, the latter of which is despised by most Japanese and hard to come by in restaurants. At first glance, it looked like spicy, brown deli mustard but in actuality wasn't even as flavorful or spicy as French's. Well, I'm from Chicago so I had to represent with straight mustard; I'll have none of that sugary tomato goo on my hot dog, thank you. About halfway through the hot dog, though, I noticed that everyone was staring at me (although this really isn't that rare of an occurrence). It appeared that I was the only person in the room who had dared to even try the mustard. "Mehan-Sensei," a girl across the table asked me, looking visibly concerned, "isn't it spicy?" I replied that it wasn't and I think that even by Japanese standards, this statement holds true. Well, the girl then daringly applied some mustard to her own hot dog (which was greeted with shocked gasps from around the room) and took a bite. "It's not spicy!" she declared, "It tastes like cheese." At this point, the demeanor of the room returned to normal and most kids resumed eating their hot dogs.

Spurred on by the boldness of the other girl at our table, the girl to the right of me decided to carefully apply a drop of mustard to her hot dog. I'd estimate that the circumference of the drop was no larger than that of the end of a ball-point pen. Furthermore, the taste had to have been completely lost in the slather of ketchup that she had also applied. Regardless, after taking a bite, she began to gyrate as if possessed, vaguely gesturing towards her unopened carton of milk but apparently incapacitated to the point that he hands were no longer useable appendages. Another girl had to open the milk for her which she proceeded to gulp down before slumping back in her seat and letting out an exasperated "Spicy" under her breath.

Halfway through lunch, the specially-abled child (mentioned in Monday's post), bolted out of his seat and began to run in circles around the room, screaming. Hot dog in hand, he made a large arc around the center cluster of desks, vanished out of the back door and then rocketed back in through the front door of the classroom. At the sight of this, all of the kids in class began to point and laugh at him while the teachers sat and observed the one man marathon for a few laps. He was then ushered to his seat where he finished the rest of his lunch in silence.

Go Shorty, It's Your Birthday

This is almost a week late now but let's all wish Matt a happy 22nd birthday, shall we?

Robots in Disguise

Can someone geeky (i.e. Baffa or Jamie) confirm whether or not this is a bona-fide generation one Transformer?

EDIT: I did a little research of my own and determined that the name of the character is "Sixshot" and the toy was originally issued in 1987. It was, however, reissued in 2000, so this is most likely a reissue rather than an original. Still, the toy was apparently originally issued in extremely rare black and clear versions, so I'm gonna head down after work today to see if I can glean any more information from the box.

Thanksgiving in December

The lesson plan well seems to have run dry as of late, so I've spent most of this week anachronistically teaching a Thanksgiving lesson to my younger students. Well, how could I teach little kids about Thanksgiving without that staple of American kindergarten education: the hand turkey? The answer is, I couldn't. So a few dozen young Momoishians were able to make their first hand turkeys this week.

While most Japanese children have a familiarity with Christmas and Halloween through holiday merchandizing (which is, literally, as inescapable here as it is in the US), Thanksgiving is a completely different story. Even though there is inexplicably a Japanese word for Thanksgiving (感謝祭), none of my kids had any idea what it was. Then, when I drew a cooked turkey on the board and asked what it was, most o