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More Japanese Commercial Madness

I’ve been obsessively investigating that bizarre commercial I posted yesterday. I just can’t get it out of my head… it’s like some kind of neural weapon, I swear, a psychological virus that’s probably going to turn me into a sparkly-eyed, maniacally laughing zombie any moment now. My co-workers should beware…

Before my painful transmogrification begins, however, I’d like to quickly note what I’ve learned. For posterity, you understand, in the hope that any future sparkly golden zombie plagues can be avoided. My research indicates that the future Governator was shilling for some kind of Japanese energy drink in this clip, a substance called Arinamin V, which is like a turbo-charged version of Red Bull or something. According to a Japanese blogger named Joi Ito, this is what’s going on in the ad:

Arnold Schwarzenegger in Arinamin V’s commercial. He is playing mah-jong with important guests. He does a huge faux paux by winning the round when he should have let the guests win. His boss scolds him. Then he sneaks off to a corner, drinks the special drink while the customer is telling his boss the deal is off. Suddenly, as the drink takes effect, Arnold is transformed into a glittering entertainer and the guest is showered with mah-jong score counting stick and everyone is shouting and cheering.

It’s pretty common knowledge that American celebrities who wouldn’t stoop to doing TV ads here in the States frequently go to Japan and collect big paychecks for a day’s work and a little video endorsement there. (You may recall that the wonderfully moody film Lost in Translation used this conceit as a premise to drop Bill Murray down in the middle of Tokyo.) I suppose the stars in question figure that no one will ever see commercials made for a market half a world away, so there’s no risk for their professional dignity. Poor, foolish actors… obviously they never counted on the power of the InterWebs! These days, it’s ridiculously easy to find commercials that actors like Ah-nald probably wish would stay hidden. There’s an entire site dedicated to them, Japander.com (although everytime I visit Japander, it seems to crash my Firefox browser, so be cautious if you click that link). And of course, there’s YouTube, the biggest repository for pop-cultural detritus ever invented. I’ve used YouTube to to dig up several more Japanese TV commercials starring two of my favorite actors. I present them to you now, for your Wednesday viewing pleasure:

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Arnold in Japan

I don’t speak Japanese and about all I know of that ancient culture is what I’ve picked up from Godzilla movies, but I can’t imagine this commercial would be any less terrifying to the average Japanese consumer than it is for this gaijin:

I’ll probably be seeing golden sparkly stuff in my dreams for weeks… arg!

(For the record, I spotted this little wonder of weirdness this morning over at The Bleat.)

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No More Pink Flamingoes?

Tragedy! According to an article in the LA Times, Union Products, the company that has been churning out 250,000 plastic lawn flamingoes a year for just under a half-century, has shuttered its factory due to rising production costs. The company’s president, Dennis Plante, and the creator of the kitsch icon, Don Featherstone, are looking for another company that may be interested in acquiring the molds, but there’s no deal yet.

I’d better inform my mother. She’ll want to horde a few sets of the silly things, just in case…

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Progress in the Fight Against ALS

Wired.com is reporting that scientists at Johns Hopkins have had encouraging results in an experiment involving stem cells and rats stricken with ALS, a.k.a. Lou Gehrig’s Disease, which is a degenerative neurological condition. The scientists injected stem cells into the spinal cords of the rats; not only did the stem cells develop into functional nerves that linked to the rats’ existing nervous system, but the new cells also resisted the disease until the rats died.

You may recall that I’ve had some first-hand experience with this disease. I’m realistic enough to know that we’re still a long way from any kind of stem-cell therapy for ALS, let alone a cure, but this is nonetheless a very, very welcome development. I’d like nothing better than to see this shit eradicated in my lifetime…

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One Step Forward, Three Steps Back…

I took the day off work yesterday so I could hold The Girlfriend’s hand while she underwent a minor surgical procedure. Okay, I wasn’t allowed to actually hold her hand during the procedure, but I was out in the waiting room the whole time. Well, except for when her mom and I ran over to Village Inn for a quick plate of eggs and bacon with a side of pancakes. But we were there when the doctor came looking for us to tell us we could go see her in the recovery room, and that’s what counts, right? In any event, she’s doing fine, thanks for wondering.

Later, finding myself with a free afternoon and nothing better to do, I decided to drop into Beans and Brews for a Starbucks-style coffee-and-milk beverage and an hour or so of recreational reading. The particular Beans and Brews I visited is just down the street from a high school, and, as school had just let out for the day, the place was crowded with gangly, gawky young men dressed in their unofficial uniforms of baggy jeans and dark-colored hoodies, all eager to get their daily caffiene buzz on. I slipped through their gauntlet, bought a mochaccino, and found a sofa to settle into with my book.
I’d been reading for a few minutes when I suddenly heard Steve Perry belting out “Don’t Stop Believin’.” This was a bit puzzling because the coffee-house’s PA system had been — still was, in fact — playing some anonymously mopey rock song that I couldn’t name if you held a gun to my head. I looked around to see who’d brought in a competing music-player… and was surprised to see one of the hooded teenage boys pulling a cellphone from his pocket. The kid was using a song that had charted before he was even conceived as his ringtone. I grinned, thinking to myself that there might be some hope for the future after all.

Then the in-store music switched to an artist I recognized — Warren Zevon — and I overheard the young barista telling his friends to listen to the amazingly cool song that was just starting. “I just love this one,” he said, “It’s called ‘Werewolves of Thunder‘.”
Doh.
I turned my attention back to my book and tried not to feel smugly old…

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Population Milestone

Just in the last couple of hours, the population of the United States topped 300 million residents. About 2.5 million of those 300 mil are right here in Utah, and about 2 million of those are clustered along the Wasatch Front, i.e., the part of the state where I happen to live.

No wonder my commute sucks so bad…

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Mail Outage

FYI for anyone who may have been trying to reach me by e-mail yesterday: my ISP had some kind of outage and was out of commission for a good part of the day. Because my personal e-mail account is web-based and hosted by said ISP, I was unable to access my mail during the outage. The ISP is back up now, but I don’t know if any messages got lost or not. If you tried to contact me and have had no reply, you might want to resend your message today…

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Two Paths…

Here’s Scalzi talking about the choices one makes in the writing life:

…a Bennington grad won the Booker Prize this year, for a novel that is praised for “illuminating the pain of exile, the ambiguities of post-colonialism and the blinding desire for a ‘better life,’ when one person’s wealth means another’s poverty.” Meanwhile, my [new] book starts with a chapter primarily about farting an alien to death. Would I have written a book with farting, had I gone to Bennington? And would it have won the Booker Prize? These are the personal alternate personal histories of my life. Be that as it may, two roads diverged in the woods, and I, well, I took the one in which intestinal emanations were used for humorous effect. And that has made all the difference.

And the Monday-morning laughter continues…

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