Life Offline Sucks. Totally.

Hope everyone's in the mood for a pity party, cause you've unwittingly stumbled into one.

(haHA! My readers are suckers! All six of them!)

(actually, after the above parenthetical outburst, new figures estimate overall readership has dropped by about two people ... Hey, I'm sorry! Please, you're not a sucker! Please, come back! Please?)

As you know--or perhaps don't know; I don't know who knows what anymore since I no longer have internet access at home--I no longer have internet access at home. My computer is fried--either its motherboard or graphics card. I'm hoping it's the card (which is easily fixable), but it'll cost me about $100-200 to find out. What all this means is that, when I'm at home, no music, no American TV, no e-mail, no blog, and no surfing. Instead, I have to do all that--except the TV and music--at work. AT WORK! And some would claim Japan is a first-world country.

So my homelife can now be characterized by long peroiods of eery yet mostly silent page-flipping punctuated by occasional outbursts of obnoxious Japanese television. I rarely work more than 30 hours a week but leftover narcolepsy which came courtesy of the sickness I contracted in Bali still regularly leaves me passed out on the couch in front of the TV or in bed with a reading book tented over my drool-slickened face. (This newfound compulsion to snooze is so intense, that I've fallen asleep approximately 12 times while composing this post, and I'm at the office. Seriously, I can't ... stay ... awakets draghdd fhhkn)

What I really can't get over is the way it seems that, without internet, I'm even more disconnected from everything and everyone. It's really kind of disorienting--as if being a reclusive loner on the other side of the world weren't enough. Sometimes I'll make a phone call to a friend to break the monotony, and they call me on occasion too, but other than that ... it's just me out here. The Japanese have national psychological pandemic called hikikomori which features young Japanese people, mostly men, who completely withdraw from friendships and family to live exclusively in their bedrooms and listen to Radiohead all night long. Just themselves and no conversation with anyone. It's kind of like my life, only I can't play any Radiohead because my motherfucking computer won't fucking start the fuck up like it's fucking supposed to.

But at least I'm not a member of the Arizona Cardinals franchise. Their recent game, as well as the Bronco-Raider game as fortune would have it, was rebroadcast hours later on Japanese television. The Cardinals thoroughly dominated the best team in the league, only to have the Bears preternaturally storm back with mere minutes left, only to watch their own star rookie, Leinart, calmly lead their offense down the field back to a to field goal position, only to have their kicker miss the game winning field goal. The Bears somehow won, in spite of their quarterback who threw four interceptions and fumbled twice.

This has to be the biggest choke I've ever seen: the mighty Chicago Bears, tied spreadeagle to a massive stone altar, with a ceremonial dagger hovering point-down inches above their chest, ready to plunge forward at any moment. Only it doesn't happen because the dagger, acting on accord of some mystical power, reverses course and instead plunges backward into the abdomen of the stunned priest. Clearly the Arizona Cardinals have done something grievously offensive to the football gods. My only recommendation is for the entire team--from the Owner to the General Manager, the Coaching Staff and all players at all depths, the water boys, cheerleaders, and even the little kid who runs out to grab the tee after kickoffs--they all have to commit suicide. It doesn't matter how it's done--self-disembowelment or Jonestown-flavored Kool-Aid--but every last person on the Cardinal payroll must do so in order to remove this taint.

Sad but true. As is my paltry 8-5 prognostication record from last week (which brings me to 58-29 on the year). In my defense, I am without easy internet research access thereby handicapping my NFL 2006 knowledge. But I still pick, friends. I still go on. Here you go, for the sake of your weekly Crepuscular Ray inspiration:

• Cardinals over Raiders -- if mass suicide won't turn this team's fortunes around, take heart: the Oakland Raiders always lend opposing teams a helping hand.
• Chargers over Chiefs
• Jags over Texans
• Steelers over Falcons
• Seahawks over Vikings
• Eagles over Bucs
• Jets over Lions
• Patriots over Bills
• Colts over Skins
• Cowboys over Giants
• Panthers over Bengals (I'd take Panthro over any of the other Thundercats)
• Packers over Dolphins
• Broncos over Browns -- you want my theory on Shanahan's offense? Why expose its intricate beauty for league-wide scrutiny until the need truly arises? Just wait, friends. This butterfly emerges from its coccoon in January.

Wow... that last little "wise" analogy sounded a tad ... unmanly. Forgive me. Who knows what lengths I am being driven to in the name of maddening isolation? A little appreciation of purdy butterflies might be the least of our problems.

Here, enjoy this picture of a man-eating seahorse:

The end of the world as I know it.

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you all of the probable demise of my home computer, which stopped effectively powering on last Monday. Although the fans whir, the motherboard no longer works, as evidenced by (I think) the lack of BIOS information ordinarily displayed during the startup screen. Why it no longer works is a mystery beyond my ability to comprehend, let alone remedy, so, barring a miracle or visit from a miracle-worker, I think it's safe to assume my life is entering a sustained period which will be characterized by a lack of joy and meaning.

I now have to do my internet surfing from the office computer, with its glacial internet speeds and irritating Japanese keyboard (apostophe is shift-7, annoyingly enough). What can this possibly mean for the future of my e-mailing and blogging activities? Nothing positive, I'm afraid. Expect delays. Expect silence. And when you do hear from me, expect lamentations.

My life is already changing in unimaginable and horrific ways. For instance, I now:

• read off thin pieces of paper only, as opposed to an elegant and huge screen.
• get most my news from CNN-J, which means I have to tolerate Lou Dobbs, Anderson Cooper, and Wolf Blitzer, the last of whom reports from a location called "The Situation Room", but is really just another generic cable news studio.
• communicate with friends only in my dreams, which have been disturbing and tragic since the apparant collapse of my computer.
• question the existence of God.
• talk to myself even more. The two of us haven't been getting along very well, lately. I think all the time on our hands and pressure to be "buddy-buddy" is tearing us apart.
• can't watch any live, televised football. Why not just have me shot? Or castrated?
• live in a silent world utterly devoid of music, a world in which the only sounds are the ticking of clocks and the occasional powering on fridge and AC Unit, electric devices which presumably function solely to taunt me that they at least are capable of doing so.

So, things may be bleak for a while until I get this straightened out. In all the chaos, I haven't even had time to compute my last week's pick efforts, or think aobut week 6.

Of course, you know I'm lying about that. Last week's effort led to a highly respectable 13-3, in which I missed only the Rams, the Jags, and the Eagles. That brings me to a lofty season record of 50-24. I deserve my own TV sports program or newspaper column.

Running outta time, so here we are:

• Seattle over STL ('Hawks coming offa bye AND Rams = pretenders, albeit decent pretenders.)
• Philly over NO
• Cincy over TB
• Washington over Tenn
• Balt over Carolina
• Atl over NYG
• Dal over Hou
• Det over Buf
• Huard over Big Ben ... no wait. Reverse that. Yeah. Pit over KC
• SD over SF
• NYJ over MIA
• Chi over Ari
• DEN over OAK -- if we can stomp a little midget like we're supposed to, it'll really solidify in my mind the greatness of this Broncos team. If we let them stick around or even worse, then I'll hold off on Super Bowl reservations.

Thank you all and God Bless.

Clap-happy Japanese applaud even the moon!

Ah! I'm back at work and life is good again! Hoo-ray! (I'm being serious). School started up and, strange as it may sound, my life at work is better than my life without work. I really have a good job.

In other news, last night I went to a temple complex in Kyoto for an "otsuki-mi", or moon-viewing festival. Basically, the last full moon before the vernal equinox is a big deal here, and moon-viewings are rather culturally significant. So I figured I'd show up and see what's what. To make a long story short, Kyoto's a goodly distance away from Kobe, Buddhist temple complexes are particularly spooky at night, and Japanese people enjoy clapping. I've noticed the clapping preference before (like five years ago when I was announced to be a summer van-driver for Japanese exchange students in Colorado), but it still often takes me by surprise and makes me chortle. So when the full moon ascended above the cloud line for the first time last evening and was welcomed by a smattering of "oohs" and round applause, I decided I should mention it in my blog.

Upon first hearing the applause, my mental reaction was snotty. I wanted to shout in Japanese (which I still can't speak) that the moon cannot hear your applause, and, even if it could, your cheers are not what guide it along its eons-old celestial path. You're being silly! But then, after thinking about it, I decided that the Japanese people don't really applaud the moon, but rather themselves and the Shinto-vestiges of their profound culture which still, after millenia of modernization, marks annual milestones in nature with giddiness and excitement. I decided that was kind of cool, so a few seconds later, I joined in applauding the moon.

YAY MOON! WHOO! WAY TO RISE ABOVE THE CLOUDS AND SHINE AND STUFF AND MAKE US HAPPY!

* * *

Did I hear someone ask for my opinions on who will win and who will lose in week five of the NFL? Well, I'm glad you asked.

First, my standard boasting: after an average outing two weeks ago, I went conservative and wound up with a 9-5 record. I should've gone with my instincts on the Baltimore, Washington, and New England victories, however. (SERIOUSLY! I knew those three would win, I just wussed and and picked otherwise! I'M NOT LYING!) But 9-5 ain't too shabby, and it makes me 39-21 on the year, much better than any of CBS Sportsline's six "experts" and also better than NBC's five-man "expert" panel. As for ESPN's eight-man panel, I've tied with Ron Jaworski and am only one game behind Mark Schlereth, who's blue-and-orange history would qualify him as awesome even if he were an idiot--which he clearly isn't. I feel I'm just a couple weeks of strong-picking away from conquering ESPN's panel, but it's my nemeses at Yahoo!Sports who I really want to best--of their four-man panel, I'm better than only one, and still a whopping four games behind their Charles Robinson, who looks more like the driver of an ice-cream truck than a shrewd football mind:

I'll get you Robinson!

Here's Week 5's Picks:

• Colts over Titans (although I secretly want to pick the Titans simply because they're 20 point underdogs ... I'm going for them even though I pick against them.)
• Giants over Redskins
• Vikings over Lions
• Saints over Bucs
• Packers over Rams (an upset)
• Patriots over Dolphins
• the ravenous BEARS! (over the Bills, who have more heart than talent.)
• Panthers over Browns
• Jets over Jaguars (Marshall QBs face off--I'm thinking upset)
• Chiefs over Cards (recently-emptied bandwagons clash under the desert sun)
• 49ers over Raiders (Q: as a old Broncos fan, is it difficult to see the Oakland Raiders, once hated rivals, plummet to become the league's laughingstock? A: No. It's kind of fun to watch, actually.)
• Chargers over Steelers
  
• TO over McNabb (Is there an NFL fan alive who isn't at least somewhat intrigued with this matchup? I'm almost looking forward to this more than the Broncos.)
• Broncos over Ravens (But I hate the dirty, stinking birds! They seem to trip up Denver when we least expect it. However, this Baltimore team is overrated: great D, yes, but their offense will score more points for the Broncos than for the Ravens ... I'm predicting turnover upon turnover as ancient "Air" McNair takes on the league's most underrated defense.)

And that's about it. I'll close this post with a stylized and compelling portrait of Russian President Vladimir Putin, who (in all likelihood) recently offed one of his country's most prominent journalists and a major critic of his administration. And American leftists regularly claim--in complete safety and immunity and with the straightest of faces--that Bush is a tyrant. Sheesh.

The post in which I detail getting a haircut followed by predictions of football game outcomes.

So I got a haircut. Actually, and stop me if you've heard this one before, but I got many of them cut! Many of my hairs cut, you see. Get it? The word haircut, if each of its root words is given limited and literal interpretation, might suggest that only a single follicle was sheared. But in reality, many of my follicles were sheared. Therein, my friends, lies the humorous underpinning of this timeless grade school quip.

And that, you see, is why I maintain this site! To enlighten. To illuminate. To pierce through grey clouds of confusion--crepuscular ray-like--and help you, my readers, arrive at a point where you can consider yourselves to exist in a state of general understanding about some stuff.

Anyhoo, I went to the barbershop between the bakery and the post office on the way to the train station nearest my apartment. Inside, I was nervously greeted by a kindly old Japanese codger. He was much relieved when I presented him with the following note, explaining what I wanted my head to look like:

If possible, print out this picture and send it to me. That way I'll have the original instructions, the photographed instructions, AND a printout of the photographed instructions. I consider myself a collector and someday contributor to Ryan Bossow's oft-ballyhoed "JW Memorabilia Restaurant."

I'm not sure how good my instructions were, but the barber consulted the sheet numerous times while cutting my hair. 20 minutes and 3,000 yen later, here's the outcome:

This is me trying to smile. The facial muscles required to do so have atrophied in the past couple months, and as a result, when I'm happy I now look constipated. God, it's been a hell of a summer.

Anyway, I think it's a good hairscut.

Now, for the true reason why you were checking: NFL Week 4 Predictions. Of course the big story of week 3 around the league was how Crepuscular Ray managed a pedestrian 7-7 prognostication effort. The average showing was bolstered, to some extent, by my analysis of Plummer and prediction that he would have a solid game on the basis that no one was expecting it. Sure enough: 256 yards, no int's, two TDs. Not too shabby. Let's hope that, since the Broncos have a bye week, most of my prognostication juices are effectively spent on the other 31 teams.

Still, even after an average week, I'm 30-16 on the season, tying me with ESPN's Hoge and Schlereth (hey, I like Schlereth!). I'm still way better than anyone at CBS or NBC. The best group of experts seems to be those mostly no-namers at Yahoo!Sports. Of their four-piece panel, three have picking records slightly superior to mine: Cris Carter, Charles Robinson, and Jason Cole.

But I'm hoping to turn things around this week. Here we go:

• Colts over Jets
• Panthers over Saints (although I think the Saints would win each week if they kept U2 on as an opening good luck charm)
• Chargers over Ravens (this was a tough pick...)
• Dolphins over Texans (Texans will do for Culpepper this week what they did for Brunell last week--make him not look washed up for 3 hours)
• Falcons over Cardinals
• Vikings over Bills
• Suicidal Cowboys over Rookie Titans
• Chiefs over 49ers
• Rams over Lions
• Jags over Redskins
• Browns over Raiders
• Bengals over Patriots
• Bears over Seahawks (I'm still thinking the Bears have a long win-streak ahead)
• Eagles over Packers
  

As for Bronco-related babble during this bye week, did anyone else get deja vu watching a big #84 streak downfield and wrestle passes away for dramatic touchdowns? Or how about a speedy-yet-caucasian #87 make solid catches in heavy traffic? I suppose if the Broncos don't retire those numbers, the next best thing would be to have their current bearers bring them honor. I am pleased.

***

Racist Survivor Update!

Racist Survivor is no longer racist! In an infuriating move, producers have merged race-tribes! Now we'll never know who was the superior race! Next thing you know, they'll be allowin' black-on-white weddings and such! Clearly this tacit advertisement for a future of mud-colored children has been brought to you by the Zionist Occupation Government!

In all seriousness, I'm going to stop watching Survivor this season (the rest will be the same as it always is). Hopefully next season, they can find a way to exploit global religious strife or America's divided and incendiary political climate. Right now, though, in the wake of the race-merger, I'm feeling like I was teased and tempted into thinking there would be a mini-race war on reality TV, and now I'm feeling gyped. I guess the closest we'll ever come to that was the Jerry Springer "Christmas with the Klan" episode. Thanks for the big letdown, CBS!

Jerks.

Oh, speaking of being a jerk, here's another spooky picture for Zach to wet his bed with (assuming my haircut picture didn't do the trick):