ALSO BY KID ETHNIC:
100JapaneseThings.com
A collaborative site to help folks (and each other) find Japanese stuff.
The Alpaca Song
I wrote and recorded this for you. Because you need a song about alpacas, don’t you?
SEAWEED BREAKFAST
A weekly column about Japan for Glimpse.org.
Twitter
I twitter infrequently. But hope we can stay friends.
The Whiteboard Videos
Music+Whiteboard Markers+Friends=Good ways to spend weekends
The Annual Kid Ethnic Valentine
Because I love you so much.
KID ETHNIC IS WRITTEN BY:
saleem
who updates from Japan and sometimes India.
kidethnic@gmail.com
FROM THE START:
The Quarter-Japanese Kid hits up the homeland
Tokyo Silence
I'm Oriented
Tilting Towards Kumamoto
Fish Heads and Public Nudity
Halfie the Half-blood falls off his bike
And furthermore: Halfie the Half-blood Breaks a Chair
I Don't Know if I Like Pippi Longstalkings
Tanboy Eats Fish Eyeball
Japanese Communists are Cuddly
Test Your Halfblood Knowledge!
I Scare Small Children
It Was Like a Cuteworld Abby Road
Today's Post Contains Bees. And Profanity.
Typhoons Will Not Stop Me
The Sun Also Sets
Quick Note: Saleem is Not Dead
CORRECTION: Typhoons Scare Me. Lots.
Watch the Tan Kid Blush
Call for Entries: Name My Kids
The Youth Are Quick and True
Open Letter: To the Breaker at City Hall
Halfie Gets a Verbal Sucker Punch
The Kumamoto Drunken Horse Fest
Japanese Houses Hate Halfie's Head
How to Start Your Japanese Rock Band
Halfie's Personal Dignity on Decline
Japanese Sports Day: I Train Young Warriors
Theory: Three Strange Occurences Per Hour
How to Win an iPod While Dressed as a Typhoon
Winnie the (drunken) Pooh
The Earth Quakes
Collecting Japanese Salmon Sperm
Illiterate at 26
Japan's Children Ignore Homeboy's Toothless Face
Japanese Genius Boy Answers Your Question
Our Students Have Respect . For Nelly.
The Young Boxers
Dear 27% of America (Kid Ethnic Registers)
Please Do Not Attempt to Step to My Japanese Rock Band
Rock that bowler cap.
Rock that ‘stachey ‘stache.
Rock them ‘burns.
Rock that cane.
…but do not come in here with a cartoony micro-weather system following you. My people need sun.
Spotted in front of the Yachiyoza Theater in Yamaga, Kumamoto.
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BONUS WEB FRIENDLINESS EXPERIMENT:
Last year, my siblings and I made a ridiculous bit of puppetry and music for Father’s Day and put it on vimeo.com . This resulted in kind and friendly comments.
As an experiment, this year I’m Youtubing it.
I’m guessing this will result in comments fiercely mocking my (long-gone) beard.
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Dear Adults of the World,
You must answer for this thing:
It is understood that we are in struggle.
That you are as determined to make us eat our vegetables as we are determined to shove them under our napkins.
Or feed them to our pet rabbits.
Such is our nature, and the more intelligent among us understand that it is for the best.
Given a button that would wipe all adults from the face of the earth, we would not push this button. In some strange and twisted way, we need you as much as you need us.
We are in, a manner, of speaking, of the same kind. The same beings, merely temporally displaced.
We understand that we are doomed to become you.
And still we must fight.
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Among the most vicious of our confrontations have concerned when and in what quantities we might eat chocolate. It is perhaps the only one of our dietary desires that approaches our wish to cease ingesting vegetables.
And we are happy to engage in screaming matches on either topic.
But you, our gigantic, freakish, arch-enemies, you must understand that we can’t make things.
We can perhaps sneak chocolate, we might, in dire circumstances, steal chocolate. But the MAKING of chocolate, this is against our nature. We have not the resources.
Traditionally, the battle has been over resource allocation.
We did not expect from you, this asymmetrical warfare, this burning and pillaging of our sustenance before it has reached our eyes, much less melted in our mouths and hands.
This is the stuff of nightmares: the mythical razor in our holiday candy, the organ thief in the night, the rats fried among chicken.
The vegetables in our chocolate.
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While we do not wish to threaten, we would like to remind you that we, especially in the developing nations, decidedly outnumber you.
We have not resorted to such techniques as mass coordinated biting, which, due to new technologies, those at the upper-bound of our designation (but not yet in those guerilla tween years), have the technological know-how to organize.
And we do not wish to resort to such tactics.
We are just saying.
We are hereby officially asking you to cease these tactics. If we must fight, and we are willing to allow that we must, let us fight clean.
Your future,
The Children
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Over the top, admittedly. But I saw this vegetable chocolate in the discount rack (surprising?) at the local convenience store and had to buy it. The taste was not a sensation that a child would enjoy.
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I make many, many, language mistakes. I don’t knock folks who make errors.
But I appreciate their occasional beauty.
My people, when you leave the house, you must remember this one thing: Rock.
Always and forever.
Spotted on the door of a near empty thirty buck a night hotel in Ashikita, Japan. Highly recommended.
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Here’s a link to a link to a big Page One.
If people like them, I’ll make more.
And more and more and more. And then I’ll stop. When I’m dead.
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My friend filled my glass, and began to explain his theory (roughly translated from Japanese). *
“The most important thing in a relationship isn’t if you fight, it’s if you overcome your fights,” he said. “If you and your girlfriend successfully overcome 17 fights, then you know you are okay.”“But if, for example, one decides to break up with a girl with whom one’s already overcome 17 fights, well that person is in for a lot of work.”
“Let’s say, for example, that you and your girlfriend have overcome more than seventeen fights, but, just for example, you meet some girl that you think you might like more than your current girlfriend. So you you break up with your current girlfriend.”
“You and your new girlfriend have a fight, but you make up. So you think you are okay. But you don’t even know anything yet. You have another fight, but you still don’t know anything yet.”
“You’re just stuck waiting until you’ve had 17 fights with your new girlfriend, and that’s the only time that you can even start comparing her to your old girlfriend.”
So there you have it. The Rule of 17 Fights.
* SLIGHTLY PARANOID DISCLAIMER:
As I feel the need to mention quite often on this blog, most everything here is a touch blurred by the double haze of translation and memory. But I do my best.
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In the front yard with the new toy camera. This excellent being is pretending to be a monkey…
When your camera looks ridiculous, ridiculous subjects run towards you.
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BONUS TIP (from experience!):
If you are ever curious as to what your foreign accent sounds like, might I suggest you call upon your neighbor’s children’s friends to mock you?
They will do so without fear. Amusing! Humbling! Educational.
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The RULES:
Everyone who comes should debut some kind of little movie they made.
Anything counts, as long as you’re debuting it ( World Premieres Only!)
Make it with your cell phone. Make it with a $3000 camera. Make a flip book out of your best student’s English journal. Hold up three polaroids and move them in front of our face in rapid succession.
Anything counts.
I will be especially ecstatic if someone shows up with a zoetrope.
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RATHER WRITERLY BONUS:
I’m writing a weekly column over on glimpse.org .
For starters, here’s a sort of travel manifesto called The Earthquake and the Cardigan.
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* * *
Arm straight as cane
All hell
Lined up.
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Photo taken on the beach in Miyazaki.
I admit it: I still don’t understand the game.
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* * *
A project filmed in the kitchen over break.
Took a little challenge from a dude named Ramit:
‘Make a vid that encourages people to save early. With lots of data.’
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Stats:
Saving 100/mo over a period of ten years and then having the total continue to grow for 30 more years – age 35 to 65 (assuming avg annual rate of return on investment of 8%).
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* * *
The very tiny boy approached me in the yard.
“Can you do any magic?” he asked, in Japanese.
I thought maybe I had shown him a coin trick one time. “Maybe,” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Can you turn an apple into a watermelon?”
“Huh?”
“Last week, I saw a guy on TV. He could turn things into things. He turned an apple into a watermelon.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. What’s that in the bag? Is it an apple?”
I had just returned from shopping.
“Ah, no. Sorry. It’s a loaf of bread.”
“Can you turn it into something else?”
I apologized and told him I couldn’t. “But,” I said, “I might be able to if I practice. Maybe I’ll go inside and do that now.”
This response seemed to satisfy the child.
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AND FURTHERMORE:
A thing recently placed upon my table…
Wagashi, does your cuteness know no upper-bound?
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