Just when we’ve recovered from our last shilang-alang, we decide to see if we can do one better.
We failed.
We also realized that I’m autistically retarded when it comes to using this new digital camera. I’ll show you. Shortly.
Speaking of shortly, I welcome you back to the city of the Japan. Land of many Japanese. To work, yes. But primarily to see how many Japanese stereotypes I could identify and poke fun of. This time was different though. This time, I brought with me an unbiased source. We’ll call her, ‘Colleague.’ Internet, meet Colleague. Colleague, Internet.
Turns out, Colleague is a pure-bred, Canadian-born Japanese, German expat. That was a lot, I know. Check back in when you’re ready.
First thing I wanted to test was their obedience. If you’ve ever seen movies like Lost in Translation or Fast & the Furious: Tokyo Drift, you’d realize that Lost in Translation had superior casting, a warm story line that, though didn’t seem to go too far, captured the hearts and inquisitive minds of both those who have been to Tokyo and those who have dared stayed away, as well as an apparent lack of scantily-clad co-eds whose only true purpose is to make the shotty construction of a souped-up Dodge Neon seem desirable and inspire envious awe. Hookers.
None the less, we’re young. And curious. Like a teenage boy puppy with a box full of nudie magazines. We wanted to see if our Japanese colleagues would bow down to this whitely western foreigner and obey as if they were back in grade school. Disciplined. Obedient. Submissive. My bitches.
Boo-ya.
You’ll notice the one in the foreground with his finger inching towards his nose. A quick snap of my bamboo nun-chucks to the forehead alleviated that desire.
Onward.
This one deserves special mention. Though not as exciting as the pounding, earthquake resembling footsteps of your typical autistic Japanese man running down the hall to catch the ringing phone, but still, just as special.
We always wondered why we never saw any fires in Tokyo. Have you ever seen any fires in Tokyo? Of course not. It’s because of innovations like these. If you Americans ever get your shit together, not only will you know where the water is, but you’ll know what direction to shoot it. The Japanese are innovators. Thought leaders. Hell, where do you think Ninjas come from?
Next one. And this one’s my favourite. We were always suspect that the Japanese aimed to please. Not just perpetually. But efficiently. Like the aforementioned Ninja. While this innovation might promote mass murder in the U.S., it provided for some exceptionally prompt service. Which was good, because oh Heavenly Baby Jesus was this quite possibly the best meal I’ve ever had. And food like that deserves to be brought to my table pronto, Bitch.
Upward. This was a fun little game we decided to play whilst waiting for the train. We called it, ‘Find Our Japanese Colleague in a Sea of Japanese People.’ It’s similar to Where’s Waldo, but there isn’t any scroll. Just Colleague. Sorry for the blurriness. I was finding.
Can you find?
Our final stereotype along this rocky road of Japanese stereotypes was how people assumed that just because Colleague looked Japanese, she spoke Japanese. It began on the flight over. We hadn’t detached from the gate and they were initiating discourse in foreign tongue, whilst I portrayed the nervous, insecure white man dreading the impending first-time introduction to her Japanese family. How inappropriate to pigeon-hole Colleague just because of her appearance.
We failed.
We also realized that I’m autistically retarded when it comes to using this new digital camera. I’ll show you. Shortly.
Speaking of shortly, I welcome you back to the city of the Japan. Land of many Japanese. To work, yes. But primarily to see how many Japanese stereotypes I could identify and poke fun of. This time was different though. This time, I brought with me an unbiased source. We’ll call her, ‘Colleague.’ Internet, meet Colleague. Colleague, Internet.
Turns out, Colleague is a pure-bred, Canadian-born Japanese, German expat. That was a lot, I know. Check back in when you’re ready.
First thing I wanted to test was their obedience. If you’ve ever seen movies like Lost in Translation or Fast & the Furious: Tokyo Drift, you’d realize that Lost in Translation had superior casting, a warm story line that, though didn’t seem to go too far, captured the hearts and inquisitive minds of both those who have been to Tokyo and those who have dared stayed away, as well as an apparent lack of scantily-clad co-eds whose only true purpose is to make the shotty construction of a souped-up Dodge Neon seem desirable and inspire envious awe. Hookers.
None the less, we’re young. And curious. Like a teenage boy puppy with a box full of nudie magazines. We wanted to see if our Japanese colleagues would bow down to this whitely western foreigner and obey as if they were back in grade school. Disciplined. Obedient. Submissive. My bitches.
Boo-ya.
You’ll notice the one in the foreground with his finger inching towards his nose. A quick snap of my bamboo nun-chucks to the forehead alleviated that desire.
Onward.
This one deserves special mention. Though not as exciting as the pounding, earthquake resembling footsteps of your typical autistic Japanese man running down the hall to catch the ringing phone, but still, just as special.
We always wondered why we never saw any fires in Tokyo. Have you ever seen any fires in Tokyo? Of course not. It’s because of innovations like these. If you Americans ever get your shit together, not only will you know where the water is, but you’ll know what direction to shoot it. The Japanese are innovators. Thought leaders. Hell, where do you think Ninjas come from?
Next one. And this one’s my favourite. We were always suspect that the Japanese aimed to please. Not just perpetually. But efficiently. Like the aforementioned Ninja. While this innovation might promote mass murder in the U.S., it provided for some exceptionally prompt service. Which was good, because oh Heavenly Baby Jesus was this quite possibly the best meal I’ve ever had. And food like that deserves to be brought to my table pronto, Bitch.
Upward. This was a fun little game we decided to play whilst waiting for the train. We called it, ‘Find Our Japanese Colleague in a Sea of Japanese People.’ It’s similar to Where’s Waldo, but there isn’t any scroll. Just Colleague. Sorry for the blurriness. I was finding.
Can you find?
Our final stereotype along this rocky road of Japanese stereotypes was how people assumed that just because Colleague looked Japanese, she spoke Japanese. It began on the flight over. We hadn’t detached from the gate and they were initiating discourse in foreign tongue, whilst I portrayed the nervous, insecure white man dreading the impending first-time introduction to her Japanese family. How inappropriate to pigeon-hole Colleague just because of her appearance.
