charlie-sunshine

Firstly I'd like to preface this post by sharing my latest discovery with you. You might recall me mentioning a Hari Krishnoligist (either Hari Krishna or Scientologist) randomly giving me this book which proverbially set a swarm of bees on my bonnet. After the minimal amount of searching on the interwebs, I've discovered its not a cult, people. It's a legit Swami's account of the ancient texts of the Gita. So, not Scientologists. Right. Not that I'm disappointed or anything. A scientologist approached me once, but those fuckers are schneeeaky. You first have to pay R150 to watch an informational documentary/ movie, before they tell you anything interesting.

Well,

1. Firstly, I rarely if ever pay to watch a movie i.e information session i.e advertorial i.e opportunity for a captive audience to be brainwashed Thetan-style.
2. One hundred and fifty rands is more than  sufficient to get your hands on a Dancing Bear and you can have your own private conversation with God. Seriously, I met a nice guy called Jesus under a tree at a trance party a few weeks back. Nice dude, bad teeth.

It's hard enough as it is... for me to function, assimilate and keep track of every bit of semi-useful piece of information. Watch the news. Follow celebrity gossip. Keep track of which episode of Sons of Anarchy we last stopped at. Keep a low profile, stop speaking Evasive Mumble, remember to feed Funky (seriously Funky, we can all stand to gain some appreciation for those less fortunate and skip a meal for a day).

NAG. NAG. NAG.

You get so lost sometimes, in the everyday eyes-closed routine that you forget about your more decadent dreams. No, not porn- but I'm sure this post will circumnavigate back to that topic. TRAVELLING. The word alone elicits sheer panic and dread with Moth, which I totally don't understand (but secretly enjoy). So while I've been feeling like a Gypsy with cage-rot for the past few weeks (can you blame me? I've got the census people hot on my ass.) I stumbled upon an article about how the Japanese government is dishing out 10 000 round trip tickets (albeit radioactive) to bloggers willing to prostitute themselves for a free trip by writing about their experiences in the Nation of the Rising Sun. This all with the intention of boosting tourism.

And, so....Robert is your mother's brother and also the president of Zimbabwe...



So listen my friends, spare a moment while I undertake this exercise in futility.



Rice, great if you want to eat a million of something.



Futanari is something so essentially Japanese and something so essentially twisted. Grotesque and gaudy but so damn alluring and interesting you just can't look away. That's Japan, anything and everything almost goes- or at least is given the right to exist (ahem...re-education camps much...Chairman Mao?). This is partly balanced by the ultra-conservative and traditional echelons of elderly folk.

But its the dirty trenches and subcultures that build the foundation of every teahouse worth its poon in geisha's. So here's a couple of reasons why I, and so by natural extension you (Moth, that includes you too) consider adding Japan to your bucket list.

With the worlds longest life expectancy and the highest suicide rate for under 30's Japan also boasts the world's lowest homicide rate. So, we've clearly established that they might not like killing each other, but sure have a penchant for suicide.


Japan is ranked top five importer and exporter in the world. That explains where all those sweets shaped like lil' hamburgers and hotdogs come from. C'maaaaan, really? Is food posing as another food really necessary. Weird and wonderful, Japan has it all.

Necessity has little value for me....incognito candy however- that ranks quite high on my hierarchy of needs.

ü   High fructose corn syrup....I need you in my life!


In such a homogeneous society where everyone looks the same, speaks the same language and genetically inherits ancient, social fears, Japan boasts the fertile breading ground for any and every subculture, preference and school of thought out there. The language in particular fascinates me, they have a specific word for everything....like bukaki- I encourage you to look up this word independently, when you have a moment. Some jewels are better discovered alone. Japan also signed a treaty that renounces it's right to wage war...like, ever. I like that.

ü   No war.
ü   Additional profanities to learn.

Its looking pretty good so far. Increased tourism numbers are meant to allay the fears of the local population regarding the radiatioactive fall-out. Because hey, it's totally okay to use foreigners as human capital to sway Japanese opinion...apparently. This sounds more like payback for a not-so-forgotten mushroom cloud that still looms in the recesses of public perception. Ironically, I mentioned this to Moth..his response,

"If you can guarantee I get bitten by a radioactive something or other, and through genetic mutation gain super powers...my ass is on the first plane to Tokyo."


ü   Possibility of super powers......or grotesque mutation. Mmm, I'm guessing we'll take our chances.

The Japanese are also known to be quite critical of themselves, their culture and generally everything. From musical toilets that drowns out the noise of your ass trumpet, to the fairer sex butchering their eyelids to appear more Western and forests specifically designated for suicide- there's always a proper way to do improper things. Almost everything is frowned upon, but everything goes. So, like a lil'one being lured by misrepresented sweets and the empty promises of super powers, I gladly add Japan onto my bucket list...along with Easter Island and Machu Pichu because everybody deserves the chance to munch hallucinogenic cacti at ridiculous altitudes....who are we to judge? After all, we're not Japanese. Now just to find a Harashuku outfit that fits Moth....mmm...