“You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed with sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes.”
Hemingway -The Sun also Rises-
Immigration, the Saga continues…
“Sir, do you know how many laws you have broken in this country?”
I kind of stare at her blankly, my face a mask of perplexed regret, and I mumble something like “Um, two I…guess?”
“Twelve. You have broken twelve laws in this country.”
She says this impassively, staring at me blankly and I let out a groan which I manage to turn into something that might be considered a remorseful whimper. The translator sitting off to the side of the table between myself and the Ministry of Justice official groans as well and rubs a hand over his face while shaking his head but he never looks away from the TV set mounted on the wall that he can watch through the window of the little white interview room.
“Twelve?” I ask, my face contorted into a wince. She makes a show of looking down at the file, at the tomb, of information about me that sits in front of her and looks back up at me.
“Twelve.”
A moment of silence ensues and is finally broken when the translator lets out a huge sigh and shoots me a barely noticeable side long glance. Then he lightly shakes his head and lets out another sigh which sounds like air slowly escaping a tire.
The MOJ official blinks slowly, her hands palms down on the table on either side of the two-inch-thick file and then speaks.
“Do you know which laws you have broken in this country?”
In my years of skimming along the tight rope and reveling in the grey area of things, I have found that on occasion it’s best to just lay it all out there, on the table if you will, and try to be as honest and forth right as possible. It’s a fantastic way to throw the hounds of the scent if what they have been sniffing around for is prime rib bullshit.
“OK. Well, there was definitely the assault and grievous bodily injury thing. Then the over-staying my visa and illegal residency thing; which I am really sorry about. Oh, and some late taxes, if you consider that a law…”
I hear my translator snicker out loud and then sigh again and I have to wonder how I am yet again, sitting on the 6th floor of the Tokyo Immigration building in lovely Shinagawa, once again without any legal status in this country and wondering if I am going to be playing blackjack with big Tony and the savages up on the 10th floor after dinner this evening.
Trust No One
I had done it all in what is considered a legal and timely fashion. September 26th I was at immigration and I was doing the paper work.
I was standing in lines.
I was smiling and paying fees.
Damn these people to hell if they think they are getting GJS this time around. The speedy and well-coordinated application for a visa extension had been accomplished and I was sent away to await word, via post card, of its completion.
Nearly two months passed, and on November 20th I finally received the post card from immigration telling me to report by the 26th in order to get my new visa. A phone call on the same day verified that I had received this and I felt pretty good about it all. This should have been my first warning sign.
Immigration closes at 1700 Monday-Friday and is not open on the weekends. So, by the time the 26th had rolled around I knew I had to go. The thing was, I had the 27th off. What I decided was simple: I would call immigration at lunch on the 26th. I would explain that I had the following day off and if possible I would like to come in on that day and take care of everything. IF though, that wouldn’t work, I would simply cut out of work early on the 26th and go over there before they closed.
I made the call. Hello. I received my post card. Yes, my name is Gaijinass. No I don’t have my application number in front of me. I am American. Yes, I was told to report to the D-5 counter. Well, if possible I would like to come in tomorrow as I have the day off but if it’s impossible, I can come after lunch today. Really, can you check? Thank you. Sure, I’ll hold.
Shitty immigration on hold holiday music.
Hello, yes I’m here. Really, I can come tomorrow? You’re certain it’s OK? Wonderful. Thank you. Yes, I will be careful coming there tomorrow and thank you for the rain warning. Thank you. Yes, thank you too. Hung up.
It seemed everything was fine and I could go in on the 27th to pick up and finalize my visa. Lovely.
Please come with us
Try this: Stand at the D-5 counter on the 2nd floor in the immigration center. Have someone come to the counter and tell you that you can no longer get a visa at that counter and they would like to talk to you in “another area”. Now enjoy the 3 MOJ officials, guards, in full uniform, who come out, one in front of you, two behind and “ask” you to come with them. Now, tell me your guts don’t liquidate right then and there. Mine sure as hell did.
The situation was laid down simply enough.
That postcard one receives from immigration is akin to a letter from GOD. The date upon it is not a recommendation but a deadline and the circumstances surrounding that date are not possibly and maybe but rather set-in-stone-absolute-law.
The aggressively pot-bellied MOJ official that screamed at, berated and lectured me up on six put it succinctly in a way only the Japanese could manage.
“You are now an illegal resident here, again. We know that you called immigration and talked to someone, even though you did not record their name. We saw the call duration on your mobile. your version of the conversation seems credible and we believe it. That does not matter though. The law is the law and it is broken and you are illegal now. We know that it is our fault but finally it is your fault and that is all that can be said or done about it. Do you understand?
It remind me starkly of that scene from Goodfellas.
Options?
Sure I could scream and yell; cuss this grotesque bureaucrat out, kick him in the head and walk out of here. I could wail and decry an antiquated system totally lacking in flexibility and insist on contacting the embassy. But I had a question first.
” I see, may I ask frankly, am I going to be detained again?”
“It’s a possibility, we are not certain yet.”
My extensive experience in both life and here in Japan then led me to believe that another course of action, not the high and mighty act, was in my best interest. The time-honored tradition of groveling. Some might look down on me for this but I would dare to say these would be people who have never actually been locked up for any real amount of time and if they have been, have never nearly been locked up only to escape it via begging and pleading.
I have done both.
I let my posture and body language resemble that of toady. I espoused the virtues of Japanese immigration and the legal system as a whole. I accepted total blame for the current situation and I apologized for any inconvenience I might have caused the ever powerful and omni-benevolent immigration office. I even considered hinting that due to his rugged good looks, my MOJ liaison must certainly be a well-known man about town with the ladies, and I could introduce him to one or two Russian lookers I knew if he so desired but I thought better of it. Then I walked out of there at 1800 with a follow-up appointment for the following Thursday.
Say what you like. Groveling has its place; and I am damned proficient at it.
You’re lucky you aren’t African
So, she explained that in addition to the assault and grievous bodily harm, the illegal residency, there were also several tax issues, issues involving my avoiding the authorities, association with “undesirable persons” while on probation, exporting controlled chemical compounds without a license and violation of the limitations of a past visa. I accomplished this while fighting professionally while residing here under a humanities visa; a violation I hadn’t even known about. She ended the speech with “And these are the things we have on record.” She then closed the file in front of her and put her hands back on the table, palms down and stared at me.
“I’m sorry…?” I whispered.
She then went on to lecture me on what had changed in the immigration law as of late. Explaining that if I received a new visa I would be given a Zairyu card and would no longer need to carry my passport and alien registration card everywhere I went which was, I was told, the former letter of the law. This intrigued me and I asked to clarify and to keep our conversation well away from the contents of the file in front of her…
“So, up until now, I had to carry both all the time?”
And now, for the first time since he arrived half way through an eight-hour interview, the translator finally spoke up.
“Yeah man, the new law, way better than that old bullshit doing system.” He had turned to face me, still in between the MOJ official and myself and I took him in for the first time; normal height, slight of build, worn jeans, cashmere black Hermes sweater, gold chain, gold ring, Rolex. Salt and pepper hair well-kept and swept back.
He was standing now, presumably to stretch, and he said loudly, “Man, it was like, if you are in Roppongi doing some kind of private business, you know? You still need to have it in your hands like this.” And at that, he held his right hand in the air, I guess to signify holding the necessary documents, and then began pumping is hips forward miming the act of fornication with a woman from behind, complete with his left hand making smacking gestures to what I can only assume, would have been the poor imaginary woman’s ass end.
I sat there, stunned, and looked slowly over toward the MOJ woman, who was staring at me, blinking slowly, but whom apparently was either oblivious to what this all meant or simply didn’t care because she didn’t flinch; not a bit.
The translator laughed loudly and fell back into his chair, ran a hand through his hair, then leaned forward and whispered to me, “Don’t worry man. You got no problem. You totally getting this the visa, man. You’re white. USA passport. I used to work for the Navy, man. You’re lucky you ain’t African man or you would be on a fucking boat floating to the sea already.”
At this he let out another laugh, then shook his head and turned again to watch the TV mounted on the wall outside our little clubhouse.
Later, after the interview was over, he approached me in the hall and explained that he was really interested in learning to fight and wanted me to give him lessons. He had read my file and “Man, you fucked that guy up. Awesome. I need to learn how to take people out. How much per hour?”
Mystified, I told it was 5,000 yen per hour. He said fine but explained that due to contractual issues he could not give me his contact info at immigration and asked me, very cloak and dagger, to drop my info at a hamburger joint in Shimokitazawa. His friend was the owner and he would pass it along and then he’d get back to me. It pays to have friends in bizarre places I have learned, and I agreed to do just that.
Over the next several weeks, immigration made me do many a meeting and interview. They needed this paper from here, that paper from there and I did it all with a smile. I would have come to each of there homes individually and done a jig with bells on if it would have helped my chances. The idea of two back to back special permission of residency visa’s seemed ludicrous, despite the unique circumstances.
And on the 28th of December, I got my new Visa and on the 29th I met the translator; who is an absolute lunatic. What I have taken away from all this is an understanding that although Japan is chock full of rules, there actually are none that are hard and fast. Everything here is a guideline and if you can work the system, you can get by. I also reaffirmed my belief in groveling as a form of progression through life. There is a time and a place for righteous anger and proclamations of morality and logic; dealing with ANY Japanese paper pusher is not one of those times.
If you like this, you might like:
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| Update from the Penthouse Prison | Pink Box: Inside Japan’s Sex Clubs | Interview with Adult Model: Erika Satou | Sports teams: That Time has deemed offensive | White Woman : Japan Sex |
Gaijinass 
Wow, another great story and insight into an area I’ve never experienced – and one I hope I never have to. I’m looking forward to coming back this spring.
Thanks man. and yeah, I don’t recommend traveling this path. Don’t recommend it at all.
Groveling is a fine art. I do not do it well. Fact is unless I am trying to convince someone to be okay with something f***ed up or trying to get away with something F***ed up I cant get anywhere. If it is at all normal I am screwed. I need groveling lessons. I also need to figure out how my father can use anger to solve any situation. I have seen him scream, curse, and threaten people in public all the time and it always ends in everyone scrambling to please him. I try the anger approach and first comes the weird look of fear (that always makes me want to mutilate them) followed by someone threatening to call the police. When my email showed you had a new post up I was all happy, then I saw the title and felt like I wanted to vomit. I decided to get drunk before I read this post incase it did not turn out well. Thank god it has a happy ending. Real glad you get to stay and keep writing about that place I call heaven on earth (Nippon). Good luck in all you do. May the year of the snake be your best yet. Cheers (yeah still drinkin and cant feel my face…now to check out that other post…).
Groveling, it has to be used sparingly and the timing must be perfect.
I figured the sparingly part. Perhaps someday you can help me on the exactly when, the timing, and any other secrets you may hold to this art. Time to mix a drink. The jumbalaya and garlic-cheddar-beer-bread were awesome together, but I just feel a little off. So through it out about half way through. Maybe rum holds the answer to this night not sucking.
Well it works very well with those that are obsessed with “The System”. This is what I have found anyway. When there is a choice that can be made and it’s up to some bloated sycophant, they relish the chance to matter. One groveling appropriately while not appearing disingenuous, is like heroin for these nobodies.
Some loser lording over someone and enjoying the bully position is something that makes it hard for me to stay calm. Nothing is better than getting one of these types alone and letting them know just how alone and helpless they are at that moment. At the same time, I can identify with wanting to matter. I wouldn’t want it that way, at the cost of someone else’s dignity. Hm, still this groveling thing could be useful. I have a problem with my body and emotions and intent never sinking up unless I am doing something …well… most the time I am all out of wack. My body language will say one thing, my face another, my tone yet another, and my feelings yet another all while my intent is yet somehow still different from each of the previous. I sometimes look the total opposite of what I am feeling or thinking. This is a useful skill (groveling) and I may need it oneday, so I better get it figured out before that time comes. Gaijin, you have had a lot of close calls. Don’t take it for granted. Play it as safe as you can. Hug those close to you that are there in Japan, you almost lost them again. I am not a hugger type, so on the off chance any of your buddies (there in Nippon/Nihon/Japan/Heaven on earth) aren’t into that then have a beer with them instead.God I F***ING HATE THE HOLIDAY SEASON! I can’t take another year of this. Gotta get a plan together so I can avoid next years holidays. Just drank the last of my rum.
Nice work of fiction, eh! It was fucking amusing but ya need to own it as the fantasy it is. I’ma gaijin vet since 1996, and I know that they’ve tightened Imm laws a no. of times.
The last big time was 2000. Little to no room to move for visa overstayers, those who’ve done criminal activities (small or big) etc unless they’re a rich Korean Japanese, rich Chinese Japanese, important bizmen, etc.
The other changes since 2000 have given even less room to move.
If you’re still there you’re married to a J native/have a hafu kid. Or powerful and influential. Which you aint.
A whitey Yankee has little influence in J land these days. The days of bowing and scraping and ‘wakarimasen’ went out about a decade ago. 1 visa overstay is enough to throw your silly whiteboy ass outta the country.
You either are married to a J national w/ a hafu kid or you’re a member of the diplomatic corps.
Judging by your idiocy on this blog you’re as thick as pigshit and wouldn’t be in Japan if you’d even looked like overstaying your visa. The other stuff is crap.
Grow up.
“the assault and grievous bodily harm, the illegal residency, there were also several tax issues, issues involving my avoiding the authorities, association with “undesirable persons” while on probation, exporting controlled chemical compounds without a license and violation of the limitations of a past visa” : I am very amazed right now how any foreigner could get a VISA of any kind after all those actions. Illegal residency, I don’t know, but bodily harm? And on probation, association with, I guess, very bad sort of people. I mean, on probation? So no self-control? And the chemical compound thing is just a shock to me. Holy Sh*t.
But nonetheless, nice quote of Hemingway. I never trusted people who hang around cafés for too long. I’m talking about people who hang around cafés during bright daytime. It seems like they have nothing to care about. They just sit there and talk and talk and talk. I’d like to add I’ve always hated people who talk a lot.
Glad you didn’t get booted out. & yes apologies and groveling can go a long way in certain situations. haha Interesting story to read.
Glad someone seems to know the “rules” so to speak.
“Chock full of rules…” yep. Having been in similar situation, as far as being at the mercy of the paper-pushers, I didn’t actually grovel – although I think that’s what was expected. I did have to practice patience and kindly suggest to my wife that we go across the street to relax over a cup of coffee. Wifey was ready to start screaming and shouting insults. That wouldn’t have been good. No, not at all.
The next day was not much better, only I was on my own. In my mind, it was like tea ceremony. Every movement prescribed. Nobody gets it right the first time. Nobody.
Imagine having hand delivered an application the day before only to have a person go through a box of papers and shrugged, saying, “Well, it’s not here.”
Calmly, without the wife around, “I brought the paperwork in yesterday at 9:30, as requested, and handed it to Ms. Tanaka.”
***
Yeah, Tanaka. We were the only people in the place at the time and she did not acknowledge us until we stood right in front of her.
“May I help you?” she had said while not doing a good job at looking surprised.
After she had given us the forms, she didn’t tell us which window we needed to go to next until we specifically asked her. Wifey would have gone ballistic had she not been distracted by the lure of a cup of redemption.
“Honey…this looks like it’s going to take some time. Hey, why don’t we grab a nice cup of coffee some place where we can sit down?” Across the street. Where her voice wouldn’t carry.
***
The next day, I was relieved to be on my own when, at the next level, feet-on-the-desk, smirking Mr. Important went through the box of applications a second time and, what do you know, it was on the very bottom.
The entire time, I did my best to show or have no emotion whatsoever. Wasn’t anything I could have done anyway. And I wasn’t about to beg because I had actually done everything that was requested of me. Jumped through every fucking hoop like a good dog. And the timing just wasn’t right for a boot-lick or smoke blowing. If there was another hoop, I was ready. Back straight. Hands on knees. I never argued. Only agreed.
And somehow I’d gotten it right the first time. Maybe because I was prepared to be nobody.
First time for everything.
Exactly. Well when your position is CONCRETE, no need to go the G route. You have a bit of a high ground. I knew in mine that, as he said, it was their fault but it was mine so…
Great comment Will. Send links to your site when you got it bumping. GJS wants to read.
Even though my position may have been solid, it was a still a ‘position’ that was thoroughly dominated. And I was expected to like it. “Thank you sir. May I have another…”
Can’t say my site is ‘bumping’ in that it might not be view-able on smart phones and tablets.
The
most recent post‘s interesting material comes from Keyes. After that, I would recommend the following posts: ‘An Old School Bad Boy’ and ‘Japan: The Small Print’ – for starters. And maybe a peek at the policy.
The blog has been ‘active’ since 2011…but is not intended to live longer than another month or so.
Anyway, whatever.
I enjoy reading you stuff.
Dear Gajinass,
Some people might think that red robot is really a jerk. Really. I mean, have you ever wondered how he gets around? You’d think he’d be a little more sympathetic towards those who don’t quite roll like the rest of us. But nooooo, evidently he’s too busy trying to look cool in front of the girls.
Since you are familiar with how people ‘sort things out’ and as you are kind of ‘in the know’ when it comes to a number of those sweet sciences, do you think The Man would be interested in a grudge match? I’d love to see him open up a can o’ whoop ass.
If you do manage to set up a match, I’ll be cheering for the local guy in blue. And next time that droid in the red shorts might think twice about double parking his square pants.
Wuddaya think?
-Will
PS
You and your Cracked crew could have a lot of fun with this. You are more than welcome to use the pic, unaccredited, in the last link. This topic deserves just a little more attention.
Whatever…
Cheers Will. I think we have a new version of RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE on our hands. TAKE DOWN IN TOKYO anyone?
Jesus Christ, it’s one adventure after another for you. On the bright side you’ll always have interesting things to write about!
True enough. There is tons of stuff I have never even touched on but as time passes, it’s more likely that I can put pen to paper without people trying to kill me.
Congrats for another great story, I’ always enjoy to read the articles of gaijinness.
I’ not african but, I’ really felt like it must said…
Was such strange the part it’s says ”You’re lucky you aren’t African”….
Well, I ‘ understand Africans aren’t’ very welcome everywhere but, on the other hand, Africa never had nuked Japan… This world is sick man.
The reality is simple: People in power, meaning the very rich, don’t care who nuked who, and are heavily connected with the USA and the UK. If you want answers always follow the money.
Well, first of all, is an afro american the man in charge in USA from a long time so, again it’s make not sense at all…
I’ hope don’t be miss understood but, I’ not really looking for any answers, mine, was an affirmation about non sense sick world and racist brainless people ideas.
By the way, if we are living on the same planet, we all know the USA is on the cliff of financial debit and economy collapse so, that rich big proudly country and the old well known american dream, exist only for those who is still sleeping, Well, maybe only the proud is still same…
This is FACT my friend.
Again, congrats for your article, was really fun to read it but, next time please just try don’t’ seed any discrimination, it could turn back to your gaijin-ass someday.
Hope you like the ”trocadilho”…Lol
All the best. =)
Carlos man, thanks for the comment. And I’m not seeding shit. I am reporting what was said in an actual conversation. So, I understand what you mean, but at the same time, I dislike how everyone feels the need to be so careful while talking or writing. It’s my right as a human to say what I want. If it offends people, they should go else where. “I’m offended!” SO WHAT? What does that mean? Nothing. Someone else being simply offended by whatever is meaningless. It simply does not effect me.
“He’s gone…and there’s nothing we could do..”
Man…fucking classic scene.
@Carlos
Why don’t you shut the fuck up or maybe I can beat your black fucking mexican brazilian fucking beaner brains in with a nice pair of brass knuckles you fucking bitch.
Is that you in the avatar? How about I kick your big armed ass you clown ass bitch boy.
You like? You like get beat motherfucker? If you wanna threaten Gaijinass then fucking threaten him and spare everyone the;
“it could turn back to your gaijin-ass someday.”
Could turn back? You could get hit by a fucking Kuro neko truck tomorrow or a badass white dude could stomp on your fucking neck until your dead…lotta things “could” happen to anyone.
@Gaijinass
I get headaches just reading it. The two inch thick notebook part…I had to sit while people wrote shit again and again and again on several occasions and it was fucking insanity inducing for me. Japan….could they whip out some fucking neuro scanner…a mini recorder?…a fucking computer for fucks sake? Even Fukuoka major crimes section was just bigger and angrier….dudes with notebooks.
Well, first of all the avatar is me and this is a public space so I’m free to expose my opinion based in FACTS whatever I want, you little pussy.
Considering your argumentation, your ass is probably jealous about how much shit come out from your mouth,
It’s no doubt about your stupidity, so, you believe also to be a true badass isn’t’? It’s really easy AND SAFE for you, to menace someone staying behind your pc monitor, Isn’t’?
What a clown you are… Don’t’ you realize it? But you make me laugh… Lol
I’ll not waste my time too much introducing my self talking about my chute boxing black belt, competitions at sanda circuit, my Brazilian JJ graduation or simply my actual MMA routine…
You are just one more sucker bitch who agree with some stupid ideas, and and don’t’ waste an opportunity to show how shitty you are.
You could come with wherever you want than I could easily kick your empty brainless head off your shoulders or simply choke and put you to sleep, you little insect.
I’ recommend you keep your brains farts under control and all your shit talk..
It could make you get hurt someday, you dirt ass shit hole.
And shut fuck up stupid insect.
VAI TOMAR NO MEIO DO SEU RABO FILHO DA PUTA. =)
“Considering your argumentation, your ass is probably jealous about how much shit come out from your mouth,”
Considering your English…maybe you should …oh…I dunno?….Shut the fuck up?
“I’ll not waste my time too much introducing my self talking about my chute boxing black belt, competitions at sanda circuit, my Brazilian JJ graduation or simply my actual MMA routine…”
oops…looks like you wasted your time and mine anyway.
All that training and all I gotta do is pick up a fucking rock and smash it through your teeth and stuff it down your throat.
Eu tomo uma pedra e eu enfiá-lo em sua boca grande e outra vez. Você deve se lembrar que o mundo não é um anel e não há árbitro para lhe ajudar. Aproveite a sua vida e ficar longe de pessoas como eu.
How do you spell “WHITE PRIDE”? Man you get real quick. We have GOT to get drinking in Tokyo OR I’m gonna have to get to one of your legendary BBQs in your AO. Thanks for the comments man.
That “someday” shit (aimed at you but felt by me) has been hurled at me forever and someday has come and gone and …it just flips me out..i heard it so much.
He looks big and his skill set is long…he should keep it down and surprise folks with his sweet science skills cuz now I just wanna bounce a fucking rock off his big head and break one of his big arms by stomping on it and then go eat a fucking sandwich or something until everyone gets the “that wasn’t cool” crap off their chests while i run my tongue across my full set of teeth wondering if my Nolan Ryan fast stone took all his out.
I believed in “fair” until being beaten with everything they could smash off of me when I was 12 after i beat their friend up in the ring.
Ring +Ref = Rules.
I saw a 100lb Flip bend down like he was tying his shoes at Ala moana beach park and in an instant he lept straight up and japed something through the eye of a 200+lb Samoan who lost his eye and almost his life…the big moke shoulda stomped on him when he crouched…i thought it then and I always do now. If someone even …
I was gonna do a post but fuck it…
I saw a white Benz infront of my crib last night and thought it was a Yak from outta town since the locals know me. I walked down the street with a 1.2 million volt Double Trouble stun gun in my left hand and brass knucks on the right and sit down staring into the car from across the street…I couldn’t for the life of me see inside but the plates were not Guch or Hiroshima so i tapped on the drivers window with my knucks and flipped the power switch to on and……it was my former student back for coming of age day with her boyfriend and they were fucking terrified. She was almost in tears. She cut me or blocked me from FB just hours ago. I didn’t wanna fight and they just looked at my sign too long for my liking cuz she was showing her BF her former English school…he had yellow hair and looked like he was up to no good or scouting my bag….? I didn’t know? So I went to zap and scratch em’. I was scared the big 4 door was stuffed with dudes but I couldn’t stop myself from ….shit the gun has 325 discharges per so it coulda been a fucking train…I just guess i wanted to test it on folks heads? Anyway..I already know it can go through a big down Uniqlo jacket but that’s a crime I’ll tell we about when we get together to cause damage.
I’m gonna ignore Reem’ cuz flaming on the net makes me feel too fucking unfulfilled.
Lol, What a loser you are….from where did you come out? You haven’t a clue about how to argument, neither about to beat someone you faggot, gonna throw a rock on me? Wow!! You sound like a very little bad kid…Lol
If you are over age, damn…I’ have bad news…You r a sucker for real!! You wanna play so, let’ me have some fun with you one more time…HEHEHE
About my English…Well, the message is clear and simple but, considering your retarded IQ, I’ would not be surprise if you don’t understand anything at all.
And tks for your effort using google translator and trying to translate some your brain farts to Portuguese, sorry but, it sounds like an little 10 yrs old angry retard child, menacing to throw someone an stone…Well…thinking better, it’s sounds exact like someone with your brain age,…. Tsc,tsc, tsc.
You should learn a thing…
Everyone who practices seriously some martial arts knows that, suckers angry barkers like you, is always the first ones to run, or to be fucking knockout down in some real treat..You can learn it know or let someone serious like me to explain better on the streets someday…It’s up to you.
One thing I’ must admit, actually in my environment I’ don’t see often insects like you around, specially in Japan but, I’ used to smash little boneless fuckers like you wend some cross my way.
Fuck, I’ waste another couple minutes here again but, what else can I’ do?..It’s fucking fun!! Lol.
Foda-se verme insignificante fdp do karaio, tomar no cu’ poha!!
Now, go to google translate this, stupid looser. HEHEHE
Your first round of shinagawa penthouse posts were v. helpful when I went through the SPR process myself, thanks.
I agree with the importance of “grovelling”, though not sure I’d characterize it exactly that way. But whatever it is it goes a long way in Japan… just compare the treatment of Takufumi Horie to other similar fraud cases where perpetrators pleaded guilty and were let off with a slap on the wrist.
Groveling properly, and not being one of the stereotypes in the news is essential. Although Japan can be incredibly inflexible, on a person to person level, there is room to move.