Have It Your Way/Segue

Originally I started this blog with the honourable intentions of providing a little entertainment for my own purposes and also to maintain a little sanity while immersed in Japanese culture.

However, as longtime followers* of this column will notice, I feel it is becoming more and more necessary to rant at least once per post. I fear this may be the way all so called writers evolve. First it begins with humorous observations to entertain. Then as our confidence grows, we feel the need to educate. Then, a couple of single malts down the road comes the need to pontificate. From there it is a bloody slippery slope to dictating to the masses, where abiding by the law and displaying general human decency is optional. Hello Murdoch/Kyle Sanderlands.

Talking of tinpot dictatorships, our neighbours down the road, aka North Korea, decided to rattle a sabre (literally - the only other option was a donations tin for spare change), so instead of the world media taking a balanced view of things and paying them no attention, they freaked out and gave that idiotic regime all the attention they wanted. The looks on those smug North Korean official's faces as they answered questions about the 'missile' launch were so infuriating. Talk about fiddling with sticks as Rome burned (and starved).

Interestingly, the world's media outlets then posted follow up articles refering to the 'much hyped missile launch'. Which they had no hand in, obviously. Aside from the 'much hyped' bit, obviously.

As for the missile itself, upon closer viewing on the TV pre-launch, I decided that it posed no threat at all when I saw one bloke fixing roofing nails to the fin. Roofing nails. I mean I'm no rocket scientist, but I'm thinking that roofing nails don't quite cut the mustard in terms of structual integrity.

Oh, and talking of abiding by the law, or not, it was with absolute outrage that I saw a bit of press on the Catholic church's involvement and cover up of sexual abuse. For the last few decades, the priests involved thought they could 'deal with this sort of thing in house'. ie without the involvement of the police. And we're not talking isolated cases here. We are talking systemic abuses and subsequent cover ups, condoned by senior figures in the hurch. Disgusting. The only other example I can think of who prefer to deal with law transgressions in this covert way are criminal organisations such as the Mafia, who also deal with transgressions of their own code and the law 'in house'. Even the most shambolic excuses for sporting clubs in Australia, rugby league clubs, defer to the police when one of their players inevitably has a few too many sherbets and assaults someone.


Australia has enshrined in law such wonderful things as freedom of discrimination on the basis of colour, creed or religion. Which means that you are perfectly entitled to run a crackpot organization that has archaic views on gays, marriage, contraception and is governed by old men that have never had sex. (Please note that according to the wonderfully tolerant catechisms of the Catholic Church, the only way a gay person can work for a Catholic school, is if they profess to be a Catholic, and that although homosexual they do not have gay sex. Figure that out). However, if you want to operate within our society, with all the protections and benefits that confers, including freedom to teach religion, you must be prepared to abide by the same laws which are in place to protect everyone. Especially the most vulnerable in our society - the dispossessed, the abandoned, the children.


I'm not saying that the Church is evil. Many great things have been done by followers of the Catholic faith. But many great things things have been done by people of all faiths, or no 'faith' at all. Personally, I think there is a marked distinction between people who are Catholics and people who espouse the teachings of Jesus.

People who profess One Love. Not tolerance. But love.


And if you truly love people, you know that doesn't mean you get to make up your own rules.


Other than amateur looking missiles going awry, and outrage at the bullshit behaviour of the Catholic Church, it has been a splendid few weeks here in Amakusa. Beautiful days spent kicking the Sherrin under the cherry blossoms, shredding a few hills on my longboard, having friends to stay, it has been a whirlwind of gentle, relaxed activity.

As I sit here with my son sleeping on my chest, I give praise to all those who have made sacrifices so that I can live such a blessed life.

Happy ANZAC Day.

*Thanks Dad.

Fatherhood

Talk about ups and downs. Sometimes I think I'm going through menopause. Some days all I feel like doing is staying in my pyjamas, making bread and reading utter trash online. And my facial hair - astonishing!

Life is funny.

Sometimes you will be laughing with your child, with both of you unable to explain just what is so funny.

Other times, my son cries so hard it makes me cry. Then again, I once cried during Street Fighter: The Movie, when Jean-Claude Van Damme makes a speech about democracy. So I guess you should make your own judgement as to my tear threshold.

But today, I'd like to treat you to the 10% rule of fatherhood. Even in our luxurious, time rich existence in Japan, I have experienced the following:

• You will forget approximately 10% of what people say to you. Generally the important bits. I have (apparently) had entire conversations with people that I do not recall in any way whatsoever. Worse than Bacardi blackout.
• You will take 10% longer to do things, because inevitably there is vomit on your shirt, what appears to be peanut butter on your arm and you haven't gone to the toilet in 2 days and you don't know what to address first. Mainly because the peanut butter may not be peanut butter.....
• This is compensated for by the development of extreme skill in doing several things at once. Women refer to this as 'multitasking' or even just 'living'. For the guys out there, imagine you're watching the footy, having a beer and talking to a mate on the mobile. Conceptually, that is what it is about. Realistically, its about slurping a cup of tea, getting dressed, mentally calculating whether you have time to do a load of washing and all the while holding what feels like an extremely delicately packed 8 kg bag of ripe avocadoes that is equipped with one of those bomb timers like off Speed (starring Sandra Bullock. Mmmm); you stop moving, it explodes.
• You will be 10% more tolerant and understanding of everyone, except people who cut in front of you at the supermarket. That sort of shit will rile you up and keep you awake at night.

Mothers and fathers of the world, I salute you.

Music of the Week

Thankfully, my son has embraced classical music. It would have been so embarrassing if he started listening to whatever it is the youth of the today rot their brains with.

No such worries in this cerebral household. His favourite pieces include:

• Life after Death (Notorious B.I.G)
• Doggystyle (Snoop Dogg)
• Liquid Swords (GZA)

I just hope he appreciates Eric B. and Rakim too.

Sporting Moment of the Week

Given the Dees continue to disappoint (for the extent of my lifetime so far, unless you include the glorious 1987 'night grand final' in which we smashed Essendon. And I do), there are no football related plays to talk about, I'm afraid.

Instead, you have the following to to choose from. Either some carefully edited footage of me skateboarding, set to some classic hip-hop, in which you will be able to observe that I have ruined my jeans, my skateboard gloves, and some kneepads.

 

Or a short 19 second video of my son showing aptitude and comic timing all at once. Please put the volume on for full effect, so that you can hear the commentary.

This weeks's Quiz (with apologies to John Clarke)

Please view the photos below. Then skip straight to the section below for the answers to the 11 most commonly asked questions.

1. The correct answer is b) The small child is on the left of the photo. On the right of the photo there is a large fish.
2. Incorrect. It was Kim Jong Un who had plastic surgery to enhance his double chin, not the child in the picture.
   
3. Yes. His name is Plaxico.
4. False. The name Plaxico was popularized by the NY Jets football player of the same name, who gained infamy by accidentally shooting himself in the leg with his own concealed handgun at a nightclub, and subsequently went to jail. Humorously, the gun was concealed in the waistband of his tracksuit pants at the time of the shooting. Plexiglass is a product used by car manufacturers for windscreens.
5. Correct. I did not catch the fish. I only catch fish smaller than my child. Jerremy Akiyama caught the fish.
6. True. Jerremy is a show-off.
7. False. Plaxico is not yet eating solids and most certainly did not eat a fish approximately that size prior to the photo shoot.
8. True. Man has walked on the moon, and sequenced the genome, but we are no closer to knowing how many chins to the nearest 10 that my son has.
9. False. His cheeks have not been digitally enhanced.
10. Correct. Picture 1 is the closest to a Mexican stand off the Japanese public have ever seen.
11. None of the above. We are not sure if he looks happy in the second photo because he has been told he can eat the fish as part of his 100 day celebrations, or whether he was looking forward to wrestling the fish as part of his 100 day celebrations.

 

EQUALITY/YEAH, WE LIVE IN A DEMONGRITULE

After exhausting my emotional depth and writing talent last week (see previous post), its back to inane comments and random YouTube clips this week.

Before I do, though, I've got to say that I feel truly blessed by the many kind people that responded with support and love. I guess not many people have been left untouched by the loss of a loved one. Social media forums loke Facebook and Twitter have their many knockers, with many people dismissing them as a series of inane rants by affluent people whinging about they didn't get the coffee they wanted, or that traffic is bad, or whatever. The majority of the information on these forums may be relatively inane, but then again so is the majority of my daily conversation. They remain amazing forums for spreading awareness and concern for people.

Now that thats out of the way.....

For me, the change in weather has seemingly coincided beautifully with the sad memories of last week starting to settle.

Memories of lost ones will never completely heal, but they do become less painful. I find that the best therapy for sad times, involves lying down in the sun, on some soft grass, with a faithful dog beside you.....

The weekend papers, homemade sourdough toast and a pot of tea.....

Sunlight streaming through the window.....

Somewhere far in the distance, hearing a lawnmower whirr into life.....

Seeing that the trees are well manicured, with a restrained parade of colour, but the blossoms are not in full bloom...

You're not sure whether to read, cuddle your sleeping baby, do a load of washing or just sit there and take it all in.

Thats right, spring has sprung. It is magic. Perfectly symbolised by my coriander seedlings, emerging from the ground as I type this. I planted some coriander seeds into some pots on the widowsill with a sense of hope a few weeks ago, when the cold weather didn't look like ending. I fear that in a couple of months it'll have bolted to seed, and the whole exercise will have provided enough leaf for half a taco, but the progress has been uplifting nonetheless.

The sakura (cherry blossom) is in bloom here, and the sight is unlike anything I've seen before. I didn't think I would be seduced by such obvious beauty; I thought my appreciation of nature leaned towards the nuances of the Australian bush, of the textured colours that can take a lifetime to describe.

But no, it appears I'm a sucker for the sakura. Perhaps it is their fleeting, ephemeral quality that makes them so attractive.

 

With spring comes boundless optimism. I'm the sort of guy who walks into the casino, 'feels lucky', and promptly loses $100 on roulette. Just last year, while giving the dancefloor a bit of dougie, I attracted a plethora of young ladies who appeared keen to match their moves with me. Whilst nursing a horrible hangover the next day, I reflected that perhaps these young women had not, in fact, chosen the stallion of the floor to get loose with. Perhaps, they were gracing the oldest, most non-threatening, saddest looking loser with some badly needed affection. The duration of this reflection could not be measured in metrics; it was so fleeting that before I knew it, I was giving myself a bit more dougie in the mirror, with a knowing smile, a wink, and a bottle of gatorade in my sweaty mitts.

On this subject, I always thought that I would marry the woman of my dreams. But I never realised I would get to marry her twice, which brings us to.....

THE MOTHER OF ALL WEDDINGS

Yo yo, I heard Kim Kardashian married some guy for 84 days or summink. And J.Lo had sushi being served on naked models at her wedding.

But nothing beats marrying the woman you love for the second time.

The first time I got married, I must admit I was a little nervous. It was great and all, and I dearly loved the woman, but without getting too intimate - what if she never puts out? What if she wanted to stay chaste for the rest of her life?

These questions dogged me for days, particularly as our wedding day was such a happy day, yet lacked a happy ending....

I'm happy to report that my second marriage was a far more relaxing occasion. This time, the lady in question had runs on the board and experience under the belt (see my son for evidence). And whats more, I love her even more than the woman I married the first time.

She makes me laugh, makes me think, makes me coffee (rarely), encourages me to follow my dreams, is my dream, and is as tough as she is beautiful (heaps).

She makes me a better person and I am so grateful for her.

While Wedding #2 provided a useful opportunity to get kitted up in exotic clothing and express our love for each other, this was not the sole point of the day. It was also to provide a feature for a local festival to be held in Amakusa that day. Indeed, the dearth of local couples getting married that day left an opportunity for Emma and I to renew our vows in a formal Japanese manner, take a ride in a rickshaw, be interviewed by a local TV crew, and generally be treated like royalty. They had me at 'rickshaw'.

We started off at the local shrine. I had clean underpants on and Emma had frozen Ziploc bags of breast milk. We were down for whatever.

Two ladies asked us to undress, as my mother-in-law watched on. (Regular followers of this column should note is not normally how my day goes - normally it is the other way round).

The ladies then kitted us out in a kimono and wig for Emma, and a hakama for me, with my hair being declared suitably samurai like/awesome to be left alone.

 

After being dressed, we met the shinto priest for a quick run through of how things would roll. I recall it as something like this 'stand up, bow twice, sit down, drink a cup of sake in 3 sips, turn to your left, wave a branch, drink more sake in 3 sips, put your thumbprint on this piece of paper, bow twice. And don't mess any of it up, theres a television crew filming'. In hindsight this seems like some sort of drinking game performed for Funniest Home Videos, but it was serious as a heart attack at the time. The fact the priest had a photo of the emperor in his temple possibly indicated that his views on interracial marriage were, ahem, 'mixed', but he was admirably professional, particularly when you consider the robes he was wearing:

With many onlooking, we managed to get the bulk of it right, and before long we had safely negotiated an interview with a TV comedian, and were safely surrounded by family and friends, including our son Plax, who slept through yet an another important moment in our lives. Bless him. The comedian's repertoire seemed to consist of mocking the English language and anyone who spoke it. In addition to this, he congratulated Emma's Dad on his ability to speak Japanese, which, given he was born in Japan and lived here for the majority of his life, is perhaps not as admirable as it seems.

 

Soon we were being led along the local streets in the rickshaw, with a pack of gorgeous kids dressed in traditional garb leading the way. So many onlookers lined the streets, I felt like royalty. Sadly though, I believe my excited demeanor betrayed my peasant status, as I gleefully waved to all and sundry, instead of solemnly avoiding eye contact and deigning to display the royal wave only.

 

We eventually made it to the main street where the festival was being held. Shrieks of excitement by local kids and the scent of bbqd meat filled the air. I was persuaded to stay on board the rickshaw, despite the lure of grilled chicken, until we got to the stage.

Then it was time for a little more ceremony, before we were set up onstage, flanked by our trusty entourage and fronted by the colourful kiddies.

The ceremony concluded with us throwing out 1000 mochi pieces to the adoring crowd. Over 200 people clamoured for the mochi as we threw it. Grannies elbowed young kids out the way for a piece. It was truly a heartening sight.

After one last hat change for Emma, Wedding #2 was over.

We savoured the experience with a cup of macha green tea crafted during an elaborate, graceful process by someone who could only be described as an artist.

It was an absolutely wonderful experience and I'm so grateful and blessed to have had the opportunity.

 

See the flick below for the telly special they did on the wedding. Apologies for the dodgy footage - it was a last minute Mexican style prop-up-the-ipad recording of Emma's Grandma's TV, which explains the brown fluffy blanket lurking in the left hand corner.

 

However, please note that this certainly won't be our last wedding. We plan to get married as many times as there are Die Hard movies. That means there are 2 to go at this point, and with filming to begin on A Good Day to Die Hard in April, there could well be at least one more....

JAPANESE ENGINEERING/SHE'LL BE RIGHT, MATE

Alternative titles include: 'Japanese Engineering: Not as good as we all thought'. Or even 'What the Fukukshima Nuclear Plant Designers are doing now'

Found this little nugget of genius on the road up to the in-laws. It involves tie-wire, plastic twine and besser blocks. No word on potential compensation offered when the wind decides to drag the entire sign, blocks and all, into oncoming traffic.

 

I believe that most Australians would be familiar with the concept of 'bush engineering'. It probably first came to prominence as a concept when Ned Kelly stole a plough disc and made a metal helmet and breast plate out of it. Or when New Zealand faced a food shortage, were getting cold at night and lacked women of marriable age and started raising sheep to solve all 3 problems. I thought it was a uniquely Australian concept, involving using only the available resources to solve a problem, which in the bush can mean doing a lot with very very little. On second thoughts though, traditional land owners of the world have been doing this for millenia.

So there is something about the photo below that I love. It is a small set up that achieves 3 things:

• Shelter for farm equipment from rain
• Captures rain for later use on the farm
• Allows for distribution of the captured water via the offtake from the bath.

Every part of the arrangement below has been scavenged. And in a resource poor world, which is the way we're headed, innovation like this becomes essential.

JAPANESE INVENTION OF THE WEEK

The low hanging fruit in this category has been exhausted, and after a while the most wondrous of inventions become standard fare. I rarely stand up to pee anymore; why bother, when you've got a pre-warmed toilet seat ready to go?

However, I refuse to let this stop me. I have searched high and low. I cruise back streets and shopping malls. I am inexhaustable when it comes to seeking innovation.

After lengthy consideration, this battery vending machine was considered the invention of the week. Lets face it, in a world of late night convenience stores and rechargable batteries, a battery vending machine is hardly cutting edge. Can't jam any of these into your iPhone when you need it.

So imagine the world these blokes were living in when they devised the battery vending machine. Demand for batteries must have seemed insatiable. This would have been the era of Nintendo Gameboys, Sony Walkmans and the newly invented remote control.

People must have been waking up in the middle of the night thinking 'Shit, I left the washing outside. Oh, and I urgently need some batteries. I know, I'll quickly zip past that conveniently located vending machine'.....

WHINGE OF THE WEEK/HELLO JULIA

Dear Julia/Kevin/Whoever has assumed 'leadership' of this sheep station,

I consider myself fortunate to be an Australian. To wake up every day and dream of Vegemite on toast, the finest coffee on earth, that beautiful bloody sun shining through the majestic gum trees that the most recent arrivals to our land haven't managed to justify cutting down yet. To dream of great days, and even better tomorrows. To know that whatever it is in this land I strive for, I have a bloody great chance of achieving. To know that the people that may discriminate on the basis of race are the minority, and are easily identified by their tendency to proliferate around Murdoch publications. I'm not going to list the diversity amongst the friends I have, because it could be viewed as an exercise in how awesome I am. But put it this way, I love this country. I love it so much I had the southern cross tattooed on my chest. With a rusty nail and some leftover blue paint.

So it was with great interest that I read over the citizenship papers for our young man. Incidentally, despite being burdened with a name ripe for teasing, Gaku Plaxico Akiyama Reeves, the egalitarian nature of our wonderful country means that I have the utmost confidence that he will teased just the same as the other kids with more common names. Indeed, my brother in law, Gou Jerremy Akiyama, who is commonly referred to as Gozza in Australia, asked me with some fear, 'Have you considered that Plaxico almost rhymes with 'spastic'?'.

The 'Declaration' of the citizenship papers asks you to read a lengthy series of paragraphs authorising the Australian Government to basically do what it wants with your information, all for the greater good I'm assuming. Then it asks you to 'understand that', among other things:

• Australian society values respect for the freedom and dignity of the individual, freedom of religion, commitment to the rule of law, parliamentary democracy, equality of men and women and a spirit of egalitarianism that embraces mutual respect, tolerance, fair play and compassion for those in need, and the pursuit of the public good.
• Australian society values equality of opportunity for individuals, regardless of their race, religion or religious background.

Its the bit about the fair play that tickles my fancy. I love it. Despite the widening gap between the haves and the have-nots, our country is still one that allows for unchecked dreaming. My little man can be anything he wants, if he has the grit and determination to do it. He could be captain of the Australian rugby team. Make movies. Make coffee. Be a synchronised diver. A high court judge. A singer. A premiership winning captain of the Melbourne Football Club. Bat at no. 3 for Victoria. Get married to the person he loves.

Er, on second thoughts, no he couldn't.

Not if he's gay. He could do everything else, but not get married.

Seriously?

There are so many fundamental issues in Australia that need addressing (such as the aforementioned widening gap between the rich and poor, who will play at first drop in the Test team until Plax is ready, and who the hell is going to lead my beloved Melbourne Football Club to their next premiership), yet you choose to fiddle around and debate this topic at your Senate enquiry.

How about you wind up the debate, pass the motion, just do what is obvious to everyone and legalise gay marriage. In our society, as clearly stated on our citizenship application form, we celebrate diversity. Hurry up and allow us to bloody well celebrate it, with some lamb chops on the barbie, stubbies of Coopers and glitter sprinkled on oiled up bodies. In fact lets celebrate it with a bloody day off. I reckon even Tourism Australia could devise something involving mass gay marriage, the Mardi Gras, Dame Edna Everage, and Kylie Minogue that would possibly even be profitable. Although that may be aginst their charter.

Then get the Senate onto the complex stuff that does require more than one pinhead to consider it.

Yours sincerely,

Paul

P.S How dare you potentially rob me of the opportunity to tell Dad jokes at my son's wedding?

P.P.S http://www.australianmarriageequality.com/wp/

 

PLAY OF THE WEEK

This week I got to live out one of my dreams. To marry the woman that I love.

Sometimes the cynicism and grind of the media cycle lead me to believe that people have forgotten how to dream. That we are a culture obsessed with money and status, clothes and shoes.

Is this true? Have we forgotten how to chase the dream? I just mean the pure simplicity of doing something because you love it. Because the thought of not doing it is unbearable.

Not for the money. Not for the ladies or the free pies.

I'm living the dream right now. Sure, it may be a little less noteworthy than some, but its my dream nonetheless.

Stories like Linsanity get us pumped because we remember what it is like to live the dream. You reckon Izzy Folau gets excited about going out to play like some B-grade AFL hack in some gravel top oval in the west of Sydney? Shit, even playing rugby league is better than that.

To all you people wondering how to pursue your dream, watch this, and remember that this man is now remembered as the greatest rapper of all time.

 

 

RIP B.I.G