I Don't Remember What Happened

I saw a couple of movies last week and they were pretty good. I remember what I meant to write because I wrote down the details on some vanity post-it notes that my aunt brought back from Hawaii. Sorry, but I'm running out of photos to add to my posts. I've asked that Foxy take less Jabba-the-Huttish photos in the future. Ali is quick to defend the photos, pointing out that the growth charts provided by Kyoto First Red Cross indicate that Foxy's size is only average. Skype Video stills function rocks, but Skype VOIP sucks.

After I watched the films, I went out with Orange Peel and J for an evening of consumption. Stupidly high levels of consumption. After leaving the greek restaurant, we went across the street. I was thinking that we were going to head up Christopher Street to catch the train back to Newark, but I must have been wrong. I stopped to pet these two wolf-cross pups that I recognized from Ali's shop and then quickly realized that I had been separated from OP and J. I panicked. I don't know how far up Chris I got, but I remember losing my footing and going down hard. I scuffed up my wedding band pretty bad, ruined my favourite pair of Mavi's, and took a nasty case of road rash. I remember sitting up and refusing assistance. I didn't want to go to the hospital because I still haven't got insurance.

The next thing I remember is singing a nasty song about security guards in the lift in my building. As I sit here listening to Frank Black's selection on BBC 6 Music's 6 Mix and balancing my chequebook, the paper trail shows quite clearly that I paid for a train ticket. That makes me wonder how gooned I really was. I couldn't have been that far gone because I would have had to remember a PIN and manage to punch it into the keypad without fatfingering it, and then recognize the correct station to get off at. That nasty encounter with the tarmac must have caused temporary memory loss, because there is about an hour's gap that I don't remember. If it was the result of intoxication, then how could I have functioned so well and managed not to get mugged, or worse?

I spent the next few days nursing various scrapes and bruises, feeling a bit like Colin from The Brittas Empire, who by the way had the best Welsh accent going on TV. I will say though, that the best Welsh speaker on the BBC in my opinion is Gruff Rhys from Super Furry Animals. Not that I listen to Radio Cymru or anything. As for OP and J, they left me at the wolf-cross pups, and went into the bar.

I think I have a new favourite director, at least for 1970s Japanese cinema. Kinji Fukasaku directed Batoru rowaiaru and is probably best known to Western audiences for that. He came from the same city, and was born at about the same time as one of Ali's grandfathers, so he can't have been all that bad. I saw Yakuza no hakaba: Kuchinashi no hana or Yakuza Graveyard. I know, the translation makes no sense, but this is only one of the English titles they used. The film stars my favourite Japanese actress Meiko Kaji as a half-Korean wife of a Yakuza leader. While her husband is in prison, possibly getting pearls buried in his bellend, she is in charge of the organization. There has been a recent rise in yakuza activity in the city, which has embarrassed officials so they have decided to crack down on gambling. They recruit Kuroiwa, played by Tetsuya Watari to broker a peace between the rival gangs. Kuroiwa is the clichéd "tough as nails" cop who has been transferred back into his unit after being cleared by internal affairs. He quickly makes friends with Keiko, played by Kaji and starts an affair with her. She doesn't mind, her husband thinks she's a whore already. She gets no respect from the organization because she is not full Japanese, but finds an unexpected ally in one of the underbosses who, although he has lived his entire life in Japan, is full Korean. The underboss makes a pact with Kuroiwa, who is now too far into the organization that he risks dismissal. The underboss is killed, and Kuroiwa feels that he has lost a brother. The cop goes through a series of internal conflicts, but eventually Kuroiwa decides that the yakuza are his real friends and resigns from his job, but not before he wastes two of his superiors who are corrupt. As he walks out of police headquarters, he is gunned down in front of Keiko. I grew up in the 1970s and this is exactly the kind of stuff they used to show on television in shows like Kojak and others. I was right at home watching this and wanted to watch more. Luckily for me, the video shop has plenty of Fukasaku's work for rent.

Now to the post-it notes: I rented Joshuu sasori: Dai-41 zakkyo-bô or Female Convict Scorpion Jailhouse 41, the sequel to Joshuu 701-gô: Sasori. Of course, this stars Meiko Kaji who curiously says nothing until the penultimate scene of the movie. Kaji plays Matsu, the incorrigible prisoner who is chained in a pit in the basement of the prison. She is released into the general population while a dignitary visits. She refuses to bend and during the confusion, her fellow inmates who hate her decide to riot. The riot is quelled, and the inmates are punished. The warden decides that he has to teach a lesson to the inmates so he tries to make an example of Matsu. He sends a group of officers to gang rape her while she is working in a prison quarry. During the ride back to the prison, the other female prisoners attack her, I guess because they hate themselves that much or something. One of the prisoners is convinced that Matsu is dead and persuades the guards to stop the van. As they open the back of the van, the females overpower the males and pretty much flee. One guy is shot to death or choked out and the other bleeds out after the inmates use his crotch as a posthole. Prolific but very unconvincing use of tomato sauce in this scene.

The group of seven inmates manage to find refuge in a shack at a coal mine. There they discover a mysterious old woman who feels that she is cause of the evil things that these inmates have done. A note on the continuity here: They find the woman in a shack that collapses in a windstorm. The next time we see the old lady, the shack has been rebuilt around her. I forget what happens to the old lady, but a police dog flushes out the inmates. They manage to flee to a town where they hide in a workshed. There's a lot of lesbian wrestling in the background in this scene, and they somehow take a hostage. When the police come looking for the hostage, one of the inmates gets shot and bleeds out later under a waterfall as they run from the police. Symbolically, the waterfall turns red. The remaining six inmates encounter a busload of tourists, some of whom chase down one of the girls and gang rape her and accidentally drown her. They toss her over the falls. When the remaining inmates discover her body, the river turns red. They manage to hijack the tour bus and take their inadequate revenge on the three guys who killed their friend. A disagreement occurs between the leader and Matsu, and they toss her out of the bus. They use the bus to negotiate police roadblocks, kinda like that Clint Eastwood movie, but eventually high-centre on the verge. The police send Matsu in to try and convince the inmates to surrender. She goes in, but promises the leader that she's as good as dead. She goes back to the police and tells them that she could do nothing. The chick with the rifle runs out of ammunition and the police take the four remaining inmates into custody.

Somehow, Matsu escapes and hunts down the warden who is preparing to retire in order to exact her revenge. She appears in her trademark black hat, and I totally forget what happened. I think she tries to blind the warden's other eye, or she kills him. Maybe she gets caught, I don't know. As the closing credits roll, the theme song plays, the very same song, and version even that Quentin Tarantino "borrowed" for Kill Bill. Another musical mention: Shunsuke Kikuchi scored original music for this film. He is apparently very adept at using the mouth organ. The film was released through Toei Company, the company with perhaps the best strip logo in the business. Best ever.

A Wasted Trip

I suppose it had to happen eventually. I ended up with two really bad movies last week. I thought I would be cheeky and get some rentals on Wednesday, when the rates are cheap. Well, I probably should have stayed home and saved a couple bucks. The first one was Archangel starring Daniel Craig. The box cover said this was going to be an intriguing spy mystery with shocking results. Well, I found out later that it was a made-for-television two part miniseries and that probably explains the absolute lack of intrigue and cliff hangers. Briefly, the film follows the story of a Danish historian who is an expert on Stalinist Soviet Union. He hears about a diary that promises to reveal a side of Stalin that not many people knew before. So far, so good. The story continues to lead the professor, the daughter of his initial contact, and a plucky reporter on a journey to Archangel where they would find the son of Stalin. This is all intermixed with a political understory which claims that Russia is waiting for the return of Communism, in particular the return of Stalin or his son. Pretty weak. Maybe it's because I like car chases or whatever, because there were none in this movie. Anyway, the daughter and the professor know that Stalin cannot return to power. They are taken to a rally where supporters of the new Stalin are waiting. The daughter is able to move around the rally unnoticed and climbs a staircase where she can get a clear shot at Stalin with her dad's Makarov. I guess a headshot would have been too graphic for British television. Stalin takes one to the chest and the rise of Communism is finished before it starts again. I forget exactly how long this film was, but it sure took a long time to work up to such a quick, neat ending. Weak.

The next film I watched was Kaidan nobori ryu. One of it's many English titles is The Blind Woman's Curse. I'm not going to hide it, I fell asleep during this movie. The original draw to this film was Meiko Kaji, who would go on a few years later to film Joshuu 701-gô: Sasori or Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion. She also lost a lot of weight because it wasn't until after the film that I could figure out which character she was. Probably the only other notable bit is the appearance of Yoshi Kato. He plays Jutaro Mitsui, a noodle shop owner and I think a former member of the Tachibana clan. Many years later, Kato would play the noodle-making master in Juzo Itami's Tampopo. In Kaidan nobori ryu, Kaji plays Akemi Tachibana the new leader of the Tachibana clan. Some years before she tried to avenge the death of her father and probably did. It's hard to follow the sword play, that's one of the things that makes this movie so bad. She ends up cutting a young woman across the face and blinds her. A black cat laps the blood from the girl's face and haunts Akemi for the rest of it's life. There's a secondary story line where one of the Tachibana clan makes a deal with a new clan to use a third gang to defeat the Tachibana clan and destroy itself in the process. A kind stranger comes to the aid of the hapless Tachibana gang and ends up foiling the plan. The blinded woman has sworn to find Akemi and kill her. She has a hunchback who follows her around and helps her, but one day he goes a little to far and is banished by the blind woman. She meets up with Akemi and the stage is set for a duel. The black cat distracts Akemi and the blind woman cuts her, right across the eyes of the dragon in the tattoo on her back. Symbolism. Weak. Akemi asks the blind woman to finish her, but the blind woman takes pity. I think that's the end. It ended abruptly anyway. Apparently, there is quite a bit of humour in this film, but I didn't see any. All I remember is the really bad sword play, and the stupid cat which is hilariously fake in many shots. Hmmm, I guess there was some humour after all. This film was good for a nap and that's about it. I'm still a fan of Meiko Kaji, just like my mother-in-law who knows Kaji as an Enka singer. She's more famous that way.

Introducing Pepper and Saying Goodbye to the Neighbours

As first hinted in my last post, I was getting rid of Baby in favour of something more practical. This is Pepper, the German model I mentioned. I actually choked up a little when I had one last look through the Jeep. I had made that purchase with the full intention of putting a million miles on the legendary straight six design that Jeep brought back for that year. Well, only Cherokees and Libertys are suitable for families with infants. Any other Jeep is considered a soft top and I can't legally anchor a baby seat in my old Wrangler. I try to think about the other side of the issue and then I don't feel so stupid. Foxy's safety is paramount. So on top of getting a vehicle with a roof, I got one that Ali could drive when she so fancies, and I got one that is technically better on fuel. And there were at least three occasions where I could have driven away without paying the difference for Pepper. I had the pink slip, I had the insurance transferred and I had the keys. I really wanted to see what would happen, but my sense of honesty got the better of me. I waited until the salesman walked away, and then called him back to tell him I still hadn't paid. We both went upstairs to the business manager and I cut a cheque for them. I was really impressed with Volkswagen up to that point and I didn't want it to sour.

Pepper's got quite a lot of room, another bonus over the Wrangler. I can fit myself, Ali, Foxy, the stroller, the megapack of disposable diapers from Costco and the hypothetical dog all in. There won't be a dog, for as long as I have my very acute sense of smell. Here's a look from the left, and then the right.


























I took Pepper (oooh, I nearly typed Baby) out to see Bobby and his boss. "What's the difference between a cactus and a Volkswagen, Dax?" I've come to expect jokes from Bobby's boss, and considering he runs a Maserati shop, the jokes will be on me or my car until I buy one from him. I didn't know the answer. "A cactus has pricks on the OUTside. You bought yourself a Jokes-wagen, kid". He calls me kid, even though he's probably less than ten years older than me. "But it's a good car, and you got the baby now".

I drove out to visit Sissy and Enzo J for a little bit and snap some more photos. Enzo J is getting pretty big now, and he's quite a social lad. Here's Pepper during a visit to Enzo J's house:



















The dealership just called to advise that they overcharged me on the purchase. Sweet! That's why you should always be honest in matters financial. I'm richer than I expected to be.

Imagine shlepping halfway around the world with everything you own, oh and a toddler and a three-month old because your husband got a new job in the colonies. A bit of a shakeup I guess, but then imagine having to truck it all back plus two kids and a looming divorce all because the guy you followed dutifully around the world couldn't keep it in his pants. On the way to the dealership this morning, I noticed my very nice neighbour moving house. I got the story and I felt really, really angry. I had hoped that Foxy would be able to make friends with two very adorable Japanese kids in the same block of flats. I was mostly angry though because of what my good friend was being forced to do by no fault of her own. Her daughters are very disappointed in their father, and I hope he pays for it the rest of his life. I'm a little sensitive to these things. I have a great wife, he has a great wife. I have a young daughter, he has two. Why would a guy whose got a great family smash it like that?

What's the Frequency, Kenneth?

I was hoping that this post would be a little more sentimental, but that's life in Jersey. A few months ago, I was informed that child car seats are not permitted in Jeep Wranglers, and to make sure that somebody like me doesn't put one in anyway, Chrysler doesn't put the seat anchors in, as permitted by the NTSB. So, I've had to buy a new car.

I took Baby out this evening to break the news. I felt a little bit like the time we had to take Duke to the vet one last time. I used the "It's not you, it's me" speech, but it wasn't too bad. Baby had noticed my wandering eye, and knew it was only a matter of time. I had brought my new camera to take some last photos of Baby before I sent her off to the knackers.

Baby wanted to know about the other car, but I refused to discuss Pepper, the sleek German model I was about to make it official with. Nothing positive would come from that conversation. We laughed, and we cried, and then it was time to take the photos.
Here's where it all became a little surreal: I got one shot off, when a rather irate individual came up and asked what I was taking photos of. I told him, and then he told me I should have asked his permission first and demanded to see the photo. I showed him -
As you can see, he is nowhere in the photo. He was clearly agitated about something, and accused me of trying to take his photo for a website he called "Babyfuckers of Czechoslovakia". I could have been an asshole and asked him if he was indeed a babyfucker, but the situation was escalating well enough on its own, so I went the other way with the more intelligent "That's unusual, you don't sound Czech". I reminded him that I was in a public place and that I was entitled to take photos of anything I could see. Quizzically, he told me that we were not in Russia, and that he had the right to walk in the street without his photograph being taken. At this point, it occurred to me that he was a pedophile, because obviously only a person who is a babyfucker would think that that is what the general public thought of them. In any event, he was definitely somebody who had been to prison. A police car drove by and rather than flag it down and tell them that his rights were being violated, he turned away so they wouldn't see his face. He continued to goad me until I finally told him that if he had a problem, he should speak to Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. I reached in through the passenger window and opened my glovebox. A bluff, of course. He didn't know what to do with himself so he threatened to take down my plate. I welcomed his enthusiasm. He did nothing in the end, but as he walked off I snapped a photo of his out of state plate. In Jersey, you never know.

Bye Bye Baby.

Free Movie Time

I won a double pass to a preview screening of Sicko by Michael Moore last week, but of course it wasn't really a sneak preview. I asked Bobby if he wanted to come, he had to work of course. So I asked Randy. He's usually good for a few free beers and a movie, but not this time. He had already seen the movie a few days before on youtube. So I went by myself, and I got there late so it was a good thing because finding two seats together was impossible. I ended up sitting next to a gay couple who were quite friendly, well at least the one closest to me was. The opening scene of the movie is perhaps the most graphic, and the old queen sitting next to me almost fainted. I advised him that this was only the beginning of the film and that he should think about watching the rest of it. He stayed for the whole thing and touched my knee gently at the closing credits. I'm pretty sure it was an accident, so I didn't say anything plus his boyfriend looked to be a very jealous type. It was an honest mistake - my stylist gave me a free haircut because of all the free goodies I brought her from Japan, but she gave me the "extra gay" cut. I didn't tip. Twenty-five percent of zero is still zero.

I'm not going to critique the film because it is a documentary. It's done in the usual Michael Moore style and has a few funny moments, but I just want to say that he does skew the facts a little bit in his favour. I happen to know, thanks to our fair brethren to the north that the Canadian health system is not as good as Mr. Moore paints it. The truth is, he covered the health system in the province of Ontario which just so happens to be the best in that country. My friends on the west coast and on the Canadian prairies tell me that even though Moore says that health care is totally free (it may be in Ontario), it is not the case in Vancouver. Each taxpayer is required to pay a monthly fee for basic coverage, and in one of the prairie provinces (I forget which), a for-profit health care system is already available for those who can afford it. I'm also pretty sure that he simplifies the French case. So you see, while the health care systems in Canada, Great Britain, France and Cuba may be better than the systems in the States, they are not necessarily free. I still believe that the point Moore is trying to make comes across loud and clear, despite a few inaccuracies and am amused that the anti-Moore camp focuses the majority of it's attention on the coverage of the Cuban health care system. They can't argue with the NHS, and ignore the French and the Canadians. For good reason I say, generally. Fucking Socialists. I never really thought about it, but I guess my own little example of free health care never would have been possible had she been born in New Jersey. Technically, Japan does not have a free health care system - it's very much like the States, but at least in Japan infants get a free pass. Foxy has changed so much since the above photo. That was taken when she was a week old. Now she's looking more and more like Jabba the Hut with a toupée, little by little each day.

I sent some Vermont chocolates back to Japan for my mother-in-law because she got some as a gift when she came to the wedding and wanted more. How could I deny? The package was opened by Customs officials because they suspected an explosive device. Apparently, they did not sample any of the fine chocolate from the Green Mountain State. It may have been a good thing, because when my father-in-law sampled a piece, he lost a dental filling. It's a good thing he's got insurance.

I spent the weekend before the Fourth camping with Bobby, his boss' family and some important clients in Vermont. Fifteen people in all. It was the first time I'd been camping in many years and it was the first time that I was able to use my tent, the five-year service gift I received from a certain employer. It was actually quite large and I fancied taking Foxy and Ali camping next time around. How young is too young to go camping?