Violence can only be concealed by a lie, and the lie can only be maintained by violence.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Now, before I post this, let me clarify something: I’m against state sponsored violence against it’s own citizens.  I’m not writing this for indigenous people’s rights.  I’m not interested in your elders or your culture; That’s yours and you can keep it, forget it, or do what you will with it. What I do know is that  a bloated, aggressive, and bought/paid for police force and government are no friends of the people.

Standing Rock: As the protest continues and the tactics used by the police to crush the demonstrators darken, this is a great time to look at some of the fabulous “Non-Lethal” munitions which law enforcement love to employ, which are actually incredibly damned lethal.

Err, I mean..lets use...non-lethals. Sure.

Err, I mean..let’s use, uh, non-lethals.

I’ve personally been on the receiving end of so called “non-lethal munitions” a few times, and let me tell you, all those times were unpleasant.  I jumped out of a second story window to avoid a CS grenade which had just gone off two feet behind me.  I was shot with a rubber bullet, not on the same occasion, and it floored me, I thought it had ripped me open.  Then there’s good old beatings, well, I’ve had some of those as well. Fun!

The point of this is that although I’m still really handsome despite it, people die from so called “Non-Lethals” all the time.  Here’s a list how.

5. Water Cannon

Despite the dangers of a brain eating amoeba which I somehow managed to dodge all through childhood, the chance of becoming entangled to death with one’s garden hose, and the possibility of cold related injury and death, one party favorite being rolled out is the water cannon.

This is so safe.

This is so safe.

For those of you too bamboozled by the technical name, wikipedia explains all about this super safe alternative to talking things out: A water cannon is a device that shoots a high-velocity stream of water. Typically, a water cannon can deliver a large volume of water, often over dozens of meters. They are used in firefighting, large vehicle washing and riot control. Most water cannons fall under the category of a fire monitor.

Disperse a riot OR wash large vehicles? Consider me sold.

Along with the ability to blast people with water, making block parties super refreshing when the cops are involved, “alternative payloads” can be added to really bring the party to the people.  Some of the these include dyes, “burny” chemicals to hurt your face and eyes and even…electricity!  There’s literally nothing that could go wrong here!

Wow! Just like Standing Rock, except without cool music (chanting doesn’t count) that avoided dating.

But just like all things awesome, water cannons also have a down side, and by that I mean they can fucking kill you, blind you, or knock you out.

4. Rubber Bullets

Although I’ve never been shot by an actual metal bullet (yet), I imagine it really sucks.  I can easily imagine this because I’ve been shot with rubber bullets and it really, really hurt.  I’ve been shot with lots of “Simunition”, a fun-fun paint projectile used by the military for practice, and I still have the scars from that. However, when I was hit in my upper abdomen with a rubber bullet, I fully thought I had been shot “for real.” The “discomfort” was mind-bending and I was bruised, heavily, for weeks.

But hey, I’m probably just a pussy and rubber bullets are no big deal, right?


See? Just like talking things out and being patient, just a lot more fun for sadistic storm troopers attacking unarmed protesters.

3. Tear Gas

The smell of Tear Gas in the morning; it’s the best part of waking up.

That having been said, getting gassed sucks. Hard.


There's a reason the people using it WEAR FUCKING MASKS.

There’s a reason the people using it WEAR MASKS.

If you aren’t sold yet, consider this: Tear gas was MADE INTERNATIONALLY ILLEGAL FOR THE USE IN WARFARE in 1993, but it’s still used by police on their own citizens.  Please, go read that one more time; tear gas is too brutal to use in a WAR where, one would assume, the goal is to KILL the other guys, but it’s just fine for use back at home against Jim, the baker and Karen, the candle stick maker?


No, that’s bullshit, and we all know it.  The US/Western media has lamented the use of these deadly weapons over, and over and over.  So, if it’s people in some other country the media cries out into the night, but if it’s actual AMERICAN CITIZENS protesting BIG OIL or the MILITANT POLICE STATE well, to hell with them, Gas the fuckers.

Gas them! Gas them all! Big Oil commands it!

Gas them! Gas them all! Big Oil commands it!

2. Stun Grenades/ Flash bangs

Often referred to as “flash bangs”, these little babies are used in a variety of situations during which one wants to disorient, confuse, and stun the enemy.  They are also a good way to maybe or maybe not kill someone you don’t hate enough to throw an actual fragmentation grenade at.

They hate us for our freedom. And fragmentation grenades.

They hate us for our freedom. And fragmentation grenades.

In fact these are so dangerous, they even kill the people trained to use them to kill evil doers.  If one isn’t burnt severely or killed by a heart attack etc, then the concussion might just rip your body to pieces, similar to what has happened to a protester at Standing Rock.  Although the police claimed at one time this injury resulted from the protester attempting to rig IED’s out of propane canisters, as you can see here, her clothing and flesh isn’t burned, she’s simply blown apart.  Things that make you go “Hmmmmmm”.

Remember on 4th of July when some dumb kid you knew would inevitably hold onto the M80 a little too long?

That on Roids. Lots of Roids.


1. Stun Guns/ Tasers

If you’ve never been shot with a taser, then you’ve never lived, or you might have just died when you got hit by the taser.

Wikipedia knows all:

An electroshock weapon is an incapaciting weapon. It delivers an electric shock aimed at temporarily disrupting muscle functions and/or inflicting pain without causing significant injury.

Gao Rongrong: No significant injuries.

Gao Rongrong: No significant injuries.

No significant injuries!

No significant injuries!

No significant injuries!

No significant injuries!


Tasers can, and do, disrupt breathing and/or lead to heart attack.  This happens on the regular. Often, the death of whoever via taser is followed by “Yeah but he’s overweight.” Well, half the United States is over weight and that includes lots of the cops running about shooting people with these things.


In closing…

Are these as lethal as an armor piercing bullet or say, an axe to the skull? No. However, they are not “Non-Lethal.”

LESS LETHAL seems the more appropriate term but is it the more appropriate method for dealing with free people who are not on the same page as big oil?  And before the thugs wielding these weapons are unleashed, every possible non-violent option must be exercised, up to and including big oil stopping construction on another billion dollar pipeline.  “Why Care?” is simple: If they can do it to them, they can and will eventually do it to you.

This is not about some groups water rights, or “indigenous people’s”.  It’s about the excessive use of force against citizens and euphemisms people use to talk around what’s really going on, which is a PARTY! WEW! STANDING ROCK 2016!  The New Burning man, baby!












Baka: Stupid, uninformed, Crazy

Gaijin: Slang for Gaikokujin or foreigner; see also nigger, honky,  haole, farang, gweilo, kike, spic, etc ad nauseam


You might be a Baka Gaijin if…

  1. …Your idea of safe sex is avoiding girls that hang-out in Roppongi.
  2. Numa Numa Yei is natsukashi.
  3. …You have a running tab at TGI Fridays in either Shibuya or Roppongi.
  4. …Your running tab at TGI Fridays isn’t even under your actual name, but some obvious physical feature; Mohawk, fat-short, big glasses, bad smell
  5. …You know how to say “Brothers of the hole” in Japanese, and you actually know whose brother is whose.
  6. … You have a point card from a shitty love hotel.
  7. …You think “Hanami” is an actual national holiday.
  8. …You spent all your money on conbini beers and the only food you can eat till payday is kyu-syoku.
  9. You’re barely surviving as a recruiter but keep telling everyone you’re “in finance”.
  10. …You keep trying to convince other gaijin that “Seriously, Saitama is a really cool place to live.
  11. …You’ve ever cheated the train fare buying a child’s ticket, and got caught.
  12. …You pay more in rent than most friends back home do on their mortgage and you live in a shoe-box.
  13. …You’re over 50, single, living in said shoe-box, working the same job for the same pay as 20 years ago and still think you’re “living the dream.”
  14. …You try to tell people about the subtle complexities of natto, but you think broccoli is “yucky.”
  15. …You can explain the concept of Wabisabi to people back home but you can’t say “Do you have change?” in Japanese.
  16. …You like manga Japanese dorks have never even heard of.
  17. …You wear shorts in November because “legs don’t get cold.”
  18. …Your idea of a luxurious Christmas dinner involves KFC and a six pack of Asahi.
  19. …Your most commonly used Japanese phrase is “Nomihodai!”
  20. …Your son’s name is “Yousuke” because, “Fucking Japanese Condoms…
  21. …Your emergency fund consists of 20,000 points on your HUB card.
  22. …You haven’t touched a condom in over a decade because, JAPAN.
  23. …Your home is furnished entirely with other people’s junk.
  24. Conbini Beers! Because it’s Lunch time on Tuesday.
  25. …Stacy’s and Tracy’s have been completely replaced with Tomoko’s and Haruka’s.
  26. …You have these two books side by side on your shelf: Making out in Japanese and Game of Thrones.
  27. …You can’t read Kanji but you can operate a Karaoke machine.
  28. …Most of your first dates include HUB points and the word Yada.
  29. …You know what a platform pizza is.
  30. …You’ve stepped in a platform pizza.
  31. …You’ve Made your own platform pizza…and then stepped in it.
  32. …You’re girlfriend’s origin story involves a language exchange, a 100yen izakaya and breakfast at Matsuya.
  33. …You saved big on your honeymoon by going on the Booze Cruise.
  34. …”Please Manner Mode” means mobile devices off but one cups bottoms up.
  35. …You only drink on Saturday, unless it’s Wednesday.
  36. PPAP is not a joke, it’s your job description.
  37. …You can say “Cock” twenty different ways in Japanese but still don’t know how to say “savings account”.
  38. …You actually said you’re “More of a Daily Yamazaki man myself.”
  39. …You had a great time at TDL, Shitfaced.
  40. …You have more than one Ninja weapon in your home, but no land line.


That’s all I’ve got right now: Leave yours in the comments.  You could win a prize!



I don’t “feel sorry” for Japan anymore.

It was pretentious and ignorant to have that feeling initially, although it came from a genuine place, and I’m relieved that it’s finally all gone, because I got my own problems.  Japan, much like America and Europe, all are on the same team as it is, is rocketing toward the edge of a cliff.  This cliff, once reached, introduces one to a grand BASE jump like experience as you scream willy-nilly, plummeting away from things like personal freedom, economic balance, sustainability and the general feeling of safety that the Japanese so deeply need, and which so many pussified ex-pat liberals blow their horns about.

What does “safety” matter if all it means is declining wages, a stagnant economy and a government taking armfuls of more power as they march the people of a tiny little country with no natural resources to war with a Goliath?  I’ll tell you what it means: jack-shit.

Wing suits are really cool and it must be one hell of a ride, until you slam into a fucking bridge…


…”Weeeeeeee BOOOOOM.”

This is the Japanese government as they realize that the people are completely neutered, unarmed, and generally scared of their own shadows.  They can do whatever they want, until well, they slam into something immovable and that clearly won’t be the Japanese people.

So, this is a list of some of the ways the government is giving the Japanese citizens the finger, and just doing whatever the hell they please.


5. Japan is increasing its military spending

Despite literally everyone, every common punk-slut-idiot on the street, knowing from day-to-day life that the Japanese economy is not doing well, and despite the international consensus that “Abe-nomics is a hilarious failure, the Japanese government is increasing its military spending.

“Because…North Korea!”

Truly, advanced tractors, pro-gay marriage and damned fabulous about it all.

Truly, advanced tractors, no food and damned fabulous about it all.

North Korea is the convenient whipping boy for, well, the world. It’s a destitute shit-hole, ruled by a maniac, full of maniacs who can’t figure out how to grow cabbage properly, but they’re going to kill us all?  Negative.  Also, good old saber rattling has been NK’s (can I call you guys NK) modus operandi for years and years.

Need more rice?


“Thank you for rice, dogs.”

Need medicine?


“Thank you for medicine, scum.”

Need some money?


“Thank you for the loan, white devils.”

Same old, same old.

The only reason, plain and simple, that North Korea is still a place is because the powers that be want it to remain one.

Oh and the other big threat, China. Evil, angry, commie China; an ancient beast which is rearing it’s malevolent head stealing valuable territory from Japan in the South/East China sea.  Oh, the great islands China has stolen…

Critically important, empty rocks, in the sea, far far away from Japan. Did I mention they are empty?

Critically important, empty rocks, in the sea, far, far away from Japan. Did I mention they’re empty?

So, is Japan really going to start a fight with its big, big brother over some deserted rocks really far away from what anyone would realistically consider Japanese territory?

What’s more, the increasing of the military budget, when the economy is in the crapper and the 2020 Olympics is looming, now estimated to cost 4 times the originally anticipated amount, is equal parts useless and irresponsible because in the end, who pays?

Not these guys.

Not these guys.


It'll be these guys.

It’ll be these guys.

Unless Abe is hoping entangling Japan in endless wars will create a weapons manufacturing boom…?

4.Pacifist constitution is being dumped

Article 9 of the Japanese constitution is pretty straight forward, or so many people thought. But, taking a page out of Obama’s play book, PM Abe is “re-interpreting” the article in new and exciting ways.  Essentially, Japan is going to get in the mix, from now.

Now, this isn’t really new-new, Japan deployed “troops” in a support role in 2003 and the Japanese air force has been running auxiliary operations alongside the USA for years, but now, the likelihood of the Japanese military spearheading, or even operating unilaterally is increasing.

Nothing says "We love peace." Like things called DESTROYERS.

Nothing says “We love peace.” Like things called DESTROYERS.

In addition to all the super-duper mecha kakkoii robot laser weapons everyone hopes Japan will finally develop, the official voting age has dropped from 20 to 18 years old. Many question this and have asked “But are 18-year-old kids old enough to vote?”

Thing is, you can’t start drafting 18 year olds into mandatory military service if they can’t even vote.

But…Japan doesn’t have a draft.

At the moment.

3. Orwellian State Secrets law

Blow a whistle in Japan, and Abe could put you away for up to ten years. Similar to the USA, although not yet on such a ridiculously large-scale, Abe and his goons have successfully, after ignoring massive protests, enacted the State Secrets law allowing them, essentially, to hide the dirty shit they do from the public.

Transparency; out the window. 

Accountability; America doesn’t need it so neither does Japan.

And if, say, some rogue reporter finds out that Fukushima, is in fact, leaking massive amounts of radiation poisoning millions, well, if the Japanese government has dubbed that a “Super duper Staty Secret“, then said rogue agent could be enjoying ten years of cold rice and mental torture in a prison near you.

2. Still way, way behind on standard human rights issues

This is a long, long list and I’m getting bored.  But essentially it goes as follows:

  • Discrimination of Ethnic Minorities.  No-brainer. Go walk around town for ten minutes and find the “GAIJIN DAME” signs.
  • Refugees and asylum seekers.  2014, they let in…wait for it…11. Total. 11.  More on this in closing.
  • Fags have no rights here, period, UNLESS you’re fabulous and live in the Shibuya area. Suteki!
  • Girls just have it kinda bad here. discrimination, violence, groping and stalking.
  • Free speech has been scrapped, see above #3.
  • They can still lock you up for 23 days, for no reason, essentially torture you, and then dump you back on the street without so much as a “oops”.
They must live in Saitama.

They must live in Saitama.


1. Overlord Abe will have as much time as he needs.

The grand Overlord of Japan, Shinzo Abe, has decreed (probably), that he will ignore the law and will extend his term limit to 9 years, not 6.  This is of course, good for all the loyal and hard-working and ganbatteru Japanese who will enjoy a life of peace (well probably not peace) and abundance (probably not this either, his “three arrows” all missed).  But never the less, all must bow before the subarashi Overlord of Japan and all things Gundam.


Why I don’t care

Over the years I’ve watched from far and away as the United States and Europe, both places I grew up in and love, eating themselves alive through wars, a complete disregard for the environment, religious like idiotic “progressivism” and horrid economic policy, begin to fall apart.  It’s been tough to watch, I must say.  What’s more, those of you who live there, you can’t even see it; your perspective won’t allow it.

Living in Tokyo, but never being accepted as someone who really lives here, forever the perpetual guest, I’m always on the outside looking in, and events in the last few years have been dark.  But, darkness alone is not enough to make someone not care, however, watching an entire country march in lock step toward wildly darker times, all the while pleading ignorance despite this being the information age, it’s numbing as hell.

An acquaintance of mine, early 30’s, Japanese.  He and I had spent long hours over two years discussing his personal and professional lives, both of which were in a shambles.  He’s smart, multi-lingual and young, with years of experience at a major chemical company under his belt. Well, when his company turned on him, driving him to the edge of both quitting and losing his mind, he was at an incredibly low point. We spent so much time talking about the world, options, lifestyles, and this bullshit consumer matrix like reality they try to keep us all trapped inside.  His mind literally opened before my eyes and he devoured literature and his ability in language, he speaks four, flourished and I was impressed. Deeply impressed, in fact; he motivated me.

His company had humiliated him.  They had sent him to a psychiatrist and relegated him to the lowest depths possible, literally forcing him to take out trash and replace the phones for those who used to be his peers.  He was passed over for promotions while his peers advanced.  He was told, flatly, “You will never work in management.  But you can continue till retirement in a support role, only.”

He was utterly humiliated and it had become clear that if he left the company, within a month he would be hired by one of many other attractive options.  Things looked bright with possibilities.

What did he do? He stayed with the company which had fucked him for years.  He decided it was better for him to “be a hard-working bee” and support this company, out of loyalty, loyalty to an organization that did everything in their power to make him quit.  Once I heard this, he and I stopped talking.  For me, he is a metaphor which clearly illustrates Japan, painfully.

They have all the tools, all the information, but nobody does shit while their country heads toward a really shitty place.  Can’t feel sorry or care about that anymore. What’s the point?  It’s the constant hypocrisy: We love peace! But your government is moving clearly toward war. Brexit is so tragic! But you aren’t interested in a hard and fast version of the EU here in East Asia because, China= gross.  Oh why won’t Trump let in the refugees? Why can’t we all help the refugees? But fuck those refugees coming to Japan you let in 11 and that was 11 too many.

The list goes on and on but really, who cares now?

Pray for Japan? I did.  It didn’t work. And it wasn’t God’s fault, it was Japan’s fault.


For years, way too many years, I paid 7,000-10,000 Yen (USD $70-100) towards the monthly bill of my AU KDDI smartphone. I figured I needed it as the commute to my work was over an hour and a half but then a kind English gentleman showed me a better way.

For years he fought with the Big Japanese phone companies: AU, Docomo and Softbank trying to get a better deal arguing that years of loyalty should mean something but then he stumbled across what everyone in Japan should know about … the big phone companies don’t give a fuck. Then he discovered that a bunch of companies, like and BIC are renting phone network access and then providing coverage directly to customers.

Initially I was skeptical that a new phone company like BIC could provide the same service but BIC is one of the largest electronic stores in the country, if anyone they can handle phone service. So for my new phone provider I choose BIC Camera SIM:


BIC Sim rents the network off NTT Docomo so I use their network, never had a problem connecting and usually maintain a strong connection. I choose the 3GB plan for a monthly 1600 Yen fee (USD $16) and I’ve never looked back. I got to keep my phone number that I’ve had for years, I can SMS number to number and I get 3GB a month to burn though. SMS costs like 10yen but to be honest I’ve never even used it now that everyone has LINE, Snapchat or Facebook Messenger. Even with constant internet usage 5 days a week, 3hrs a day on the train I never get close to reaching my 3GB limit. Mind you its not like I watch NetFlix or Youtube movies all the time, I save that for home and the free Wifi. Every month I save around 5000 yen because I switched from AU to BIC. The only “catch” is you need an unlocked phone. I saved so much that it made sense to cancel my AU contract and pay the 12,000 Yen early cancellation fee. After all after just two months I saved almost that much. It’s been a year now since I cut ties with AU and joined BIC Sim and I have no regrets.

For other “How to … in Japan” guides, try these:

Big In Japan Japanese Bicycles Health Care In Japan Making friends in Japan hostess in Japan
How to become big in Japan How to cycle in Japan Getting the around the Japanese health care system Making Friends in Japan How not to be a hostess

gaijinassbannerThis is a chapter out of my ridiculous memoir I’m writing about my time and misadventures in Tokyo.  The title is called “J-girls.” Reader beware: I’m a horrible person and if you’re just figuring that out you haven’t been paying attention.





Sayuri Gogo was mine and Miho’s boss at our company, Bosmo.

No, I didn’t hook up with Gogo-san.

Although I totally would have.

But I bring her up because she’s the female who most stands out on this particular evening in late April, 2005.  As I mentioned before that Japanese school year begins in April, as does the work year. So, many companies and schools have get togethers and gatherings, usually (always) involving alcohol. Bosmo had organized one such event.

So, at an Izakaya in Takadanobaba I went and gathered with a collection of some of the most inappropriate misfits and dorks I’d ever met.  All of us were working for Bosmo as ALT, Assistant Language Teachers, and all of us new next to nothing about teaching.  What a group of weirdos; Australians, Americans, Canadians, English…and to my horror, I discovered that largely the Americans were the worst of the bunch.

The word had gotten out via Hatch, the Gaylord, and whoever else, that I was serious about kickboxing.  At the long table we were seated at, across from me to my left was a rotund white woman, American, who had heard the rumors. I looked the part, I must say, I had slimmed down to about 96 kilo’s, near 205 pounds, was tall, broad shouldered, tanned and was adorned with some appropriate swagger.  She was medium height, white and probably the same weight as I was and it was primarily focused around her rear and midsection. She had blond hair wearing it up with bangs. She spoke.

“So, you’re the kick boxer guy?” She said as she dipped some fries in ketchup and bit into them.

“I might probably be the kick boxer guy. I’m Eric, nice to meet you.” Nothing wrong with some civility.

“Cool. I do Kung Fu…”

Here we go.

“…I’ve been doing it for like, ten years. We trained so hard. You wouldn’t believe it. Our Sifu used to make us do all these crazy drills and trainings.  Seriously, like, I had to push a nail into a board with my thumb.  We would hit these wood boards over and over to make our hands harder…”

“That’s really inten…”

“…and there were all these black guys in my dojo. Like, all these big black guys and I used to have to train with them all the time and I’d be sweating all over the place and so would they and they’d just stare at me and like…yeah…we trained really hard there. It was awesome.”

Speechless.  Utterly, speechless and I was staring at this person for a few moments before I realized the guy sitting next to me was also staring at her, in a kind of confused horror and I then knew at least one other person here wasn’t completely doomed.  Then she started again.

“I think I’ll try kickboxing. What dojo do you go to? Where is it?”

“Um, it’s actually, rather…far.” I mumbled, picking a beer which might be mine, I didn’t know, and taking a drink from it.  It isn’t mine I then realize.

“Cool. Well, let’s train together for sure.” She said as she jammed several ore fries into her mouth.

And then I said, I had to say because I was compelled but I knew I shouldn’t say but I couldn’t stop myself so then, almost a whisper, barely audible, I had to let it go.

“But, like, I’m not black.”

The guy next to me choked on something and the girls chewing slowed down for a moment, as if everything had gone into slow motion, but then a moment later it picked back up and she said, food visible in the mouth: “But there are black guys at your dojo, right?”

Hand up, GARCON! Whiskey!

Garcon means boy.

I turned to the guy next to me who was looking at me with a gleam in his eye and we were both sharing the same thought and it was: Can we make it out alive?

“I’m Eric.” I said.

“I’m Ben.” He said.

“What the fuck is going on here, Ben?” I said as I looked nervously around the room.

“That’s a good question. Where are you from?” He said, slowly eating a pickle.

“New York. You?”


And that is how I met my best friend, compatriot, co-writer and legal guardian for the next ten or so years, Ben Duĉas.

The night wore on. Miho would smile at me from another table and I’d smile back, only to realize that the  person sitting next to her,  Hatch, thought I was smiling at him and he was beaming back at me and I’d quickly look away, terrified.  Around last call of our two hour nomihodai, all you can drink plan and the grease which keeps Japan moving, a long conversation about Japanese tattoos climaxed with some pasty, skinny-fat white guy standing up and lifting his T-shirt to expose his flabby abdomen which had a large orange tiger head tattooed on it.  It looked like a pancake covered in lava, and somethings one can never un-see.  Ben was staring wide eyed in shock/horror, I was choking back vomit and tears. It was a tense moment.

Ubiquitous karaoke followed.

Miho was chirping away on the mic, some Japanese pop song, and an Aussie named Keith, who I had met the year before, leaned in to talk to me.  Keith, it’s worth mentioning, was a hiking and exercise fanatic.  He was 190 centimeters tall, so nearly 6’5” and heavy set.  He eventually would get fired for hanging his sweaty training wear, he’d cycle to school, in part of the kitchen at one of his schools.  He was baffled on being fired because “What’s the problem, it’s warm in the kitchen it helps my gear dry out.”

He leaned into me now in the Karaoke both and said “We are taking bets on who is going to take home either Gogo-san or Miho.” I gave him a glance.  Taking bets you say?

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Simple, you can put money on who is going to shag one or both of them tonight. They’re both wasted.”

He was giddy as a school boy for this greasy business.

“Who is betting on taking Miho home?” I inquired.

“Um…” He actually had a piece of paper with names scribbled on it. “…Jake, Brian and me.” How he managed to say this with a straight face baffled me, but I knew something Keith didn’t.

“I’ll take all that action.  Miho doesn’t go home with any of you and I’ll give you 3:1 odds.”

He stared at me now, and smiled a little. “Not much confidence in your boys here, is that it?”

“I’m sure you’re all heart breakers, I just think she’s a good girl and will be heading home on her own. That’s all.  You want this action or have you lost your confidence then?” I smiled back and waited.

“Very well. It’s done.” He said and scribbled something on the paper.  “If you don’t mind I have some work to do.” And off he went, first to the two other guys, who looked over at me like I had a fish bowl on my head, and then toward little Miho, who was just finishing her song.

The last hour rolled by. I sang some songs, crooning into the mic, and I made some jokes with Ben who was turning out to be a damned funny guy.  All the while I kept an eye on Miho, who was getting more attention than she’d ever gotten in her life.  The poor fools, little did they know what she could do to them in the sack; suck their life force out and leave them for dead most likely.

But that wasn’t going to be an issue for them tonight.  The only issue would be the money leaving their respective wallets next week when I collected after, shockingly, disappointingly, none of them could get horny, drunk as a skunk Miho to come home with them.

None of them needed to know, of course, that she already had plans to come to my place after the party anyway.  Knowing that I won a few hundred dollars helped mediate the beating Miho gave me in the sack that night too, the alcohol working its endurance magic and me going for hours.

I had scars, marks and bruises for a week and a half.

But at least I won the bet and seeing Keith dejected, flagging down a cab to head to Roppongi with Brian and the plus sized Kung-fu princess in tow, in a desperate attempt to find some ass, anything, sent me to my midnight rendezvous of battle-sex with a smile.


gaijinassbannerThis is a chapter out of my ridiculous memoir I’m writing about my time and misadventures in Tokyo.  The title is called “J-girls.” Reader beware: I’m a horrible person and if you’re just figuring that out you haven’t been paying attention.



Aya, Akiko, Ayumi

June in Japan is mostly about humidity, or humidity and rain, or humidity, rain and no public holidays.

It’s the only month on the calendar with no public holidays and it’s also the month before exams in the Japanese school system.

In short, June was a fucking drag.

Despite this, June was an important month for me.  I had my first fight scheduled for early July and I was training hard in preparation for this.  It was a small venue, Differ, in Ariake against a nobody who had three fights already, but for me it was my debut and a big deal. I was training hard, sparring often and doing all the road work. I had even stopped eating meat as I heard it could negatively affect stamina.

I was also doing the rounds to all my schools and just hating every moment of it.  Standing in the front of a class of ten year olds and lamely trying to coordinate some activity with a nervous Japanese  teacher was like a kind of hell for me, and forcing myself to go to work was a day-by-day chore.

In one class in May, maybe my first class at that school, bunch of 5th graders so about 10-11 years old, I had been introduced and the teacher, a Japanese woman in her early thirties, asked the class:

“Does anyone have any other questions for Eric-Sensei?”

One boy in the middle of the class, little pudgy with a buzzed haircut, raised his hand.

Shitsumon arimasuka?” Do you have a question, she asked. He nodded.

Chin-chin ha nan centi desu ka?” How big is your dick?

I just sighed, looking at this kid as I felt the air in the room all being sucked out in slow motion, the teacher immediately locking her eyes away from me, freezing in place and turning bright red all at once.

Silence in the class room. Frigid and arctic silence, until one girl whispered.

Kimoi…” Gross…

After this I then made it my mission at this school to always make intense eye contact with that teacher every chance I got.

Kimoi, indeed.

So, June was rolling on.  Ayako, having finished her year of student teaching was an actual elementary school teacher this year and was losing her mind.  The life of a Japanese elementary school teacher is hectic and the life of a first year Japanese elementary school teacher is hellish.  She was at work till ten, nightly, unable to leave until her seniors left and they couldn’t leave until their seniors left who couldn’t leave until the vice principal left who then couldn’t leave until the Principal left.  It was bullshit and she was not around so much, just one or two weekends a month and even then, she was heavily burnt out.

One weekend she had attended a mandatory Nomikai, or drinking party for teachers, and gotten utterly smashed.  Mailing me that she had arrived at the station, after twenty minutes without her showing up I mailed back and got a singular reply.

In trees. Please come help me.

Just outside the flat across the little bridge toward the station, in a crop of bushes, there she was, lying  flat on her back; she had completely lost the use of her legs and tumbled over into the bushes.  I literally had to carry her to the apartment.  I think this was the only weekend in June I saw her at all.

Idle hands are the devils play thing.

So, Aya.

I had met Aya on AFF. She was 19, pre-med at some university, had braces and was a crazy kid.  She loved sex and loved being kinky.  Besides me, she was sometimes, kind of off and on again, sleeping with some 40 year old body builder who owned a private training gym in Roppongi.  His cock was about 20 centimeters long and huge and I knew this because she showed me a picture of it while she was riding me one time. Aya would get especially turned on when she could tie me up, hands above my head, and then tie up my cock and balls as well, and spend two hours licking me and making me go crazy. How she did this so well while having braces, I have no idea but it was amazingly, thankfully, not a factor.

Broke, I had borrowed thirty-thousand yen from her.  I actually paid her back too, so like, miracles do happen.

Akiko was a very cute, tall, student teacher, from Akita, whom I had  met the year before however it had taken me till June to trick her into sleeping with me, which I did and it was damned sweet because it took so long.

We had met off and on, always very platonic; a coffee here and a lunch there.  Then in June, after I had volunteered to help her at a festival for her university in Tama, we ended up back at her little apartment to eat dinner, shower, etc.  Just totally friendly, until I got some beer in her. Well, then it was making out, her face bright red from the booze, barely a single can drunk I might add, and then I had her stripped down to her conservative pink cotton panties in no time. What a body Akiko had; tall, long limbed, flat tight stomach, great firm titts and a very cute, very Japanese face with adorable yet alert brown eyes.  Laying there next to me on her futon she was really something to see and she got down between my legs on her knees and began sucking away on my throbbing cock.  I came in her mouth which, I think, shocked her as she looked totally at a loss of what to do with my load in her mouth finally with effort, gulping it down, and within five minutes I was hard again and had her turned around, ass up, face down and me pounding away.  It was all worth the wait.  Then, I borrowed thirty thousand yen from her because I was broke.

This, it turns out, really turned her off.  She was studying Cambodian in university as well, which turned me off.

Ayumi was a private student, 34 or 35, and a nurse at a hospital near Shinjuku.  I had been giving her lessons, at my flat, for about four or five months when one day, somehow, the topic of bondage and being tied up came up.  She had never been tied up so I explained that I was quite good at it, and if she ever wanted to experience that, no problem, I could help her.

Now, Ayumi wasn’t particularly pretty, but she had a nice body and a thick ass so when she said “Can you do it right now?”  I was immediately hard and up and gathering my ropes.

Tied at the wrists, behind her back, upper arms and breasts tied as well, all this over her clothing.  Then a double line of rope going from a loop around her waist down between her legs and back up her ass and tied to the wrists, this line was pulled tight putting pressure on her genitals through her jeans and she let out a very awkward and obviously uncontrollable moan/croak.  Once it was all tied up nice and tight I stepped back and sat down, staring at her.

We were in the little living room area and I was sitting down on these cream colored leather sofa chairs Peter and I had found outside some office building, while they were having a cleaning crew in, and absconded with.

“How does it feel?” I asked her, grinning.

She couldn’t even speak.  She was obviously losing her mind and sinking deep into that trance some subs can get.  Her first time, according to her, and she was already losing it and going deep.  I could see her sweating lightly and and every time she moved the ropes between her legs pulled and tugged on her clit, pussy and asshole a little more, her jeans and panties bulging up and adding to the pressure.  “Turn around and show me your ass.” I said flatly. She obeyed, slowly turning around, her legs shaking a little, and she stopped when her thick ass was facing me.

I unzipped my jeans and began jacking off.  I reached up and grabbed a handful of jeans and ass with my free hand and squeezed.  “Turn back around.”  She did and her eyes locked on my hard cock and me cranking it. “Get on your knees, Ayumi.” With a little difficulty she got down first on one knee, then the other.  I stood up right in front of her so the head of my cock actually touched her nose, pushed at the base of it awkwardly and I kept it there so she could smell my dick.  She let out a high pitched noise, kind of a moan, and I then began to rub my shaft all over her soft face, damp from sweat.  Her mouth was agape and she clearly wanted it filled, which I helped her with by grabbing a handful of her hair, and thrusting my cock, balls deep, into her mouth and throat.  The gagging and choking was immediate and epic, I let it pass and then looked at her, drool dripping from her chin now and nothing she could do but let it.

“Do you want this cock in your mouth?” I asked her, hands on my hips, cock shooting up at 45 degrees, gleaming in the lamp light with her spit and mucous all over it.

“Yes sir, please.”

Her “First time” my ass. This slut had been around the block and that was fine with me.

I gave her a royal, hour long, face fucking, finally, cumming in her mouth around eight-thirty.

Ayumi and I would move on to sex and more restraining and humiliation through June and over the summer all of it culminating in her tied up, wearing a diaper with me throwing almonds at her which she was supposed to catch in her mouth, then soon thereafter I borrowed her digital camera, and seventy-thousand yen from her, because I needed a camera to take pics of girls I was humping and the money because I was broke.

Neither of these ever got returned.

June was a busy month in 2005.



This is a chapter out of my ridiculous memoir I’m writing about my time and misadventures in Tokyo.  The title is called “J-girls.” Reader beware: I’m a horrible person and if you’re just figuring that out you haven’t been paying attention.



Although my head was largely inserted in my own ass all through 2004, I can remember clearly and state that the phone website, TokyoGaijin, and  the website Adult Friend Finder were connecting me with lots of women who were very eager to sow their wild oats.

I had no game what-so-ever at this time either. My life consisted of jogging and shadow boxing in the mornings, going to one of my schools to do as little as possible during the day , and then me dragging my sorry ass to the gym to be beaten up and exhausted after work.  Money was tight and the rice and canned tuna menu reigned supreme with Wednesday night pizza and beer, courtesy of Ayako.

I didn’t have many friends at this time, any friends really, except for the occasional coffee with another ALT after a work function. So, the loneliness coupled with my intense sexual appetite and general boredom meant I’d spend 4 or 5 hours a night reading blogs about BDSM, Japanese pick-up (nobody had ever heard of “The Game”, by Neil Strauss yet, but Japan had a structured and developed pick up community. It’s called “Nanpa”) and hanging out on AFF and TokyoGaijjin, respectively.  I was fascinated with SM, Sado-Masochism, and particularly with Japanese binding and rope work or “Shibari”.

In Japanese, “Shibari” simply means “to tie”. The contemporary meaning of Shibari describes an ancient Japanese artistic form of rope bondage.

I found “Shibari” explained well. Here you go:

The origin of Shibari comes from Hojo-jutsu, the martial art of restraining captives. In Japan from 1400 to 1700, while the local police and Samurai used Hojo-jutsu as a form of imprisonment and torture, the honor of these ancient Samurai warriors required them to treat their prisoners well. So, they used different techniques to tie their prisoners, showing the honor and status of their captured prisoner.

In the late 1800′s and early 1900′s a new form of erotic Hojo-justu evolved, called Kinbaku, the art of erotic bondage. Today, particularly in the west, the art of erotic bondage is typically called Shibari, which is an art of erotic spirituality, not a martial art.


Honor. Erotic spirituality. Samurai.


I just thought it was humiliating as hell for the person being tied up and this turned me on to no end.  Also, the feeling of domination and control one must have when the woman is utterly helpless in front of you, more than normal, seemed incredible.  I couldn’t get enough of this and devoured articles and videos and pictures.

Enter Chiho.

A find on TokyoGaijin, Chiho was 33 years old.  She looked like she was my age.  Her face was cute with a white, straight little smile and very Japanese features elsewhere; small Asian eyes, round smooth cheeks and chin and a somewhat flatter nose; baby-faced.  Her hair was straightened and colored brown and it parted down the middle.

Her body was slamming; Really  nice.  She was perhaps 5’2, naturally tanned; she had full perky breasts, a flat stomach, smooth firm thighs and a thick round ass.  Good God, that ass, I can still clearly remember it. Before we met she and I mailed for a couple of weeks and she dutifully sent me pictures of her, nearly daily, in different sexy panties, on all fours, flaring her lovely thick butt up in the air.  By the time we met the anticipation had risen to a ludicrous level.

In our mails, we had also discussed her ex-bf, some Italian and how huge his cock was.  I loved it.  I wasn’t sure why but whenever it was mentioned I imagined her being filled by it and that made me ravenous.  I was intent on devouring this little woman.

In addition to this it became clear that Chiho was submissive, Masochistic sexually, and was interested in going deeper with that.

Perfect fit? Correct.

Although I had plans to meet Ayako on Christmas Day, I decided to meet Chiho, for the first time, on Christmas eve.  I didn’t fully understand the gravity of this decision then.  In Japan, Christmas eve is the date night to end all other date nights.  It’s the night when the guy is supposed to take the girl on the most romantic date of the year.  The city is bedazzled in ridiculous and inappropriate Christmas “Illumination”. For example one display was “Merry Christmas Circus” complete with a Santa holding a ring of red lights as fire with a brilliant glowing green dragon flying through it, everyone would be out, holding hands and pretending they really liked each other.

On the other hand, Christmas day doesn’t really mean anything.  Most Japanese simply go to work as usual.  So, in my mind I had arranged to meet Ayako on the more important day, Christmas, and the new girl on the evening that didn’t really matter.

Well, it mattered to Chiho.

She showed up at my apartment with a shoulder bag and two big shopping bags from Isetan, an upscale department  store in Shinjuku.  It was about six PM. The plan was for me to cook and we would have dinner and relax, and after that, I would tie her up and do kinky things to her body all night.

Merry Christmas.

Well, she came with everything in tow; all the holiday goodies.  She’d purchased a spectacular cake at Isetan.  We had marinated olives and stuffed peppers and gourmet meatloaf with candied sweet potatoes.  Roast duck with chestnut and ricotta stuffing.  Two bottles of Champagne, the real kind not that Mexican piss, and a decent bottle of red wine, a Shiraz if I remember correctly.

Then, I had Chiho and she was falling in love with me, literally, in front of my eyes and I could see it clearly.  Oh, what tender feelings of domination and control this caused to well up inside of me.  A couple of hours after dinner and most of the bubbly gone, we were kissing and I was slowly groping her breasts and backside, purposefully taking as much time as possible to slowly take her clothes off.  She had dressed well with a tight turtle neck sweater and a dark, tight-fitting, short skirt and dark tights.  Under it all she was wearing a dark red and white matching lace thong panty and bra.  Once I had removed everything else I took several minutes to admire my present and it’s immaculate wrapping job, slowly running my hand over the back of her thigh and ass as she laid on the futon next to me.  I was…amazingly hard, but for some reason, putting off getting to it.

This would become a trend and eventually a kind of addiction for me over the years.  It’s called “pleasure delay.” The premise is simple: draw out and extend the act for as long as possible without reaching the climax.  So, when the climax comes, it’s exponentially stronger.

Sure, this is true, but there is more to it once one enters into the world of SM and bondage.  Pleasure delay is something most submissives get accustomed too and crave.  Being bond or tied or whatever, they have little control over the stimulus they’re receiving and a skilled “Dom” or dominant, will draw this out, taking time to activate and arouse all the right zones, multiple times over if he/she is really good, before getting to it and inducing a mind bending orgasm so intense it can knock the sub unconscious.

I’ve seen it. I’ve done it.  It ain’t pretty either.  The girl starts shaking and gyrating, often begging me to stop insisting she is going to pee all over herself, then either high-pitched grinding squeals or low moaning croaks, or both, can occur and then usually some drool or spit with more gyrating and then the giant moan, exhalation of breath and yeah, sometimes there is some pee, sometimes a discharge of something else and maybe even the occasional queef or fart and it’s over.

You have gained access to the Tower of Coitus, and have read the level 13 ninja scroll of FUCK.

If the Dom is watching the sub’s face, occasionally, you can see her/his eyes roll back in their head and they go limp.  They’ve passed out due to cumming to hard and or flexing the muscles in their neck or holding their breath.

The kind of open little secret which people seem to know but not talk about though, is that while the Dom is domming, putting this sub through the steps and drawing things out to maximize the masochistic helpless of it all, the Dom is actually applying the same punishment to him/her self.  While I’m forcing Chiho or Ayako or Megumi or whoever to endure this long build up to the main meal, I’m also forcing myself to endure it and that’s just self-imposed Masochism.  So, do the math, most Dom’s are also extreme subs under the right conditions.

But those conditions weren’t tonight. And Chiho-chan already had a leather collar fastened around her neck.

I’d gone out and spent some of my fortune, meaning money to pay a mobile phone bill, on a leather collar, a fair amount of hemp rope, some duct tape (red) and a ball gag.  If you aren’t familiar with ball gags, go goggle or it or better yet, try reading a different book because I’m just getting warmed up.


Soon, following instructions I’d found on some video online, she was tied up and well.  The rope started around the upper body encircling her upper arms and going above and below her breasts.  Then a knot was tied in between her breasts pulling the ropes together causing her already full titts to bulge and swell up, her nipples became instantly hard and ultra sensitive.  I played with and teased them as I continued to secure the rope work behind her, binding her arms, behind her back and crossed above the small of her back.  Her forearms and wrists securely tied but not uncomfortably so.

I then turned her around, continually flicking her nipples and quickly, without conversation, pushed the ball gag into her petite little mouth.

“Bite down on it.” I told her.

She did and I pulled the strap tightly in the back of her head which elicited a small moan from her.  Turning her back around to face me, a wave of mind numbing desire flooded over me seeing her cute soft cheeks bulging against the tight leather band of the gag, her mouth slightly agape due to the red ball filling it up, with nothing she could say or do, and her eyes…looking up at me with complete and total embarrassment and surrender.

I was so horny I nearly left the room.  I’d never been that turned on before.

Seeing this incredibly cute woman, so helpless, horny, and submissive was like what I imagine that first shot of heroin is like for junkies; just completely fucking amazing.

I felt like a lion circling a wounder gazelle.  It was my first hit on a crack pipe and I was already hooked.

I spent nearly forty five minutes working her clit, which began to swell a bit, tonguing her and fingering her.  She orgasmed, clearly with an awkward moan, while being fingered hard; three deep.  Later I took the gag off, and set her on her knees and thoroughly enjoyed face fucking her, repeatedly pushing my shaft all the way to let my balls rest on her chin and I would pet her head.  “Good girl. Good girl baby.  Does that taste amazing? Do you love that cock?”

She would just look up at me and blink and barely nod, moaning.

The gag went back on, tightly again and I proceeded to aggressively pound this little woman’s hole.  This was not a tender moment but an athletic event.  Position after position and time was flying by. I’d past the initial climax stage while I was in her mouth and now was in the marathon stage; I could go forever.  I was tall, big and fit and was unloading on this little diminutive creasture and she was absolutely all about it. Her moans were loud and eager and she made eye contact with me whenever the position allowed her to.  I was constantly talking to her “Is this what you like you horny bitch? This?” And she would moan and nod and I’d lightly slap her face.

As the hour mark approached of this combat assault on her vagina I realized I would never cum like this although she had already come again with me ontop.  So, I took a break, poured a glass of wine, and untied her slowly.  I moved to take off the gag, maybe just a slow blowjob I thought, but she stopped me.  She liked it. She liked the tight, constricting and humiliating stimulation of the gag.  After that she couldn’t even look me in the eye having revealed a new layer to her own sexual psychosis.  This really turned the heat up for me, knowing how humiliated she was but how eager too and I pounded her from behind, spanking and grabbing handfuls of her firm tanned ass cheeks, while pulling her long dark brown pony tail hard.  Grunting loudly “Fuck yes make me cum slut.” I went right to the edge and pulled out, violently jacking off and yanking her by her hair back around to face me. I stood up and pushed my dick against her face and squeezed the part just below the head and several streams of hot cum spewed up and down her face. Some of it into her nose and even her hair.  Exhausted I realized I was nearly lifting her off the ground with one hand to do this and I let her go, Chiho collapsing to the tatami floor and me immediately walking out of the room.

I walked, naked, across the apartment, the shit hole, to the front door and opened it. We were the last apartment on an open air cat walk. Freezing cold air rushed in and electrified the sweat on my chest and face and the juice covering my cock, balls and groin. With the breeze I could smell someone making nabe, or Japanese stew, and I could smell our sex.  I don’t recommend this combination, by the way.

After maybe a minute, I’m not sure, I was floating, I closed the door and walked back in grabbing a kitchen towel.

I the room Chiho was just laying there, ballgag still securely in her mouth with her eyes closed.  She didn’t move. I went over, sat down and cleaned her off.  I removed the gag.  For perhaps ten minutes we didn’t speak she just laid her head in my lap.  I then poured her a glass of wine as well, we started chatting and then I opened the present she had gotten for me, a lovely and fairly expensive cappuccino machine, I had gotten her nothing, and explained this away with an excuse about a late delivery and an undependable online vendor. She didn’t seem to care.

We drank the wine and listened to music. She stayed over.

Christmas Morning, Chiho and I had at it again, a more contemporary fashion this time though. She left after a couple of failed tries on the cappuccino machine, finally got one right and we shared it.  I gave her a kiss goodbye, said “Merry Christmas, baby” and spanked her lovely butt as she turned and walked off. I watched her go, really feeling an affection for her. I knew I would be dating her. She was a keeper, I thought to myself.  How was this girl, this woman, not married yet? She lived with her parents and clearly was in search of a partner.  It boggled my mind.

I showered, went for a run, showered again and then made a couple calls to family and changed the sheets on my futon, opened the windows and let some air in.

Ayako came over around four PM and she was carrying all kinds of goodies as well.  Before we did anything, we had sex.  And it was good. Very good. I was took the aggression up a few notches and she seemed to love it.  Pulled her hair a bit more and slapped her ass a bit harder.  She responded by bucking back into me ever harder.

I told her after that how much I cared about her, and I meant it. Ayako was a good girl, also a keeper, and I was happy she was there with me.

After all the eating  and drinking and more sex, about midnight we laid down to sleep.  In the dark, just before I slipped into the dream world, I spontaneously started giggling to myself. I couldn’t control it and it lasted for nearly a minute.  Ayako woke up and asked me if I was okay.

Yeah.  “I’m okay.” I said.

I’m incredible.