Showing posts with label 78641 MONSIEUR. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 78641 MONSIEUR. Show all posts
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Some Apologetic Moments from Japan.
OK, because I like to spread the love around like jam on a particularly sexy piece of burnt toast, I'm gonna deliver some lovin' to y'all in the motherfucking hard form this video! Why motherfucking? Well, because when it comes to apologies and all things fight wise, the Japanese are just so great. By the way, I just abhor unnecessary bad language.
So, imagine you did something mega bad, anything, the worst thing you can think of. And, depending on what you actually did, admitted to doing, left out of the official explication and what the do-ee actually feels, you may need to place an apology in his mental letter box. How would one go about righting the inevitable wrong that blackened your actions in the first place? Well, after self mutilation, flagellating and prayer to your chosen God, there is the polite bow. Shall we try the latter, less onanistic option? Let's make it so and move on with the bows!
See, if you choose to believe this lying video, put together by a bunch of surprisingly gifted humorists from Japan who actually have some humor in them, (Quite a rarity, to be honest!), the Japanese are so polite they'd break their own back just to prove their innocence and conviction of apologetic stance. Maybe, to a degree, you could believe them. I've seen plenty a person bowing in the street, in the course of their duties etc, and they look extremely sincere, for someone who is an expert at not giving anything away for the best possible reasons. (Inner self versus public self, a very Japanese concept, which is why the various levels of politeness came to be.)
Heck, that sarariman I always saw on my train used to bow as he was talking on the phone, something which I have been known to do on occasion. But if you really want to know about the extreme cases of bowing and apologetic attitudes in Japan, here's a very amusing place to start!
Le Mnsr
Monday, 3 August 2009
THE DREAM AND THE REALITY.
Readers, Le Monsieur has a dream.
In my dream, the people behind the dictionaries would categorise words that are apparently *offensive* as now not quite so offensive after all. The effect on society would be massive, but slow to take it's full toll on the people's conscience. I could potentially march around saying "Hey nigga!" to every cracker on the street and they be very unoffended. They would, in my imagination, respond with a very hearty "Yo cracker, wossup!" and we'd bond in the way that homies do, by playing loud music from our beatboxes and pretending to be Bob Marley's lost sons. Anything is possible in a dream!
What a dream it is. Well, Eminem's been living the dream for years now, dissing on all us whiteys who don't rap as if it's a prescription drug for Swine Flu. Hip Hop, whilst admittedly an *Urban Passtime* for kids with issues, was certainly built for a sociopath like Eminem, who, contrary to my vocab requisition, isn't on my Black List. I quite admire him, in his ability to send hate mail to Mariah Carey and get seemingly no criticism at all. Heck, if I did that, the cops would knock on my door and search house for any nipple clamps that happen to be strewn about like anything perfectly innocent. I'd probably be punished by having Mimi played non stop in my cell on a loop! But, all this urban stuff is making me feel rough, and there are other words that people dislike as much as the dictionaries, who are influencing them way too much to my mind.
See, the way I was raised, language is a tool with a definite purpose. For example, if you want someone to go away, suggesting politely that they are in the way won't work, and they are more likely to stay firmly in your way than move out of it. But telling them to F*ck off in a loud uncompromising manner will work more easily, I guarantee. Now, I'm not suggesting that you be like that to everyone, as you'll be mistaken for a rude fucker. This technique is reserved only for times of extreme irritation, and in places where guns and knives aren't commonplace. Point is though, I'm saying that our once effective communication lines are being hampered by words and phrases being constantly "outlawed" by people with more moral substance than sense.
Truth is, I love my dirty words as much as the next person does, but slowly they are being bled out of our societies media portrayed face and pretended out of existence by the ignorant sociopaths who control education these days. There are many teenagers who have no idea how to answer the questions on The Weakest Link, let alone the test they do at school, and the way it's changed our use of language is concerning, to say the least. Language changes, of course, and I love it, the English language is apparently the most expanding language in the world and I say let it expand, but don't cancel out the words you think society doesn't need! Very American, to put it mildly. It's amazing how words like disabled, once able to be uttered freely without fear of causing offense is slowly being turned into a swear word, and replaced with "special person", which is equally as offensive as calling someone a coon to my mind. There are numerous more examples of it, but I don't want to drone on for too long. Suffice to say, you can probably think of a few yourself!
The biggest problem it's causing though, is that swearing is now a form of humour ! It's not big, and it's not clever, and although I love etymology, swear words in particular, I'm not amused. What was once an expressive tool for anger, irony etc has become a controvertial non-issue that makes people ashamed of the words they heard as they wre growing up.
Le Monsieur
In my dream, the people behind the dictionaries would categorise words that are apparently *offensive* as now not quite so offensive after all. The effect on society would be massive, but slow to take it's full toll on the people's conscience. I could potentially march around saying "Hey nigga!" to every cracker on the street and they be very unoffended. They would, in my imagination, respond with a very hearty "Yo cracker, wossup!" and we'd bond in the way that homies do, by playing loud music from our beatboxes and pretending to be Bob Marley's lost sons. Anything is possible in a dream!
What a dream it is. Well, Eminem's been living the dream for years now, dissing on all us whiteys who don't rap as if it's a prescription drug for Swine Flu. Hip Hop, whilst admittedly an *Urban Passtime* for kids with issues, was certainly built for a sociopath like Eminem, who, contrary to my vocab requisition, isn't on my Black List. I quite admire him, in his ability to send hate mail to Mariah Carey and get seemingly no criticism at all. Heck, if I did that, the cops would knock on my door and search house for any nipple clamps that happen to be strewn about like anything perfectly innocent. I'd probably be punished by having Mimi played non stop in my cell on a loop! But, all this urban stuff is making me feel rough, and there are other words that people dislike as much as the dictionaries, who are influencing them way too much to my mind.
See, the way I was raised, language is a tool with a definite purpose. For example, if you want someone to go away, suggesting politely that they are in the way won't work, and they are more likely to stay firmly in your way than move out of it. But telling them to F*ck off in a loud uncompromising manner will work more easily, I guarantee. Now, I'm not suggesting that you be like that to everyone, as you'll be mistaken for a rude fucker. This technique is reserved only for times of extreme irritation, and in places where guns and knives aren't commonplace. Point is though, I'm saying that our once effective communication lines are being hampered by words and phrases being constantly "outlawed" by people with more moral substance than sense.
Truth is, I love my dirty words as much as the next person does, but slowly they are being bled out of our societies media portrayed face and pretended out of existence by the ignorant sociopaths who control education these days. There are many teenagers who have no idea how to answer the questions on The Weakest Link, let alone the test they do at school, and the way it's changed our use of language is concerning, to say the least. Language changes, of course, and I love it, the English language is apparently the most expanding language in the world and I say let it expand, but don't cancel out the words you think society doesn't need! Very American, to put it mildly. It's amazing how words like disabled, once able to be uttered freely without fear of causing offense is slowly being turned into a swear word, and replaced with "special person", which is equally as offensive as calling someone a coon to my mind. There are numerous more examples of it, but I don't want to drone on for too long. Suffice to say, you can probably think of a few yourself!
The biggest problem it's causing though, is that swearing is now a form of humour ! It's not big, and it's not clever, and although I love etymology, swear words in particular, I'm not amused. What was once an expressive tool for anger, irony etc has become a controvertial non-issue that makes people ashamed of the words they heard as they wre growing up.
Le Monsieur
Friday, 31 July 2009
THE EVER INCREASING MOUND OF LE MONSIEUR.
The ever increasing mound of free papers on my desk is threatening to either topple over and bury me like the rubble from an earthquake or bend desk irreparably into a weird shape. Solutions available? Well, as Confucius once said, he who tidies his desk will discover wisdom. (Very homocentric guy was Confucius...) But concerning the wisdom bit, he was right on the ball. See, there are wisdoms and wits just waiting to be stirred into brain stimulating activity in my gigantic pile, and despite my love for cleaning out, developed in small spaces in Tokyo where keeping tidy was de riguere, I haven't been able to bring my self to get rid of the legions of magazines in my apartment yet. In fact, I seem to be a bit of a prisoner to them!
My Stockholm syndrome like condition has me nodding in agreement as I read them, and occasionally laughing like a paralytic maniac at three am in Liverpool on Friday night on occasion! What kind of sweet trap have I let myself fall into so willingly? See, I'm a sucker for free things, and when I spotted a rather innocent looking magazine in Size the other day, giving me eyes like a desperate charity fund raiser, I just had to say "Yes! I will help the free magazine community by delving into the new issue of the new magazine Rader! Yay!" Well, I didn't really say that, I just picked it up, raised an eyebrow and slipped in into my bag to be read at a later minute. And, what a read it was. More of a look really, as it was big on imagery and somewhat more minimalistic with the actual words.
But any magazine that recommends you to visit Tokyo by virtue of the fact that there are many virgin otaku guys in Akihabara where fresh blood can be obtained by virtue of their, erm, virtue is definitely a class act! Heck, I'd rather have a blood donation from a mangafied virgin guy than some Shibuya backstreets girl who's had half the Crews in the area already, probably leaving them distinctly browner in the process! Of course, there are other reasons to visit Tokyo besides that, maybe there are some of you who prefer the Shibuya backstreets girls with more fake tan on than Jordan on a bad day to the otaku strewn wastelands of Akihabara. Personally, I'd prefer to go to Harajuku and try on some of the more bizarre items of couture, if I don't have to under go surgery to even be able to consider the putting on of these "kawaii" garments. But, that's just me. Le Monsieur is just of himself, after all.
But, in all seriousness, Rader has the snap, brightness and originality of concept that makes the best magazines what they are. Sure, they could have done with a translator with a bit less American in their brain, but that's forgivable for now. Afterall, it's not often one finds a Japanese free paper in a Liverpool boutique. Curiosity did indeed bite me in the right place, instead the orifice it usually nips into submission.
Le Monsieur
My Stockholm syndrome like condition has me nodding in agreement as I read them, and occasionally laughing like a paralytic maniac at three am in Liverpool on Friday night on occasion! What kind of sweet trap have I let myself fall into so willingly? See, I'm a sucker for free things, and when I spotted a rather innocent looking magazine in Size the other day, giving me eyes like a desperate charity fund raiser, I just had to say "Yes! I will help the free magazine community by delving into the new issue of the new magazine Rader! Yay!" Well, I didn't really say that, I just picked it up, raised an eyebrow and slipped in into my bag to be read at a later minute. And, what a read it was. More of a look really, as it was big on imagery and somewhat more minimalistic with the actual words.
But any magazine that recommends you to visit Tokyo by virtue of the fact that there are many virgin otaku guys in Akihabara where fresh blood can be obtained by virtue of their, erm, virtue is definitely a class act! Heck, I'd rather have a blood donation from a mangafied virgin guy than some Shibuya backstreets girl who's had half the Crews in the area already, probably leaving them distinctly browner in the process! Of course, there are other reasons to visit Tokyo besides that, maybe there are some of you who prefer the Shibuya backstreets girls with more fake tan on than Jordan on a bad day to the otaku strewn wastelands of Akihabara. Personally, I'd prefer to go to Harajuku and try on some of the more bizarre items of couture, if I don't have to under go surgery to even be able to consider the putting on of these "kawaii" garments. But, that's just me. Le Monsieur is just of himself, after all.
But, in all seriousness, Rader has the snap, brightness and originality of concept that makes the best magazines what they are. Sure, they could have done with a translator with a bit less American in their brain, but that's forgivable for now. Afterall, it's not often one finds a Japanese free paper in a Liverpool boutique. Curiosity did indeed bite me in the right place, instead the orifice it usually nips into submission.
Le Monsieur
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