Manga Review: Saint Young Men (aka Jesus is a weeaboo)

...or, what if God (and Buddha) was one of us.

If you're still familiar with one-hit wonder Joan Osbourne's If God Was One of Us, then you may have played around with that thought. Did you imagine the earthbound Jesus as the  holier version of King Midas, who turned everything he touched into gold? Did His footsteps turn the hot asphalt He walked on into holy ground? Was He even remotely human, in every sense of the word?

What if He was just chillin' in a rented studio apartment, with Buddha as his roomie?

In Nakamura Hikaru's Saint Young Men, two of the poster men of religion, Jesus Christ and Buddha, decide to take a break from their work and descend into Japan (surprise, surprise) for good old R&R. They rent an apartment, and judging by Buddha's stricken reaction at Jesus' exorbitant purchases, they're also restricted to a certain budget. Will they enjoy their vacation? Maybe, if only their divinity wasn't in the way.

Contrary to the Jesus Christ in every Christian's minds, Nakamura's rendition of the Son of God is incredibly human and a tad carefree, to the point of being a bit out-of-character at first glance. To Japanese highschool girls who catch glimpse of Him buying food in the nearest kombini, He is that Johnny Depp-lookalike who has a penchant for the Shinsen-gumi. He owns a Vaio, and is a J-dorama blogger who makes sure His reviews come out the same day that the episodes get aired - and His blog gets thousands of hits per day.

Tl;dr, Jesus is a weeaboo, just like us.

On the other hand, Buddha of Saint Young Men is truer to the Buddhist doctrine as the man who has discovered the Middle Way (the path between the two extremes of hedonism and self-mortification): he is temperate, scolds Jesus for squandering their limited vacation allowance on needless luxuries like a beginner's clay modeling kit, and a full set of Shinsen-gumi cosplay, and absolutely loathes the extreme sensation of riding the rollercoaster. But he finds it in himself to become a Leah Dizon fan.

As expected of a manga of this genre, Saint Young Men pokes a small jab at its protagonists, putting Christianity and Buddhism in a humorous light. The manga even goes so far as to "reveal" that the fabled Baptism in the Jordan River was not a proof of Jesus' divinity more than a show of John the Baptist's great compassion, and that the white dove that descended from the heavens was the Father Himself, inquiring about the welfare of His slightly aquaphobic Son.

Jesus' addiction to blogging was also explained as a manifestation of his desire for an audience; whether or not this translates to craving attention depends on the readers. I myself know that this isn't always the case.

One of the bigger questions about this manga is whether or not Nakamura's Jesus was too out of character. Is He, really? Jesus of the Bible was capable of playing truant as a kid to show His wits (or youthful presumptuousness?) off to them pesky old men; He certainly was cheeky enough to make His unbelieving disciple to touch his wounds just to show that he was that same person who died on the cross. 

He was also human enough to wreak havoc on the merchants in His Father's temple - but this manga series does not emphasize His righteous anger (an error which will be righted in this particular sidestory).

One of the more obvious reasons why this obscure title shines is its irreverent handling of subject matter, yet never straying far from what could be the entire point of this manga series: Jesus (and Buddha, depending on your beliefs) was once human, just like us. Does it follow, then, that mere humans can transcend humanity and become divine?

Another point being, of course, that people of varying beliefs can hang out with each other and become roomies. It'll be wonderful if that other religious figure (hint: turbans) made an appearance, but we all know what would probably ensue. Denmark knows .

Of course, this seems to be lost in the more orthodox lot of believers and those too narrow-minded to appreciate the message behind the satirical comedy that is practically on the same level as Cromartie High and Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei (thanks to its tasteful placement of cameos like that one God of the New World).

While the manga has reportedly been received warmly by the Christian and Catholic populations in Japan, the manga a good ice breaker between people of Christianity and Buddhism - and by extension, Shintoism - it's obvious how people from the more fundamental Christian countries will take this gem: all fire and brimstone. And it's sad, really.

For those who missed the scanlation link: Saint Young Men

I ♥ Japan.

I knew that Japan wouldn't fail me. They do have Happy Turdlets.

Me: I wonder what the creator's explanation about the Happy Turdlets getting flushed? I mean, they look like they're recurring characters.
Me: after getting flushed in one of the 4komas, do they just get fished out of the septic tank to make another appearance?
Me: or do they get reincarnated by getting pooped into life again?
Me: is flushing tantamount to death?
Ryan: I...don't know @__@
Ryan: So many questions @__@
Me: but the answers are so few D:

Pun-Colle: Sex and Violence (The Exploited cover)

Hardcore punks, this is my 4/01 tribute to you.

Fly high, Gamera.

...and let's spew out turtly fireballs in the sky.

(thanks to Nyan for drawing this awesome Gamera and Mai doodle. X3)

Christmas '09 Wish List ♥

Managed to read my former officemate's Christmas wishlist on his Multiply page, which reminded me that I haven't come up with my own because I was busy having Christmas...well, on Christmas day. I wouldn't get into the "spirit" or "real meaning" of the holiday, because I wouldn't want to go all Ayn Rand and debate the fact that Christmas was, in fact, a pagan holiday stolen from the Romans. And I really hate Ayn Rand, but don't force me.

Now, let's get into the real meat of the holidays: capitalism and commercialism!

Anyway Santie, the stash I got from you is already awesome, but I think you could do better. A LOT better. So let me give you a jumpstart towards the right direction for next year's Christmas. ♥

1. Galapagos Tortoise

Taken from Wikipedia:

The Galápagos tortoise (or Galápagos giant tortoise), is the largest living tortoise, native to seven islands of the Galápagos archipelago. Fully grown adults can weigh over 300 kilograms (661 lb) and measure 1.2 meters (4 ft) long. They are very long-lived with a life expectancy in the wild ?estimated to be over 150 years.

Why do I want a giant tortoise, especially when I'm already steeped in acrid envy at its immunity from rent prices? Why do I want something that would most probably consume my year's supply of apples in a matter of days?

Because with a little ingenuity and a dash of know-how, I can turn this:

into this:

Who needs rabid pitbulls if you've got cannon-toting murder turtles? Sure, they're slow movers - but with their patience and the fact that can make the earth grovel under their feet with each step, robbers will know that no matter how far they get away, murder turtles (okay, tortoises) WILL catch up with them and WILL eventually fire one of their huge-ass cannons point-blank, no matter how many years that one task may take.

Scrap big dogs if you need one for home security. No one will ever dare breach your home if doing so will mean having to stay awake each and every night for the rest of their lives, feeling for any telltale tremors or listening for any heart-gripping growling that may signal the coming of the fearsome murder turtle, which is taking revenge for the lightbulb that was stolen from your garage ten years ago.

2. F-22 Raptor

I've already grown tired of singing Queen's One Vision in karaoke bars. Singing that hotblooded anthem while zipping through the skies in one of these babies, however, is the right way to do it. Yes, it's the wrong aircraft, but who cares? The F-16 is so '70s.

3. The Lancer (Gears of War series)

Santie, red looks really good on you. Check this video to see how good:

Just kidding. You can get me the gore-less Lancer here. ♥


Much love,

XOXO

PS: I'm so sick and tired of getting coal every year. Please. It's not helping your reputation as a jolly, fat bastardenefactor. Plus, you need to work on your laugh a bit. It scares my dog.

Battle of the saddest: Japan versus US, FIGHT-O!

Japan:

America:

Words are not needed.

Status messages.

His YM stat message while at work:

Running on nothing but guts and fumes.

Me: I hate to say it, but
Me: your stat message sounded cool, until I read it the second time. Then it made more sense.
Him: What does it mean to you nao? XD
Me: that digested innards and fart serves as your fuel?
Him: Er...You were thinking too much into it.
Me: I'm sorry D: but you get gas so easily, so...
Him: It originally means something like a car running on an empty gas tank
Him:  i.e. fumes of the gasoline that's left in the car, guts is just sheer stupid bravado
Me: thanks for giving me the correct image, but it's too late.
Me:  I was thinking of the more visceral stuff: guts = innards, fumes = gas
Him: Well Mai-Mai you just ruined that status message
Me: I'm sorry. Is the fact that I'm laughing right now making be look bad? D:
Him: BLAST OFF *farts out an EXPLOSION*
Him: MY ASS IS MY RAGE POWERED JETPACK

Simple joys.

Simple joys can be found anywhere if you look hard enough. Even your car's tires may hold a nice surprise for you, despite the fact that it ran over a dog yesterday.

Something to chew on before I go to sleep.

They BELIEVE in themselves because they can DO things THEMSELVES. It is difficult to look at yourself and say you don't exist.

- Anonymous

Being able to do so anyway is a great feat in itself.

You know its a bad day when...

You walk out of your office, weary and tired after a day of utter boredom, to find that your building's lobby is fully decked out in holiday regalia and your friendly security guard is smiling and greeting you a good evening; the night outside bearing the promise of another wonderful Christmas season, heralded by the speakers blaring out little Michael's rendition of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"... and all you could think of is

"Damn, no wonder the Jackson family was dysfunctional."

An idle thought

When I finally get my kids (please, two girls, hopefully twins), I'll consider it a grave crime to deprive them of the joy of playing in this sandbox. THIS turtle sandbox. If only we had a legal system as crazy as the US I would have sued my parents for not letting me exercise the right to play in this little patch of turtle happy.

(But they did dump a small hill of dirt into our backyard when I was a kid, just so I can make my sandcastles with the worms. Thanks, Dad.)

Sometimes: The Zombie Apocalypse Edition

Needlessly stupid, inane, idiotic and other permutations of those words.

But that pretty much sums up most instances of romantic love.

Twilight ravishings and midnight mishaps.

1. It's been a while since I last used that post title. It's too bad that the original post I used it on already went into Information Highway limbo when my first blog, an early adopter account on Free Open Diary, was deleted due to my failure to log in for several months in a row.

I would love to indulge myself in another bout of nostalgia - feh, I feel so old already - but I can't right now. I couldn't. I'm now reverting to my old habit of staying up late until the sun's rays break out of the dark sky, writing furiously until I feel too light-headed. Or cramming, as most other people would say.

It's hard for me to write, really. The few people who know of my writing habits may have noticed that I don't churn out prose as readily as most other people who indulge in writing as a hobby, or as a cathartic outlet (I would have shortened that last phrase by using the word "writers", but I refuse to use that title lightly - I couldn't even consider myself worthy of being called a writer, yet. Journalist, yes; writer, no).

I write when an idea falls on my lap, an idea that I find fascinating enough to explore and even play with. My muse, if even have one, wouldn't settle for anything that is not unusual. If he were a living, breathing person, my muse would be often found in ukay-ukay stalls or in the middle of the Divisoria jungles in pursuit of that one. Idea.

Or just about anything that catches his whim.

The one I'm writing about right now isn't as strange or less commonplace, however.

His dream was simple. His dream was to fuck as many women as he wanted before his penis falls off, and he also wanted to drink booze enough to poison two people, before his liver shrivels up and goes to hell ahead the rest of his body.

After much thought and careful planning, the man known as Mr. Mascot decided that [REDACTED], the leader of the local polygamist sect well known for its 1:100 ratio of men to women and its infamous rapid consumption of alcohol, was the key to make his dream a reality.

Disclaimer: Names currently used are placeholders. I'm not going to even explain the premise of my story - just that I'm not one to write tales that are fabricated purely to deliver a saccharine-sweet ending, or give readers (if my prose even gets read) stories that spew out happy, warm feelings of fullness that tickle their insides and make them full of hope towards humanity and the future.

In other words, I fucking hate Hallmark and Chicken Soup for the Soul-type of anecdotes, as well as the drivel that gets forwarded into office email accounts every day. How trite can you actually go?

That is not to say that I prefer writing cut cut stab stab stories (sing along with me now: WHEN I WAS), death and bleeding hearts and RRRRAAAAAAGE, or about characters who have the penchant of wearing black cowls tattered on the edges...no, not really.

I just want to play out what-if scenarios in my head, and some of them enchant me enough to spend hours after midnight to write, write and write at the cost of missing out on daytime fun because of my noctural writing habits.

...and I forget the point of this particular post. All I wanted to say is that I'm currently cramming several midnights in a row writing this idea in my head. Crap, I got distracted again.

(I can write several pages, thousands or millions of white sheets of paper stacked way up high to the heavens, but I can never call myself a writer. I can enumerate several writers' names, one of them is yours, but none of those names is mine.)

2. Public establishments here in the province have started playing Christmas Jingles ever since September rolled in. It doesn't bother me, and strange as it may be, it never fails to put that familiar fluttery feeling inside me that filled me up every time I anticipated the holidays as a child.

Christmas may be besmirched with capitalism and shades of materialistic greed nowadays, but it will always be that magical time of the year for me. And when I have my own family, I will make sure that my kids will feel the same about the holidays.

Let's not get started about its forgotten religious significance, please.

Reading between the lines.

I'm good at discerning hidden, or subtly hinted, messages. Well, at least in text. Though I'm cursing that particular skill after seeing this image:

Do not want.

When life gives you lemons...

...you make onion rings and udon, of course.

In my case, I decided to make delicious onion rings and udon when I got a stress-inducing lemon. While it's not yet scientifically determined how a tangy, sour, acidic lemon can produce yummy fish and shrimp broth, anyone can do it anyway out of sheer will.

Here's how I did it, with Ryan's help:

First off we made onion rings. We got a single mutant white onion, enough to yield a plateful of onion-y goodness enough for three people, and Ryan sliced it to several pungent rings. I couldn't touch raw onions, because for some reason I have a certain...reaction to them, as long as they're fresh.

The casualty: Ryan's finger

In the meantime I set all the other ingredients - egg, flour, and bread crumbs - into separate bowls. Here's how he did it, according to what Cooking Mama taught him: dip the onion in flour, then egg, and finally coat them with the Japanese bread crumbs. I noticed that the coating stripped off easily, so Ryan tried another tack: dip in egg, then flour, then the crumbs (it made more sense that way). The onion rings then had better coating.

They're actually pretty good.

Next, we made udon. Or we cooked instant udon, to be more precise. There's a nice Japanese grocery near my place, Shinanoya, and needless to say all the stocked items in that grocery will make any weeaboo feel at home. Hey, Calorie Mate. Wasabi nuts. Natto. Nat-chan. Calpis.

We got ourselves a double pack of wet udon noodles, and just dumped it into a pot of boiling water along with the seasoning that came with it. Then we put in a fish broth cube, sliced cabbages and carrots, and shelled shrimps (Ryan morbidly calls them flayed shrimps). We topped it all off with a (half-assedly) poached egg, and the confetti-like Noritama toppings. Profit.

(L-R) The carrots, shoddily-chopped cabbages, the 'flayed' shrimp

(L-R) Ryan dumping the cabbages into the pot, the finished product

What's the lemon? There's something happening in the office right now and yes, it's quite an annoyance. It's more of an annoyance than an all out "oh, woe is me" affair, but let's not delve on that right now. Indulging in too much anger or turning emo won't help me (or anyone) and doesn't look good either.

You do things in style, instead of being immature, whining, and insecure. You do the right things. You do not complain and actually do nothing about the matter at hand (no, picketing isn't tantamount to doing something). You do GAR things, not whimper like a puppy. Nevermind the fact that some puppies whine and mewl just to look cute to their respective owners.

*kick*

Whineyipwhinewhineyip.


A postscript: If I need to get crabsticks, I'll certainly go for this brand:

Robo-crab.

Saw this sign posted by the firearms depository in a military bank. I smell a Darwin award, somewhere.

Happy Birthday.

Whether or not this anecdote really happened during the Sichuan tragedy, I BAWWWWED.

;-;

More strips can be found here: China 5.12 Earthquake Strips

Go go go go.

1. Yes, the storm is definitely my friend. It's been known to give me some needed days off from during my less-than-favorable work stints in the past, and last night it temporarily yielded for the fireworks display.

The storm also caused him to stay over for the meantime, which led to him downloading Space Invaders Extreme, a game that could become another rare mainstay in my DS/PSP gaming roster. Gaaah. Can't get enough of the pew-pew-pew action. I'm loving Space Invaders so much right now, I immediately pre-ordered a Space Invaders shirt and headset from Play-Asia.

Pew-pew-pew-pew. My Space Invaders Extreme Friend Code: 004441-860116 (without dashes)

2. I just recently found out about what really happened with the "Help Needed" episode this blog experienced not too long ago (refer to the cbox). Since the whole shebang has already ended with me not knowing what it was all about until now, I'm going to refrain from saying anything - not too much, at least - concerning the incident.

I'm just a bit appalled that some people live to make other people's lives a living hell just to feel alive. Sure, I'm not a saint myself, but I'm not making a career out of it. Some people apparently do, however. For shame, girl. For sweet fucking shame.

3. Currently downloading Hakaba Kitaro, the latest anime based on the Ge Ge Ge Kitaro classic Japanese anime series. It shares the same visual style as Mononoke, and I might as well check it out and see if it's going to give me the same level of satisfaction as Kusuriuri-san's exploits. I tried picking up the second season of xxxHolic, only to be terribly disappointed. Maybe it was because I already own ten volumes of the manga, but I doubt it. I think I got fed up with Watanuki's tendency to be a whining idiot in the anime.

1. I'm not sure if there's going to be a storm today in Manila, but I heard from my parents that there was a big one that hit Leyte yesterday. My father said that it will eventually pass my area, but eh, I hope it doesn't. Here's to hoping that the storm misses its flight.

I usually don't mind anyway - I consider the rain as my element - but we're supposed to go fireworks watching tomorrow, if they're still holding the weekly fireworks display. Still, when did they ever let storms go in the way of fireworks? I remember the first Pyro Olympics held in the country. Was it three years ago, when we all got drenched in the rain while waiting for a fireworks routine to start? I vaguely remember a Pepsi-branded tent scuttling across the grounds in the midst of the torrential rain.

The fireworks were still able to fly that night.

In any case, a storm or two is good to share with someone else.

2. I'm sorry for sleeping on you again last night. You do know how much of a sleepyhead I am, so. .__. But still, will you hold me again, as I get drowned in dreams?

3. I've been looping a certain video at work. This one's a sort-of guilty pleasure of mine, and I think I'm beginning to hate Taiko no Tatsujin for making me hooked to tunes of franchises I usually wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. But still, am happy, since it's not all the time that I find music that I somehow find...palatable.

The song in the video below, Agent Yoru wo Iku, is taken from the IDOLM@STER franchise. Yes, the very same IDOLM@STER that caters to rabid male otaku who probably rub themselves against love pillows of their favorite female anime characters at night. I think I'm hating myself right now, but I can't help but love the tune.

This video below is my favorite version so far, with the angelic Azusa Miura (the one with the long hair). Did I say that I like Azusa? I haven't yet? Well there, I like Azusa. Makoto's deep vocals serves as the perfect foil to her sweet voice, so...yeah. Just watch the video before I ramble on.

Update before I go out.

As you can I see I managed to pour buckets of virtual pink paint on my blog. I wanted a change, but I'm still partial to this layout so this is all I can do - until he manages to draw me a new banner, that is.

I also got rid of the auto-playing music thing and swapped it with a "Song of the Day/Week/Whatever" section that I added in the sidebar. It's better, I think, and I'll spare you guys from the pain of getting some weird music blaring through your speakers, thus earning you some odd stares from your family, co-workers, or whoever ("What the hell is that shit?").

The first Song of the Moment is something that I encountered in *drumroll* Taiko no Tatsujin DS 2, Sousei no Aquarion. I haven't watched the anime yet, and I don't think I'll ever will after I read bits and pieces about it. I read that it's a good show, but its premise just isn't my thing.

I'ma take another shower and go out now, bills bills bills to pay and other household stuff. Being the lady of the house sure does have its own non-perks.

:<