Vending Machines in Japan

It's impossible to walk more than a block in Tokyo without finding a vending machine. Japanese vending machines serve both hot and cold products. The red buttons vend hot products such as tea or coffee. The blue buttons vend cold products. Iced coffee is a very popular product in Japan. My favorite products from the vending machine are C.C. Lemon and Royal Milk Tea.

Engrish in Tokyo

This picture was taken in the Tokyo Metro Station in Akasaka. Notice the Engrish.

Japan Eats

The pictures above were taken at a recent dinner while in Japan. The first dish is my favorite Japanese dish; karaage. Karaage is chicken that has been marinated in sake, garlic, soy, ginger, and other spices, then deep fried. mmmm Japanese fried chicken. The chicken retains much of it's seasoning while remaining crispy. I am from the South so fried food are one of our major food groups. This dish fits nicely into my Southern diet. Now if I could get a glass of sweet tea to go with this dish -Yum! The second dish is Hamachi Kama or grilled tuna collar. All foodies know that the collar of any fish is the best part due to the sweet, robust flavor. I don't know the name of the third dish, but it was some type of beef stew with potatoes, onion, and soy sauce. This is Japanese comfort food. I would be very happy with this over rice any day. The last dish is the most adventurous. It is an entire steamed octopus. Scissors are used to cut the octopus into bite-size and chopstick manageable pieces. The taste is what I imagine a bicycle inner tube would be like if it sat at the bottom of the ocean for a few years. More karaage please.

No, it doesn't taste like chicken

I am not as culinarily adventurous as Andrew Zimmern, but I don't shy away from exotic foods either. Above is my first taste of whale. Oh nooo....the poor whales. Pfft...I don't give a damn. I didn't kill the whale and the way I look at it the whale is already dead - might as well enjoy what's left of it. Surprisingly, whale similar to beef, but with a slightly fishy finish. Overall it isn't bad. Granted, it won't show up on U.S. seafood menu any time soon and will most likely be outlawed worldwide in the future. And for the record, I would try dog or cat. It's not like it was my dog or cat. I do have several things I do not eat: liver, genitals, or a primates. I don't eat liver because I think the texture is similar to what I imagine shit would taste like if eaten. I don't eat genitals because the thought of an animals junk in my mouth kinda makes me throw up a little. I believe in evolution so therefore I refuse to eat anything with an opposable thumb.

No, I think we can fit at least 50 more

This is why I avoid the trains and subways in Tokyo during rush hour. Insanity! The Oshiyas or pushers make sure they pack as many people onto the train during rush hour. The first time I came to Tokyo I decided to take the subway to work during rush hour. I saw the crowds, cursed aloud, walked right out of the station, and gladly paid $20 for a taxi. Having 80 Japanese meat sticks poke me in the back is not how I want to start my day.

Video courtesy of Sockies25.

If you don't like crowds....

..you should probably avoid most of Tokyo. This video was taken at Shibuya crossing in Tokyo.

Video courtesy of NYPTravel

Sumo 2.0

The Japanese have given us Sumo and well as great role-playing games (RPG) like Final Fantasy. If they could combine RPGs and Sumo, it would be awesome and look something like this:
Video Courtesy of checkit014

Tokyo Subway

The Tokyo Subway is one of the more complicated subway systems in the world. It is the most efficent and cost-effective way to get around Tokyo if you can figure out how to use it. Above is a map of the Tokyo Subway.

Now in Japan

I landed in Tokyo a few days ago. Coming back to Japan always feels like coming home. I am more at ease and comfortable in Tokyo than I am in New York City. While I only speak a few words of Japanese, I always find the citizens of Japan polite, accommodating, and helpful. No city I have ever been to is as safe and clean as Tokyo nor as technologically advanced.

More photos on ajc.com

Not once, but twix. This is the second time my photos have made the news. My photos from my trip to the Taj Mahal are are being featured on the Atlanta Journal-Constitution's website in the Weekend Away travel section.

The photos can be viewed here:
http://projects.ajc.com/gallery/view/travel/weekend-away/weekendaway051808/

Which cable is it?

This picture is symbolic of chaos I have experienced while in India. Notice the telco cabling over the road. This explains much of the network latency within the country.

Old Delhi

These pics were from the back of a moving bicycle rickshaw while in Old Delhi.

"You Happy, I'm happy." I'm not happy.

A co-worker and I decided to hire a driver to take us into Delhi to see some of the historic sites. The first site we went to was the Red Fort in Old Delhi. Our driver parked in a lot across the road from the fort. A couple of bicycle rickshaw drivers stopped and offered to take us to the fort. The driver negotiated a fixed price of 20 RS (about 50 cents) each for the service. We climbed in our respective rickshaws and commenced a living game of Frogger. As the rickshaw driver struggled to pull my ex-large western frame across the road, I held onto the poorly constructed rickshaw for dear life. This felt like an episode of Quantum Leap and I had just leapt into someone about to be struck by a car. "Oh Boy!" - Yeah, I just went old school and referenced Quantum Leap.

We managed to make it across the perilous street and were dropped off at the fort. We attempted to pay the drivers but they said to wait until we were finished at the fort; they waited. An hour or two passed before we exited the fort. The drivers had waited for us to return. We again attempted to pay them for their service. They said that they would show us around Old Delhi and we could pay then. My coworker pressed them for a fixed amount. "Oh don't worry, don't worry. Pay not much. You happy, I'm happy." He repeated this several times. My coworker kept pressing for a fixed amount. They dismissed his inquiry again and proceeded to peddle us through Old Delhi. The streets of Old Delhi were less than 8 feet wide in some parts. No one had imagined wheeled transportation when designing these streets. We frequently stopped to allow others to pass. The rickshaw driver, dripping with sweat, would point out landmarks along the way. "Look another piece of rundown shit." - Peddle, Peddle, Sweat, Sweat - "Something inconsequential happened here." - Peddle, Peddle, Sweat, Sweat - "This shop owner has only one testicle." - Peddle, Peddle, Sweat, Sweat - This poorly designed history lesson continued for another 45 minutes. Store owners pleaded with us to stop and buy their wares. We continued down the endless narrow alley way. The air was heavy with the smell of curry, oil, dust, and humanity. Indistinguishable vegetables soaked in spices, breads floated on boiling black oil, and flies feasted on cut fruit.

The drivers finally exited the narrow alleys of Old Delhi. The said they were taking us somewhere. I didn't really know what he said, but figured he wanted a break. We stopped at a shop. This was more of a show room than a shop. The lady in charged offered us drinks and began to show us saris, pashminas, silk paintings, and hand carved items. We informed her that we didn't want to buy anything, but she seemed proud of her goods and kept showing us items. I'll admit the quality seemed much higher than what I had seen in other markets. These goods were export quality, not the same cheap-ass crap I had shown by other vendors. I'm sure these drivers are most likely paid a kick-back by the shop owners to lure in unsuspecting westerners. The owner seemed disappointed that we didn't buy anything.

I told our rickshaw drivers we were done and ready to go back to the car. They drivers peddled back to the parking lot. We hopped off the rickshaws and asked them how much. "Very hard work, hard work. Fifty. Fifty U.S. Dollars - Each." WTF, $50 each? My co-worker handed them a hundred rupees or so. I chipped in another two hundred or so rupees for their hard work. The drivers then got angry. "No. This hard work. Fifty US!, Fifty!" My coworker throws their original offer back in their face. "You said I happy, you happy. I am happy with this amount." Take that. The drivers at this point are livid. "Go, just go." We waves us off. My co-worker and I again try to hand them the money, but they decline. We insist, but they want us to leave. We decide it's time to get the hell out of there. We had better get back to the car and fast. The scenario I see is the drivers telling the cops that the rich westerner has robbed a poor working class Indian or being chased down and lynched by every rickshaw driver in Old Delhi. I am pretty sure I could take at least eight of these bastards, but they probably kick like a freaking ostrich and well I would rather avoid a melee.

As we speed walk to the car I contact our driver via my cell and tell him we are ready to leave. We get within about 25 feet of the car when someone is yelling at us. We reluctantly stop. One of the drivers has decided he would rather take something than nothing. My co-worker informs him that he doesn't like the way we were treated so he offers him less. This guy's got Moxie! The driver takes the money and sulks away.

We get into the car and lock the doors. We begin to exit the parking lot when the other rickshaw driver stops our car. He yells heatedly at our driver in Hindi. This guy really want his $50. Our driver says something to him and opens the door. No, don't fucking open the door. What the hell are you doing? You never open the door. Oh shit. Our driver and the rickshaw operator continue arguing. We tell our driver of the scam and that we tried to pay them a fair amount. The two men continue arguing. I don't understand what they are saying, but the rickshaw drivers seems to blame our driver for the rich westerners stiffing them out of $100. The two men are inches apart and arguing. Our driver shoves the rickshaw driver and gets back into the car and drives off. I laugh nervously and don't look back. Yeah Bitch! Take that - our driver is a chauffeur and a bodyguard. Boo yah! Try catching us on your stupid little bike. Oh shit, don't stop - run the red light.

It's amazing how brave you become in the safety of a locked and moving vehicle. The moral of the story: always negotiate a price first.

Qutub Minar

The Qutab Minar is located in South Delhi and is the largest minaret in the world. "The Qutub Minar is 72 meters high (237.8 ft) with 399 steps leading to the top. The tower is now unfortunately once again closed to visitors. This is because in 1980s 25 children were crushed inside the tower when an electrical failure inside the tower caused a stampede." Nothing closes a tourist site faster than some dead children.

All of the pics above were taken at the Qutab Minar site.

Red Fort

The above pics were taken inside the Red Fort in Delhi. The fort was under the control of the Indian Army until 2003, when the Army handed over control to the Indian tourist authorities. The fort is now a popular tourist spot in Old Delhi.

Indian Palm Squirrel

This Indian Palm Squirrel was cooling himself down by flattening his body against the cool, shade-covered stones. The same thing didn't work for me. All I managed to do was dirty my clothes.

See my photos on ajc.com

My photos from my weekend in Munich are being featured on the Atlanta Journal-Constitution's website in the Weekend Away travel section.

The photos can be viewed here:
http://projects.ajc.com/gallery/view/travel/weekend-away/weekendaway051108/7.html

The Taj

The Taj Mahal was built under the Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan in memory and out of love to his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. The construction of The Taj took 22 years, 20 thousand workers, and 1,000 elephants to construct. That truly is a labor of love. The most I have ever done for a woman I cared about was to give her a pearl necklace.

The pictures above are: The Taj Mahal, Taj Mahal Mosque, and the Gateway to the Taj Mahal.

Taj Mahal

The driver stopped all of the sudden in Agra and a man got into the car. My first reaction was "Whoa. Get the hell out. This ain't no taxi." The man let me know he would be my tour guide. It had been pre-arranged by my driver. I was sure this was going to cost me. It's probably some well choreographed scam.

The tour guide instructed the driver where to go and commenced to dispensing his scripted history lesson of Agra and the Taj Mahal. The driver stopped at the main entrance we exited the vehicle. Then my guide started his Jesse Owens sprint to the main entrance. I am doing my best to keep up without jogging and while fending off an assault of souvenir merchants. "You like. Remember me later. My name Johnny. You come back later and buy okay? Okay? Okay? Okay? I Johnny." First of all don't say okay. This just implies some form of verbal agreement to buy their crap. And secondly, Johnny? There is no way your name is Johnny. Shoo!

We get to the entrance and the guide pushes me to the front of the line. Wow..we just blatantly cut in line in front of about 350 locals. I didn't look back to see who was pissed. As he bought tickets and water I tried to catch my breath and noticed the price for domestics is about 1/10 the price for foreigners. I am about to pass out at this point. It's 110 degrees and we just sprinted 1/2 a mile from the main entrance.

Once tickets are in hand we queue up in another security line. We are crammed into the security line like cattle. Not Indian cattle because that analogy would mean we would just wander in where and whenever we wanted. We were packed into the line like American cattle. The tour guide reminds me to be careful of my wallet and camera due to thieves. Less than a minute of saying this, I feel a tug at my front left pocket. This 6 year old in line behind me is trying to put his hand into my wallet pocket. I slap his hand away and sternly say NO. He backs away cowering and his dad moves in between us. Look here ya little bastard, I don't give a damn that you are 6 and I don't care what country I am in. Try to steal my wallet again and I will punch you in the throat. Want a piece of me dad? Bring it! Oh, me and what army? I have enough cash on me to hire a small army to defend myself. Back off!

Having barely avoided an international incident we make our way through the court yard and to the Taj Mahal. I continue to try catching my breath when it is taken away again by the beautiful structure.

Motto of India

A co-worker and I have decided that the new motto of India should be "Deal with It."
Rolling black outs - Deal with It. Poor people everywhere - Deal with It. Insane driving - Deal with it. Cows in the streets - Deal with It. Come to India, where you will quickly learn to Deal with It. Control freaks, germaphobes, and anyone not willing to get out of their western comfort zone should avoid India.

Evil Monkey

On the way to Agra the driver suddenly pulled off to the shoulder of the road, said something to me in Hindi and got out of the car. WTF? Hello? Where the are you going? This doesn't look like the Taj Mahal. Oh shit!

All of a sudden my car was inundated with people trying to sell me cheap jewelry or beg for money. Everyone was tapping at the windows. All of a sudden a monkey jumped up on my window and pressed his body against the glass. Normally I love monkeys. Monkeys make up one half of my comic formula. JJ's comic formula for movies states "Any movie is funnier with a midget or a monkey. If it has both, it's hilarious." This was not a lovable monkey. This was an evil monkey. There was no laughter in his eyes, no mischief, only murder. His handler in broken English said "Get out car, picture monkey, hold monkey, monkey like you. " Fuck that! There is no way I am getting out of this car. That monkey is probably trained to knife me and steal my wallet. The monkey then back flipped off the window and held his palm out and pointed to it as if asking for money. Holy shit, this simian was trying to shake me down for some cash. No thanks monkey, I gave at the office. Where the hell is my driver? If I could drive in this insanity I would leave his ass here. Tap, tap, tap. That monkey was tapping on my window. Oh shit....he has a stick. Where did that monkey get a stick? Why wasn't I watching? The monkey draped the stick over his shoulders and smiled a most blood chilling smile. "Picture monkey, good picture, you get out. " Let me repeat - Fuck that! I am not getting out of this car unless you set it on fire. Wait...does that monkey have a match?

Just then a car full of westerners pulled up in front of my car. Every beggar, trinket merchant, and monkey handler ran to that car. I managed to snap one picture of the monkey without having to get out of the car or pay them for the privilege. Take that monkey, I'm smarter than you! JJ - 1 Monkey - Nothing. Oh no...he's coming back. Oh shit...go away monkey! Where the hell did he learn English?

The road to Agra

I know very little about Indian culture and history. All I knew is that I wanted to see the Taj Mahl. Luckily, I am working near Delhi so the Taj Mahal is a little more than a three hour drive away in Agra. I hired a driver to take me to there.

I stared out my window at the Indian country-side. Poor people lined the sides of the road like so much human debris. I thought I had seen poverty before, but I hadn't. Poor would be what some of these people could aspire to become. I saw people bathing in a sewers, sleeping in makeshift huts, and shitting in ditches.

The sun struck the window and I noticed my own reflection. I had more wealth on me than these people would ever know. I was listening to my Ipod, holding my $1000+ Digital SLR camera, checking the time on my Kenneth Cole watch, tapping my Nike covered feet, and checking my Levis to make sure I still had $400 in my wallet. A man stares at me while bathing in a sewer. I wonder what he thinks as I pass by.

The next few hours would pass by the same. More people, more poverty, and more self reflection on the road to Agra.

While India may be a country progressing at an astonishing rate there is an undeniable truth - India is filled with complete and utter poverty. High rise apartments, golf courses, and Audi dealerships can't mask the fact that someones toilet is the closest ditch. Or that your empty Coke bottle you threw out will be reused a thousand times by a child transporting dirty water back and forth from a storm drain to his hovel. Cell phones, Internet, and air conditioning may seem like something we can't live without. But remember the most fundamental necessities are and always have been air to breathe, food to eat, water to drink, and the safety of shelter. So many people is so many places still struggle to survive.

Seeing utter poverty probably won't stop me from spending $5 on cup of coffee or throwing away a half-eaten dinner, but perhaps it will always make me realize how truly fortune I am to be born with opportunity, to be born with safety, and to be born someplace else. Because on some plane of existence, in some alternate reality, I am on the other side of that car window. That is me bathing in a sewer and thinking how lucky that person is in the car that's going to Agra.

The souvenir I took back from Agra wasn't a snow globe, a t-shirt, or some stupid keychain. My souvenir was something so valuable that no store offers it; self-actualization. No matter how much I complain about bills, traffic, or any other modern annoyance - it's just that -it's just an annoyance. No matter how bad my life may seem at times, I will still drink clean water, have plenty to eat, and sleep safe and sound.

Lights out

Rolling blackouts are common in Delhi in the summer. I am sure the same is true throughout India. The poorly designed infrastructure was never meant to handle the increasing load of Western owned call centers, air conditioning, and a growing affluent population needing appliances, gadgets, and other electrical consuming products. The power in my room has gone out 5 times this morning since I woke up.

How many goats for her?

I have been amazed by the number of stunningly beautiful women here in Delhi. Apparently India is only exporting the smart women to the U.S. and keeping all of the beautiful women here. Greedy bastards. We gave you McDonald's and this is how you repay us?

Can't sleep. The clowns may eat me.

I am in my second week of anti-malaria treatment. Aside from the occasionally dizziness I haven't experienced any other side effect aside from the strange dreams. Strange doesn't quite grasps the weirdness of it all. My dreams have been extremely long, vivid, and utterly f'd up.
It's hard to describe the dreams I have been having. This video is about as close as possible to capturing the madness.


"A drunk person can learn to cope with things like seeing their dead grandmother crawling up their leg with a knife in her teeth. But no one should be asked to handle this trip."

New luggage

I bought some new luggage for this trip. I got tired of wondering if the black suitcase on the conveyor was mine. Why the hell doesn't someone make customized luggage? Buying luggage is like buying clothes from a store that only sells four different colors of shirts. Notice my awesome new luggage tags.

Holy Cow

Cows roam freely in India. As if driving in India wasn't hazardous enough, cows will just roam into traffic. I cannot stress enough about how perilous the driving conditions are in India. The U.S. State Department advises Americans not to drive while visiting India. According to the State Department "If a driver hits a pedestrian or a cow, the vehicle and its occupants are at risk of being attacked by passersby. Such attacks pose significant risk of injury or death to the vehicle's occupants or at least of incineration of the vehicle. It can thus be unsafe to remain at the scene of an accident of this nature, and drivers may instead wish to seek out the nearest police station." So if my driver hits a cow you can bet I will haul ass away from the accident.

In Hindu belief, the cow is considered scared, hence the term "Holy Cow." That is why there are no cheeseburgers sold at any McDonald's in India. No cheeseburgers? Pfft...I'm not lovin' it. I'm not knocking anyone's religion (for once), but there is no way I could belong to any religion that limits food, especially beef or pork. If God didn't want me to eat meat it wouldn't taste so good, especially pork. Oh sweet swine how I love thee. Maybe it's because I can't have a cheeseburger right now that makes me want one so. Mmmmm.....forbidden beef ahhhhh (drooling). Damn, when you consider all of the beef I have consumed over the years, I must be the equivalent of a Hindu Anti-Christ. When you come to think of it, I am offensive to so many religions.

The cost of labor

Americans always wonder why companies outsource overseas. The simplest explanation is the low cost of labor. For instance, I can hire a driver here for $25 a day. That cost includes ten hours of service in an air conditioned car, the cost of fuel, and up to 50 miles of travel. The f'd up thing is that the driver will wait by the car while I am at dinner or at work. I felt bad about the guy waiting in the 107 degree heat for two hours while I was shopping at the mall so I brought him a bottled water. Ahhhh....yeah I know, I'm soft hearted. Now drive me to my hotel and don't hit anything along the way dammit. Just to put the cost of service in perspective, the hotel will do my laundry for 73 cents per garment. Ironing is an extra 35 cents. Keep in mind those are hotel prices. My evil mind wonders what else my affluent American lifestyle could buy. I wonder if I paid the bellhop $20 would he fight my driver.

Now in India

I left Munich a few days ago. I had to connect in Paris before arriving in Delhi. I slept more than five hours of the almost eight hour flight. I rarely sleep on planes so I contribute it to lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion.

The first thing you notice when debarking the plane in India is the heat. It was almost 100 degrees at 10:00 PM. I waited in the foreign nationals line of customs for over an hour admiring the collapsing ceiling, water stains, and the random puff of cool air from an overworked HVAC. This airport would have to fix up a lot to even qualify for the label SHITTY. It's awful. Even the Delhi Airport's own website cites a report stating it is among the five worst airports in the world.
http://www.newdelhiairport.in/media-con.asp?id=360

As it turns out there was an Indian celebrity on the plane with me. The 7' 3" WWE star, The Great Khali. Aside from his enormous stature, the 1000+ people that poured into the arrival area chanting and screaming, made him hard to miss. I pushed through the crowd looking for my driver. I had gotten to the end of the line when I saw my misspelled name on sign. I have never been so happy to see the name Jasuun before. I had already decided if he wasn't here, I was getting back on any plane bound for Europe.

Once outside the airport, dozens of people tried to assist me and the driver to the car. Once all my bags were in the car a man demanded $20 for his service. $20 U.S. Dollar? Piss-off asshole! I wouldn't tip anyone in the U.S. twenty dollars to carry my luggage. I rolled up my window as he yelled at me in Hindi. Welcome to India I thought.

The ride from the airport was white-knuckled. There seem to be no driving laws in India. Cars would weave in and out of congestion with mere inches in between them and the next vehicle. The dividing line in the middle of the road is purely aesthetic. Don't feel like driving on the correct side of the road? No problem! Two cars in one lane? Why not? No turn signals? Eh. The driver turned up the A/C and turned on the radio. The station was a mix of modern Indian pop and American hits. The song playing was Bonnie Tyler's 1983, smash hit - Total Eclipse of the Heart. "Turnaround, Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes." How fitting. This song always reminded me of slow dancing (while grazing side-boob) with my high school sweetheart at the homecoming dance. Now that memory has been erased and replaced with a near death cab ride from the Delhi airport. Ah, nothing like memories.

The first thing I did when I made it to my room was to check under the furniture for cobras. Seriously, I did. This isn't written for dramatic effect. I seriously looked for cobras. The room met all my Indian travel expectations. The only thing missing was a mosquito net around my bed. I wanted to make sure it was cobra-free. I wonder if I can rent Rikki-Tikki-Tavi to guard my room while I sleep.

Random Munich Pics

These are some random pics taken while walking around Munich.

Transportation in Munich

One of the first things you notice while traveling in Europe is how well some cities are designed for people. What a novel idea. Let's build a city where people can live in it and be comfortable. Most American cities are designed for cars, not people. Poor or no public transportation, lack of sidewalks, sprawling development, and an overabundance of cars plaque most U.S. cities. I think there may be a conspiracy between automotive companies and The Department of Transportation. If we design cities around cars, people will be forced to drive. Bwhahaha (diabolical laughter). Whatever the case may be, much of Europe is pedestrian friendly with affordable, efficient public transit. In Munich, much of the city closed to pedestrians. Many people walk or bike to their destination within the city. In addition to bipedal transport, one may take the train, bus, subway, or trolley. Train service is also available to most of Germany and Europe.

Marienplatz

The Marienplatz is the central center of Munich. The area offers pedestrian-friendly shopping intermingled with historic sites. What was once home to tournaments is now home to The Body Shop, T-Mobile, and other western shopping.

More German Eats

Exploring the Marienplatz works up an appetite. I found a beer garden and had another traditional German lunch. My lunch consisted of the following:

• grilled aroma salt pork
• grilled spicy red sausage
• sauerkraut
• fried potatoes
• grated horseradish
• pickle

I decided to have a radler with my meal. It's a beer with training wheels. The drink is a combination of Augustier Lager (60%) and Lemon-Lime Soda (40%). The first taste is that of Sprite, but the finish definitely beer. The great thing about traditional German cusine is how nicely it pairs with beer. Fatty, salty, and sour make a perfect match to the hoppy finish of beer.

If you think you pay a lot for gas

This pic was taken at a gas station in Munich. The price for the lowest grade of gas is 1.49 Euros per liter. That equates to $8.68 per gallon. Damn! This is why the SUV doesn't exist in Europe and other places in the world. If the price of gas in America rises above $5 per gallon, then I predict we will see the extinction of the SUV.

This is what happens when you elect a "C" student

Congrats Bushy! You have finally achieved something during your presidency. You have the highest disapproval rating of any U.S. President. Mission Accomplished. Even though Nixon is burning in Hell, he can now breathe a sigh of relief.

"CNN Senior Political Analyst Bill Schneider adds, 'He is more unpopular than Richard Nixon was just before he resigned from the presidency in August 1974.' " Now that's saying something!

http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/05/01/bush.poll/index.html

Save the Internet and Get Laid. Restrictions Apply*

Tanya Devereaux should be nominated for the Noble Peace Prize. She will deflower any virgin if they can prove they are a defender of Net Neutrality. Support a good cause and get laid? No one ever gave me that option. The first time I got laid was just for my own selfish reasons, well and I needed to make $40 for a Boys II Men concert. Shut up! They were cool at the time and so was I.

Now keep in mind she won't have sex with just anyone. She does have some rules. One of which is that you have to be a virgin.

"if anywhere along the process, it becomes clear that the applicant is not a virgin, Tania reserves the right to terminate all activity"

Some of you haven't gotten laid in so long there is no way in Hell she will be able to tell you're not a virgin. Do it!

http://dontstayvirgin.movielol.org/main2.php

Don't forget to read her General Requirements and Rules of Conduct.

Funny Signs in Germany

The first sign in an exit sign, but it sounds like Ass Fart, so it's funny.

The second signs says that if you are being chased by flames, keep your head down and run like hell until you overtake that arrow.

The third signs says that dapper gentlemen wearing hats can descend this stair case.

Tasty

I have to admit, I have never been a fan of German Cuisine. Of course that was due to the fact I have had little to no good German food in America. I was hoping this trip to Munich would change my perception of German cuisine.

I couldn't check into my hotel until after 1:00 PM, so I checked my luggage with the bell hop and went off to explore the neighborhood surrounding my hotel. I was amazed at the number of gyro and kebab places surrounding the hotel. What the hell? Where's the bratwurst, the wienerschnitzel, the potato dumpling, anything traditionally German? I must walked for 6 blocks before I found a traditional German restaurant.

The restaurant was moderately busy with local patrons; always a good sign. I found an open table in the corner and sat down. The walls of restaurant were decorate with stuffed animals. I don't mean teddy bears or Disney characters, I mean taxidermied wolves, fox, deer, pheasant, and other animals that couldn't outrun bullets. The restaurant's focal point was a small bar adorned with hops. A waved down a waitress and with my best German, "Ein bier, bitte." She said something back to me in German, but "one beer, please" is most complicated phrase in my German lexicon. She came back a few minutes later with a tall glass of cloudy beer. The beer was Schneider Weisse Dunkel.

Gulp, gulp, gulp. Oh Sweet Jesus! Benjamin Franklin once said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." This is what Franklin was talking about. This wasn't good beer - it was great beer. It was smooth, slightly hoppy, and had a crisp finish. Most beer I have drank is piss compared to this. I quickly downed the beer and ordered another. The waitress returned with my beer and I pointed to the lunch special on the chalk board.

A few minutes later the waitress returned with my lunch. My meal consisted of a roasted pork, bread dumpling, potato dumpling, and a side of cabbage salad. The pork was moist, tender, and well marbled. The cabbage salad was a mixture of shredded and steamed cabbage, fennel seeds, vinegar, sugar, and some smoked pork. The potato dumpling had a chewy consistency and tasted like it had been boiled in chicken stock. The bread dumpling was rather bland, but served as a good delivery vehicle for the pork gravy. Overall, I was very impressed with the taste and quality of the food. Munich has restored my faith in German cuisine and introduced me to what beer should be.

In Munich now

The picture above is from the New City Hall in Marienplatz.