Lots of Monkeys

So, as an exercise of my own fair use policy, I’ve purchased import CDs from Japan and ripped them to my hard drive at work. This is done so that I can listen to the music that I’ve bought without having to shuttle the CDs back and forth. However, these are Japanese CDs, and when the information about the CD came up, only black squares appeared where there should have been kanji, katakana, hiragana, etc. You’ve seen them before in corrupt word documents and whatnot.

Naturally, I figured that the characters couldn’t be displayed because I didn’t have East Asian Language support installed on my machine.

So I installed East Asian Language support for the machine at work. Twenty minutes later, I rebooted, and lo and behold–

I spent twenty minutes to install western characters. Ah well. Can’t be helped.

The artist featured above is Ayumi Hamasaki, one of the most successful Japanese pop stars I think, ever.

As an American of Filipino ancestry, I find myself burdened by my own skin.

There are times when I look at my country and I know–that a good majority of its ruling class would consider me inferior because of the color of my skin. It’s not a good feeling. The truth hurts.

Enter the Military Order of the Carabao. “Carabao,” in tagalog, translates to “water buffalo.” Now, you’re probably wondering what goes on at events that they throw. Well, the Village Voice has this article that details their Annual Wallow, which is held each year on the Saturday closest to February 4, the date of the Philippine Insurrection. They also go into detail about this oft glossed over period of American history, during which the United States purchases the Philippines from Spain. That however, is a different post. On to the Annual Wallow. Read the article? Good.

Everyone, say hello to the the men in charge of our military. Feel better? I know I do. I feel even better, knowing that the Department of Homeland Security has moved literally, across the street. I walk home that way sometimes. Part of me says that this will impact nothing. Part of me imagines armed guards accosting me on the walk home (inexplicably with German accents) and asking me, “Papers. . . Please.”

I want to go down the Omni Shoreham and see if this order really exists. I just want to see, with my own eyes. I want to read the black plastic board with the white plastic letters that never seem straight enough.

I’m afraid though. I’m afraid that I’ll read:

Military Order of the Carabao
Pacific Ballroom
POSITIVELY NO FILIPINOS ALLOWED

Seventy-three years later, I still carry the burden of skin.

Some people ask me why I have a television, but no antenna or cable hookup. To those people, I present this:

Julietz80: Praxis, wanna have dinner?
Julietz80: oh wait, shoot, the 70’s show
Julietz80: nevermind :-p
Praxis Loki: This is why I hate television.

Yep. That about sums it up.

No, I’m not dead, I was just under the weather.

So yeah, that football thing was great. Good commercials. Some “Pirate” team won, I think. I’m not really sure. The only thing I’m sure of is that there was a lot of chili, and I don’t make enough chili in my life.

So.

I’m watching that Matrix trailer. That one. The one with the Agent Smiths. Plural. Yeah. I think I’m in line now. There are six months between the two movies. The thing is this: The first sequel ends in a cliff hanger. Filmus Interruptus, as it were. So the big question is, wait a few months and then watch it, so I only have to wait three months on edge instead of six? Or just watch the damn thing opening night and then wait the six months.

Yes, I have hard decisions to make.

On the other hand, that Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle (changed the name from “Halo”–I don’t blame them, considering how they’d be running into a Microsoft product of the same name) trailer looks fantastic. I like the direction that they’re taking the angels. They managed to avoid titling the movie Charlie’s Angels: Xtreme, which I think was a good move, considering that everything is “Xtreme” these days, even spelling.

The first movie was a guilty pleasure of mine. Pure pulpy action flick goodness. I’ve never been complimented on my taste in movies anyway. I liked “I-Spy” when I saw a sneak preview. For the most part, I love fluff movies. I’m not into thinking too much when I’m watching a movie. Give me bullet time, slow motion, explosions, POV cams, wirework, and lots of fighting. I’m here to forget about the real world for two hours.

The releases of Summer 2003 are shaping up to do just that.

And all hell breaks loose. Good friends in town from NYC, a birthday dinner party, impromptu karaoke out at our favorite place. . .

And I’m spent.

Time to use this Monday to recuperate.