Yay! Trolls! (Or honest criticism?)

As with anything that winds up in the internet, my Netflix “documentary” has begun to accumulate some, er, naysayers.  That’s right, trolls.  And mainly about me. Continue reading

So hey again.

Pretty sure that this is against my company policies but the blog system they have had me use sucks donkey testes and was obviously not meant for English so for now, it’s back to this.

Screen Shot 2016-04-15 at 1.08.53 AM

What’s changed since my last post announcing the closing of this blog?

Well, to start out, I’m a minor Netflix celebrity now.  Starting from the 30th of June, What’s Manzai?!!!, a Yoshimoto sanctioned, Yoshimoto produced “documentary” (Can’t really talk about that for obvious reasons) about Japanese comedy went live worldwide on Netflix, which is a bigger deal than my Japanese overseers seem to realize.  What’s changed for me since that point?  Well, I sleep in the nude now.  That much is happening.

I’m also completely broke right now, completely fitting that stereotype of a broke struggling comedian.  Except I’m in Japan.

I’m also writing a book sorta.  But that’s way off in the distance.


Anyways, I’m back for the time being until my company shits this down.  So enjoy.

Sakura Season

It's spring.  That means it's flower time.  Everyone party!

It’s spring. That means it’s flower time. Everyone party!

It’s April 2014, the weather is finally starting to take a turn for the better, spring break has come and gone for those people fortunate enough to get one at all.  April means spring.  And here in Japan, spring means sakura.

For those not in the know or those who are otherwise uninitiated in the art of contemplating the falling cherry blossoms with a great degree of self-importance and pretension, sakura is the Japanese term for “cherry blossoms”, a type of plant/tree/thing that is apparently different from plain old cherries in that sakura trees don’t actually bear any fruit (Thanks Obama), are probably a bitch to clean up what with their falling petals and all, and look dead for most of the year save a one week (or sometimes less than that) period in which their flowers blossom and millions of Japanese people flock to parks and groves in droves, eager to ring in the tidings of warm weather with copious amounts of booze, food, and shenanigans.  It’s like college, only with old, beaten-down businessmen and cold, neglected housewives instead of frat bros and skanks in tubetops and heels.

I would would be lying if I said that I didn’t appreciate the cherry blossoms or the warmer weather but I would also be lying if I said I appreciated it as much as I appreciate the internet or a shirt that isn’t either too big or too small.

The thing about sakura season in Japan is that it pretty much is three months of build up, followed by three days of peak blossom season, followed by weeks of fallen blossom petals blowing everywhere and generally causing a big mess and allergies for a lot of Japan’s more nebbish, hypochondriac population (“My nose is runny, I have hay fever!”).

Over the years, sakura and hanami have come to be associated with the passage of time, more specifically, graduation, which, unlike America, usually happens right around March and April.  As a result, most of the nation’s pop culture pretty much stops what it’s doing and shifts course into full blown sakura-mania, complete with daily sakura forecasts, sakura-themed TV specials, and more sakura songs than you ever thought could be possible.  It’s like Christmas is in America, except in this case you don’t get any presents and there are (more) drunk people in the train station (than usual) singing old folk tunes to themselves.


So sure, the sakura blossoms maybe pretty to look at but overall they may be a bit of a pain in the ass.  Plus, once you get over the fact that you no longer need to wear arctic expedition gear to work everyday, everything else is just peachy (or maybe in this case cherry-y?).

Or maybe I’m just a cynical, hardened bastard…  Yeah, that’s the ticket.






Hello Out There (Alternate Title: Are you There God, It’s Me Stephen)

By the time you’ll be reading this, I’ll have officially accepted a job teaching English in Japan at a private English school chain-company-corporation-conglomerate-thingy.  Not exactly the most exciting way to start off a brand new blog (Still looking for a good title, by the way), I know, but the truth nonetheless.

I suppose I should probably start this whole thing off by introducing myself since, hypothetically, there will be people reading what I write who know nothing about me. (The biggest hypothetical here is of course the contention that there will be people even reading this blog at all but that’s besides the point.)  So here goes nothing.  Here comes the deep philosophical avalanche in which my every deepest darkest secret is laid bare before your very eyes like your supper after a very long, very rough night of drinking.


Hey there,  My name is Stephen… or Tetsu… or both…  Honestly, I don’t care.  People screw up my name all the time anyways so I’m freaking used to it.  Anyways, I’m 22 (even though I look like I’m in my mid-thirties), a recent graduate from UC Davis, and a goddamn sexy beast.  Alright, so maybe I made that last bit up.  The rest of it is true.  Go ahead, try and prove me wrong.  I dare you.

So where were we?  That’s right, my favorite topic: Me.  I like many things such as (but not limited to) nerdy stuff like comics and Doctor Who and other stuff you’ve heard people talk about but were too cool actually care about, music (both the listening to and creating of), sports (everything except for hockey because, hey, if I wanted to see a bunch of alcoholics beat the crap out of each other for no good reason, I’d rather just pay a couple of hobos to fight to the death), and food (both eating and making, but mostly eating because I’m fat).  I don’t dislike many things but things that really curl my crepe include  douchey dudes who take advantage of really drunk (and/or otherwise incapacitated) chicks at bars/parties/company functions/bridal showers/Little Timmy’s Bar Mitzvah, angry drunks, humid heat (which, since I’m moving to Japan, is going to be an issue), wine, things that give me heartburn, and people from Seattle (unless you’re reading this blog, in which case, you are the freaking best).

I guess the responsible thing to do would be to elaborate upon some of these things but I’m a recent college grad so screw responsibility.  Well, kinda… Not really… I was one of those college students.  Since I plan on focusing on stuff that I like (primarily food and sports and pop culture-y sorta things), there will be posts introducing my views on those things in the days to come (I obviously have a lot of time on my hands at the present moment).  Hell, maybe if I have the time, I’ll explain why I hate what I hate as much as I do, although most of those things are tied to things that I like.

Anyways, I suppose the big question revolving around this blog/thing is a simple one: Why?

My answer isn’t nearly so easy to get across.  When I was younger, I used to write… a lot… Probably too much, come to think of it.  Be it melodramatic love poems (some which I’ve somehow managed to keep and could possibly come to share somewhere down the road), ridiculously insipid musings on stuff going on in my life (did not keep those, thank god), posts upon posts of writing for text-based RPGs (don’t knock it til you try it/I was really lonely at the time), and works of fiction that I mostly would start and never finish (still have most of those).  Then, sometime in college, I just stopped writing.  It’s been a few years now and that decision still nags at me like the ache of a bad dream.  Which brings us to this point.  (There’s definitely a lot more to this story than that but it’s five in the morning and I need my sleep so that’ll be a story for another day.)  I dunno what I’ll wind up writing but lord knows I’m going to try to write as much as I can.

So stick around and be patient.  I’ll try to make sure that patience is dutifully rewarded.

Thanks for your read-timing.



Pictured: I was obviously dropped on my head as a child.