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Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Come On And Touch Me, Babe

If there's one thing most foreigners (gaijin) experience early and often upon their arrival in Japan--and hate, usually--is the fact that the Japanese people (nihonjin) seem to lack personal space boundaries and don't think it rude to come up and touch you without asking your permission.

I'm not talking about a friendly hand on a shoulder, but rather a grab of the boobs or of the butt... or even something else!

Perhaps it's because you have blonde hair - a non-existent genome in Japanese people.

Or perhaps it's because you have red-hair - another thing that doesn't exist in the non-bad girl Japanese.

Or maybe you have lots of arm hair: fuwa-fuwa ('fluffy', said in a young kid's manner), which was so in my case.

Or maybe you have blue or green eyes - also not available without colored contact lenses in Japan.

Or maybe you have big boobs or a big, mean-old onion butt - unfortunately not the de rigueur amongst Japanese women.

It's true.

Gasoline... what the Japanese say when butchering their attempts to say the name Catherine... once told me how she was a constant target for Japanese men (and this gaijin) - drunk or otherwise. I never actually grabbed her boobs, but boy did I want to. But I know about personal space, so I didn't. I'm just saying that this Maserati needed a full tank of Gasoline.

Anyhow, she never mentioned why she was a constant target, but I always assumed it was because of her big, bouncy blue eyes and twinkling tits.

Hmmm... reverse that description.

And then there was Archery... what the Japanese say when butchering their attempts to say my former girlfriend's name Ashley. She told me she always had Japanese guys trying to pinch her nice plump behind.

And me? I would have female junior high school students (yes... jail-bait) grab my arm and pet my arm hair courtesy of a rolled up sleeve or Spring fashion short-sleeved dress shirt. It pissed me off. And after five or 10 minutes, I would tell them so. Kidding. I was pretty quick with my admonishment.

I could never completely understand why the Japanese acted with undoctored glee at not having personal borders. (Man that was a long way to go for a poor word-play joke!)

... Okay... I did 'get' the arm hair thing to a certain degree.. but I saw plenty of Japanese men with hairier arms than myself. Ugh... that was horrible.

And the boob-grabbing or butt-pinching... I saw plenty of Japanese women men with bigger boobs and ass than Gasoline or Archery... and maybe one or two women built like that... so what was the real excuse?

Perhaps there was some traumatic event in Japan's past that led to this unfortunate abuse of gaijin skin?

But, I was never able to determine what that event could have been... until now.

Thanks to Vince - my good buddy - who sent me a truckload of books via snail mail (my wife says "thanks" for allowing her to pay the duty on them), I discovered an image... the image above, in fact, that is a drawing of a real-life event from Japanese history circa March 24, 1854.

It shows a group of gaijin American sailors under the command of Commodore Perry during his first visit to Japan in the attempt of the United States to convince Japan to open up its borders to foreign trade.

The drawing shows a poor Japanese sumo wrestler being felt up by gaijin.

I assumed that the gaijin were curious about what sort of fat or muscle the wrestler had... but I also realized that from then on, every time a gaijin male arrived in Japan, he would attempt to get himself a Japanese woman... which probably involved some sort of feeling up... and the Japanese men would be envious of the gaijin men's pursuits and seek revenge by grabbing foreigner boob or booty.

And so... basically... because revenge is a dish best served cold... that is why the Japanese currently enjoy feeling up foreigners. Blame U.S. Commodore Perry.

Of course... I did my fair share of feeling up, too... the women... though I didn't care much if they were gaijin or nihonjin. I had no discriminating tastes.

There was that time I dated a Japanese woman for the evening who worked as a police officer. I did more than cop a feel. I'm pretty sure I got to feel a cop.

Cheers,
Andrew Joseph
PS: Today's tongue-in-cheek blog entry has a strange title... but it is, of course, a line from The Doors' song Touch Me. I had thought about using the song "Oh, What A Feeling (What A Rush) by Crowbar, or anything from Mot The Hoople, but only because I dig the group's far-out name and the David Bowie-written song "All The Young Dudes." 

     
    

 

       

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