Off for a bigot, er, bit

Our Man is taking a well-earned rest from his half-baked internetin, tweetin and such to "spend some quality time with his family" er, in a tent somewhere in the wilds of Ibaraki, wherever that is (lucky family - ed.) and he may even have some time to spend writing his novel instead of tweeting about writing it.

He may be back in time to live tweet the UK election, if he remembers. In the meantime, may Our Man recommend the usual suspects down the right hand side of this chip-wrapper of a blog for your titillation and a couple of other beauties that he really should make an honest woman of one of these days:

Policomix for all your instant satire needs.
The new-look wordpress Epsilon gamma gamma sigma or something for all you smart Japano-politico-folk but with too short an attention span to fathom Master Tobias.
Should you wonder at the odd electoral news coming out of Blighty, and fancy making a few bob at the electoral races, check in with Political Betting (yes, Brits are that cynical). Just remember, the bookie always wins in the long run.

OK, everyone else has linked to it, so Our Man will too, because Jon Stewart is just too spot on.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Clustershag to 10 Downing
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

See you all in a bit.

Cheap Plonk, the e-mailed-in poem

Yellow Tail
Black Castle
A yard of ale
Would be less hassle

Shiraz? Rioja?
Cabernet Sauvignon?
Is it cork or screw-top?
Who cares, pass us the carton.

(Happy Golden Week to all Our Man's Fellow Travellers!)

Another great well-reasoned post from Our Man (TM)

Join us fellow lefties when we say Yanks go home! We don't want your pizza no-more, we like Chinese takeaway!

With no Foreign Occupation Devils, our peace-loving Japanese military will get a well-earned chance to add a lick of paint to their wounded pride at the hands of the inferior beings of Overseasland and we can all take our rightful place behind the emperor.

One day the world order will return to the natural Japanese hierarchy in which blackhairdye paranoid elderly men are the top of the heap.

Yes, that's what we all want.

Image lifted from here.

Great media opportunity for the right candidate

Gosh, this job description here has got Our Man's name all over it.

Our Man would like to credit whoever tweeted the link, but he can't for the life of him remember who that was. (Guess that rules you out of the job, huh smart arse? - ed.)

Ash and elections: All bets are off

Hey, what do we have here?

Yep, you got it kids, it's a Newz-Paper of course, and not just any old one, but Our Man's very own Tempus Jopanicus. (Our Man knows this because of the classic 19th Century layout of eight columns with big(ish) headlines at the top and little heads at the bottom (this is so the reader knows the worthiest but dullest stories are above the fold where only adults can reach, and the stuff that's worth reading is at the bottom of the page).

Here's what Our Man learnt from not reading today's paper:

1. Nobody knows how long Europe will be shut, but everyone keeps talking about it all being over in a few days (like The Great War, wot? - ed.). Our Man doesn't know much about volcanoes, but neither does anyone else, otherwise they would have told someone at Heathrow a few weeks ago, right? If no-one could predict what was going to happen, how come we believe the experts now when they tell us that it'll probably all be over in a few days? Volcanoes don't follow flight itineraries.

2. Looky there at the bottom of the page. Yes, there is a Liberal Democratic Party that is doing well in the polls lead by a Blairite pro-European who is about as un-British as they come. Sure, the third home-of-the-protest-vote party hasn't won a British election in almost 100 years, but then who would have bet on the skies being full of magic dust with the power to close a continent. Our Man was busy doing what he does best (sitting on your arse drinking coffee - ed.?) scoffing at Nick Clegg's chances, when Our Woman reminded him that everyone thought the DPJ could never break the LDP here in lil ol Japan. But they did.

3. Oh, and the point of this post. What's that garish advert at the bottom of the page. Let's zoom in shall we?

Oh, it's just some loon come to tell us about crop circles and UFOs and such. Our Man has long known not to trust folk in polo-necks, but given the track record for odd occurrences recently, maybe the wisest course is to admit all bets are off.

Hope Mr Creme paid a lot for the ad. Wouldn't want to sully your integrity for free, would you Japan Times?

Deep thoughts for bath night

Here's a couple of not very deep thoughts rattling about Our Man's
head while he waits for the kids to get out the bath.
1. Why are we surprised when China starts acting all authoritarian and
nasty and, er, communist (google, Tibet and whatnot)?
2. Why are we surprised when bankers get caught behaving like, well,
selfish capitalists (bailouts, Ripoffs and fraud)?

Told ya it wasn't very deep. Oh kids out of bath. Gotta go.

Smart stuff about the DPJ and the USA

Attention folk looking for some smart take on the DPJ and prosecutors and the DPJ and The Alliance and such. Stop hanging around here forchrissakes, get over to Japan Focus just here. Warning: You may need to clear 10 minutes of your time, but it's worth it.

Secret handshake to, well just about everyone, but howabout the first link Our Man saw to it, here.

That is all. Now back to the normal programming.

Righteous indignation put back in the box

Maybe Our Man spoke too soon. It's just possible that the Reuters boss is getting stuff done behind the scenes. Certainly, seeing the Japanese Prime Minister on TV pushing for an investigation into the killing of cameraman Hiro Muramoto is a pretty good start at a stab at some kind of justice. (NB - don't let your allergic reaction to authority get the better of you every time - ed.)

Righteous indignation duly sheathed.

Death of (another) Reuters journalist and (another) half-arsed Schlesinger response

Another day, another Reuters journalist shot dead by soldiers, another bland PR statement from David Schlesinger, the Reuters editor-in-chief talking about war being a dangerous thing and all. Well, no shit Sherlock. Let's see, what's the score so far? Four dead Reuters reporters at the hands of US troops, now one from Thai squadies. Yeah, I bet the editor is pissed off and ready to blow. Mess with my staff, you mess with me, sunshine!

Er, not exactly:

I am dreadfully saddened to have lost our colleague Hiro Muramoto in the Bangkok clashes. Journalism can be a terribly dangerous profession as those who try to tell the world the story thrust themselves in the center of the action. The entire Reuters family will mourn this tragedy.

Dunno about you, but if I were the wife who got the 2am call that her husband, the father of her two young children, had been shot dead, I'd prefer something a little more heartfelt.

Our Man understands that Mr S. is used to watching his words for legal reasons (who's gonna sue him? The grunts? The Thais? They shoot people they don't like). But frankly, when a good bloke like Muramoto, 43, is gunned down, it's time to say fuck the lawyers,

we won't stop until his killers are exposed.

Mind you, Our David's got prior. His response to the US massacre of civilians, including two Reuters journos in Iraq caught on film here*, was "lessons must be learned."

Indeed.

Our Man left a comment of what lesson he thought Schlesinger and any journos with any integrity left at Reuters might learn on the great man's blog right here (though at time of going to press, it was still awaiting moderation). Feel free to add your thoughts too, dear readers.

Hiro Muramoto (1966-2010) Rest in Peace.

David Schlesinger (1960- ) Pull Your Finger Out.

*Oh dear. It appears wikileaks and the collateral murder sites are down, now where can we go for journalism with balls? Reuters? Hah! Oh, howabout here:

Wine review by email (excuse the line breaks)

Hey, got 7-11's last bottle of 2008:

Strictly speaking, Our Man's not qualified to comment on the quality of this ¥980 bottle of industrial Aussie cheap-and-cheerful plonk as he is only two-thirds of the way through the bottle. But he will say this: Is drinkable and is having an effect. But he can't say this: supercalafradulisticexpialidocious. But he can type it by George!
Can't vouch for this year's crap, er, crop. Bless you Eastwrn Australia and so on.
7 stars out of 12 from Our Man. Could do with a little more body, but then couldn't we all, eh readers?

Our Man's plea - I love you Blighty, but I've only got 96 hours to save the country

So, Blighty goes to the polls May 6th, huh? Well, Our Man won't.

Despite posturing that it's because he doesn't even have an old nag in the race (Although he is a registered voter in Margaret Beckett's seat, Derby South, ahem), it's actually because he can't. See this about voting by post (from here):

Eh? He's got to receive his postal ballot from the UK, tick on all the "none-of-the-above" boxes and bung it in the envelope licketty quick, pop it back in the post and pray it arrives back in downtown Derby all in 96 hours.

T'ain't gonna happen. (Unless it's delivered by Prius-post)

Well, he may consider a proxy voter, as the Electoral Commission helpfully suggests. OK, so who does Our Man trust to cast his vote for him? Well, there's his Old Man and Little Sister in Blighty, but he can't ask them to motor up the M1 on a Thursday night into strange (in oh-so-many-ways) territory to cast a vote in an election that he has no idea who to vote for anyway.

So, he won't be voting this election.

Unless...

You, dear reader, are an anarcho-liberal-traditionalist with feminist/pragmatic/Woody-Allenist tendencies - and promise to vote for whom in your heart you know Our Man should pick, oh, and you live in the Derby South constituency.

Any takers? Apply within, er, sharpish.

More (or less) thought on such matters, here.

Hanami (O, hanami)

Hanami, O hanami!

How hath I drunk to thine beauty,

And sung of thine fleetingness at kara-okeeee

Yet now find I only frustration left o'er;

For there appears no place for me to pee.

Hanami, O hanami!

What does it mean to me?

The cherry blossom's hue?

Or getting pissed on a sheet that I think is green, but everyone else says is blue?

Hanami, O hanami!

Your impact on Nihon is great;

From the distant peak of Mount Fuji

to the supermarket's cheese puffs, a snap at one-seventy-eight.

This is not an April Fool

As far as Our Man's concerned, every day's April Fools. But in honour of the occasion for folk who are serious the other 364 days a year, here is a real nonphotoshoped picture care of Our Little Sister in Abiko. It is a picture of course of the back of a school bus somewhere deep in the heart of the East Midlands. LET'S ALL RIDE THE BEAVER!