On 30 Jun 2004 18:19:18 -0700, Brett Robson <jet_boy@deja.com> brought
down from the Mount tablets inscribed:

>On Wed, 30 Jun 2004 19:08:49 +0900, Michael Cash  ...
>>
>>On 30 Jun 2004 01:58:35 -0700, Brett Robson <jet_boy@deja.com> brought
>>down from the Mount tablets inscribed:
>>
>>>On 29 Jun 2004 23:41:14 -0700, Mike Hobson  ...
>>>>
>>>>
>>>>==========================================================
>>>> "Ah yes, we must mollify angry fanatics who seek our destruction 
>>>>because otherwise .. they might get mad and seek our destruction."
>>>>- Ann Coulter 9/26/2002
>>>
>>>
>>>I had a Ann Coulter sig once but people didn't realise it was a joke. You might
>>>liek to reconsider it as well, Americans just don't get sarcasm and will assume
>>>you really agree with her.
>>
>>Made sense to me.
>>
>>A few months ago I got a chance to listen to one of her books on mp3.
>>I loved it.
>>
>
>Some of the best stand up I have ever heard.
>
>Apart from your tabaka chewing habit and banjo playing, you are one of the least
>Seppo-teki Seppos I know. Your mate up the road from me is probably even less
>Seppo-teki than you.

I don't actually play the banjo. I just wish I could and admire people
who do play the banjo well (yeah, but how can you tell?....)

I am secure enough in Seppo-tekiness that I don't feel a need to wear
it on my sleeve or rub it in the face of those little enough beloved
of the Lord to not have received the Supreme Blessing of being
Sepponians themselves. Perhaps in their next lives.

Semi-abrupt focus shift:

One of the places I go to every now and then to unload has a guy who
is, how shall I charitably phrase it...., somewhat socially backwards.
Consequently, he has reached middle-age apparently without having had
any luck with the homegrown chicks. He has become a devotee of
Filipina clubs, and I presume he is diligently working toward someday
procuring a spouse from one. No problem with that. One of the guys
where I work is married to a Filipina lady whom I presume he met at
such a place. Difference is that the guy I work with is a normal,
pleasant, personable guy with normal, pleasant, personable social
skills who just happens to be married to a Filipina lady whom he,
presumably, met at a club.

The guy where I unload, though, ever since he started haunting the
clubs has become a fucking albatross around my neck. He is the
persistent gravy stain on the necktie of my existence. I'm his fucking
free eikaiwa dude. And I can't tell him to fuck off and leave me
alone. Everytime I go there, he comes over and asks me some bizarre
shit. One time he comes up with "How is your sister?" I guess that's
something he picked up at Nova or somewhere and he just learned it by
rote. God knows I never told him I have a sister. Then another time he
comes up with a bunch of katakana shit jotted down on a piece of paper
and asks me what they all mean. Problem was, 90% of them didn't mean a
fucking thing, and wouldn't have even if I had had some context for
them. He just copied down what his Nova teacher said, or his closest
approximation of what the teacher said. Some seemed to span words, so
that that the katakana string would start with the ass end of one
English word, contain all of another one, and then finish with the
first part of another. Hey, dude....You wanna know what this shit
means, ask your fucking teacher!

Then today, he comes up and asks me what the difference is between
America and Japan. Like I'm supposed to give some sort of concise
answer in a single sentence or something. My initial reaction was,
"there is no difference" immediately followed by "there are no
similarities, so how the hell can I answer this concisely?"....while
thinking those two thoughts, I just sat there silently with a confused
look on my face. More so than normal, I mean.

The worst part is, I actually *like* all the other people at this
place and except for this guy's presence I actually like going there.





--

Michael Cash

"I am sorry, Mr. Cash, but we are unable to accept your rap sheet in lieu of
a high school transcript."

                                Dr. Howard Sprague
                                Dean of Admissions
                                Mount Pilot College