Anything to avoid work

and packing is work

I’m heading to Tokyo this weekend before catching my flight to the islands on the way to Seattle, then Spokane/Missoula by Greyhound, then Weedville, MT by Suburban.

I’ll probably have more to say about Japan than I’ll be able to type up before I leave here, especially if I take pictures in Tokyo. For now, I have to get these memes off my computer and on my Substack; It’s a 2013 Mack desktop and has been with me my whole, illustrious ‘journalism career’. I have to jump between three different browsers, all out of date because I can’t upload anything new. Everything that comes up on Brave is listed as dangerous. Firefox will get me email but completely block stuff I can get on Brave and Safari, etc. On Brave I kept seeing comments that included this black icon, among other emojis:

I had a text exchange with a friend from Hawaii. He kept sending me notes that ended in that six-black-line icon. He’s a fellow dissident rebel so I figured he was sending some kind of inside code. I had to know:

“Wait,” I thought, “That bar code thing is supposed to be a shaka?”

After five seconds of deep thought, I got it- My old computer can’t handle newer, cool emojis, just the standard stuff like thumbs up and the old cry-laugh. Ha! Funny misunderstanding due to my old computer. Oahu Eddie thinks I don’t know about the shaka- and I’ve been surfing for 40 years (well, he didn’t know that either.) I’m glad I asked, though, because Eddie sent me a fun article about the origin of the shaka hand signal. It’s a good, quick read- worth your two minutes. https://www.hawaiianairlines.com/content/hawaii-stories/culture/origin-of-the-shaka

Simple, duuuh misunderstandings remind me of a restaurant here in H. I rode by on my bicycle last night. There’s a Russian place downtown that is pretty good. Of course it’s called the Samovar.

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Ivan and Dmitri on the flight east from Novosibirsk.

Ivan- Dmitri, what shall we call our new restaurant in Japan?

Dmitri- Let’s call it the Samovar.

Ivan- What? Couldn’t we be a little less cliche than that?

Dmitri- Trust me. This is Japan. All salarymen wear black suits, all waitresses at family restaurants dress like French maids, all newspaper photographers have mussed or tousled hair and wear tan vests with extra useless pockets, and all Russian restaurants must be named The Samovar!

Ivan- Well, if you say so.

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Cowboy Clem and Father O’Shawnessy, in the wooded foothills next to the windy open range in Wyoming, circa 1882

Clem- Well, Padre. I reckon’ this is the spot. Now what’r we gunna call our church?

Father O’ (with strong brogue)- Well, let’s think it over a wee bit. How about St. Mary’s? I think it is a fine name for a church!

Clem- Suits me, Padre. I’ll start choppin’.

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I was warned against cliches in my 100-level composition class back in university. That stung because like the Japanese, I loved ‘em then, and I love ‘em now. Why, the other day I dressed up so I could take a photo with my son Roy, who was celebrating coming of age (20) with his classmates, and everyone gets dressed up- the boys in black suits and the girls in amazingly fancy kimonos and expensive, intricate hairstyles. H. City is a seijin-shiki (coming of age ceremony) nightmare for the girls, because the wind blows like crazy here all winter long. Anyway, I was putting on my black dress shoes and so it was a perfect time to clean them up a bit right in front of daughter and son and, for the 1000th-time, say

stages of Fun-Dan Humor appreciation, by age:

Early stage children’s reaction- haha. Papa funny!

Mid stage- Smile, roll eyes.

Late stage- Courtesy chuckle nose laugh. “Hm-hm.”

Early Adulthood (now)- ………..

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The funny thing about the Samovar restaurant here in town- I never knew that that was the name, even after eating there, until talking with some friends at a coffee shop.

Dan- Hey, have you guys ever been to Pectopah?

James- Been where?

Dan- To Pectopah. The Russian restaurant down by the soapland massage palace.

Reed- You mean The Samovar, right?

Dan- Samovar? I’m pretty sure it’s called Pectopah.

James and Reed looked at each other.

James- No, it’s the Samovar.

Only later did I realize that the sign outside the restaurant indeed says Pectopah, but that simply means Restaurant in Russian. Duuuuh. “Hey guys, have you ever been to the Russian restaurant, Restaurant?”

That’s almost as dumb as the soup de jour scene in Dumb and Dumber:

Oh no, wasting more time on Youtube, and I have to pack. But wait, this comment is great:

Hang on, though. If this next comment wasn’t done ironically, it’s even better:

OK, actually this post was supposed to be a collection of good memes I’ve picked up since coming to Japan. Instead I’m just entertaining myself here. Now I don’t have time and I have to pack! On the way to Tokyo, I’m going to meet a former co-worker of mine who used to say, “You’ll do anything, ANYTHING, to avoid work!” And here I thought I’d turned over a new leaf after four years of slingin’ muck and weeds.