Rieko, New Girl at the Office...

You've been introduced to Haruna. Somewhere in the past I also offhandedly mentioned somebody named Saya. And Fumiyo, too. These were women I'd met before exclusively starting to date Haruna. But there were other women from those days whom I haven't mentioned. I just hadn't had the time to write about them.

Now this may sound a little funny, but too much female attention makes me uncomfortable. I guess... back in August, September and October, my life got to a point where I had so many dates to keep-track of, my calendar was starting to resemble the periodic table. Seriously, going-out to meals or coffee with six or seven different women every week can get damned confusing. I just simply can not juggle so many women at once. This was demonstrated to me one evening as I sat across the table from a pretty college student named Mika.

I was having coffee with Mika. I had forgotten to turn-off my cell-phone, and I got a call from Yukino. Yukino called to ask me about tomorrow's lunch-date, and I confirmed that I would indeed meet her tomorrow at noon. As I hung-up, I remembered that I also agreed to meet Tomoka for lunch tomorrow, too. Oh. Damn. Suddenly, somebody walks-by the restaurant who looks suspiciously like another woman I was dating, whose name is also Mika... I have a date with that other Mika that Saturday, but at that moment the Mika across from me decides to ask me if I'm free on that Saturday. Hold on, am I sitting across from Mika 1 or Mika 2? I suddenly forgot. My head began to spin...

I'm sure it's a womanizer's dream, but for me there can be such a thing as too many women. I'm just not sophisticated enough to handle the web of appointments it requires. I am incapable of successfully juggling six women for sport.

But these girls were great. Picking Haruna was tough. But of all the women I've dated over the past year, I still think Haruna was the sweetest. In my humble opinion, Haruna seemed to be the best of them all.

But this latest story is about Rieko who I've met quite recently. The case of Rieko is of extreme interest. Mainly because she is extremely hot, extremely sweet and she expressed interest in me but, I just couldn't accept her entreaties.

For My Next Act of Self-Abasement...

There is a somewhat embarrassing fact about myself which I have unintentionally revealed in past vignettes. Perhaps this is giving too much information, but my longtime readers already know that I simply adore to look at a woman with a pair of generously-sized and well-shaped breasts. I suppose I don't differ very much from many men in that regard. And I am very visually-stimulated. I suppose that's quite normal, too.

(Disclaimer: I think it is important for me to emphasize here that a woman's bosom is not the primary determinant of her worth as an individual. Absolutely not by any stretch of the imagination. But nonetheless, regardless of how much I insist that a woman's body is not what I primarily base my interests on, admitting any amount of interest in a woman's physical features will invite the accusation of 'pig' to be hurled by the occasional hotheaded, reactionary chick. "Heathen! Infidel! Farty-breath-poopie-head! You look at women whom you consider to be beautiful! You are but a leering PIG for whom hanging is too good!!!! You deserve to have your corpse desecrated!!!! Etc! Etc!" Well, that is all quite true. But these also tend to be the same deep-thinkers who write-in with laboriously-contrived pseudo-arguments along the lines of: "What gives you the right to criticize women when you are imperfect yourself?!" I'm not exactly certain when perfection became a prerequisite for making critical analyses, but anyway...)

Yeah, so sue me.

But anyway, every so often a rare woman will possess that perfectly ineffable and inarticulable combination of facial and body features that will evoke a peculiar reflexive reaction from me. When this happens, I periodically can't stop myself from making noises which sound a bit like "phwah" or "phwoo" or even "phshyuu". Yup, that's right.

Stop looking at me like that.

Yeah-- as if you don't have any embarrassing quirks.

Okay okay, maybe only one woman out of ten-thousand or so can evoke that sort of response from me. It doesn't happen often, but I really can't help it when it does. There was this one stripper for instance... well, you see what I mean.

(And for those of you self-styled wags out there who would write-in to make fun of this quirk of mine-- well, HA bloody HA! Aren't you so clever?? I sure didn't make it easy for you!)

Rieko Arrives-- The Temptation of NiceGuy.

Four weeks before the time of writing, I was sitting in my company's office. Doing the daily grind (I do software-related stuff). I was sitting beside Mercedes and Chizuko, our personnel director, walked into the room.

"We have a new employee coming-in today." She said matter-of-factly to us.

"I see. Who is he? She?" Mercedes asked.

"It's a she. Her name is Rieko. NiceGuy, can you help her set-up her computer?"

"Sure thing." I nodded.

Hmm... I suddenly wondered if I should straighten-up my desk? I looked at my cluttered workstation. I've spread my stuff over a total desk area that is the equivalent of two desks. I shuffle some papers and start to clean-up a bit.

Several minutes later, Chizuko walked-in with Rieko. They just came-in from the chilly winter air outside and had not yet taken-off their coats.

Chizuko quickly introduced Mercedes and I. We said hi to Rieko. It was somewhat noisy in the office; printers and photocopiers were going full-blast. We had to raise our voices.

"Hi!" Rieko smiled and bowed slightly. "Nice to meet you." Her English sounded very good. I stood and bowed slightly, we shook hands.

Rieko... her face was pretty. She had an extremely sweet smile and a bright pair of eyes. Actually, she was really, really pretty! She looked almost exactly like a carbon-copy of the actress Jolene Blalock, who plays the cheerless Vulcan T'Pol on the UPN series Enterprise. Minus the pointy ears and dour attitude. (Er-- not that I actually watch Enterprise, or anything... that would be nerdy!)

Ahem.

But the resemblance was keen nonetheless.

"Wow. She looks exactly like T'Pol!" I shook my head and muttered quietly to myself. Uncanny...

As Rieko took-off her coat, I went-back to work. Suddenly Mercedes gasped. I looked-up and dropped my pen.

"Phwah!" I gasped, too. I blinked to make sure I wasn't seeing things. A blast of hot blood wooshed-up into my head. "Phwoo..."

Rieko, although dressed in conservative office attire, had this incredible (that is the only word for it) bustline.

Where the hell did she get those? My God, I've never seen such a delectable, pulchritudinous, luscious, well-formed, ripened, squeezable pair of...

"Those cannot be real." Mercedes muttered. This was followed by something in Portuguese which I didn't understand.

"Phwah..." I can't rip my eyes away. As much as I know I shouldn't stare, I just can't stop.

Want. To. Touch... sorry, it's my biology talking. There's something visceral about it.

"Phshyuu..." Slips-out of me again, for good measure.

No, no- none of that! I tear my eyes away and look-down at my desk. I think of Haruna. That's right, she's lovely and wonderful. Three seconds later my gaze is drawn towards Rieko again.

Holy shit. It's incredible, I just can not stop looking at her. Such a slim waist and exaggerated hourglass figure, top-heavy like a Barbie doll. She must be falling-over constantly. How can her spine not snap in two from the structural imbalance?

"Bet she can't see her feet." Mercedes notices me looking. "They are distracting, aren't they?" She quips.

"Uh huh." I nod, not blinking once. Rieko hasn't noticed, though. I clench my eyes shut.

"Don't drool." Mercedes snorts.

"Hey, you drew-attention to it. Pig." Perhaps she did so out of jealousy? Bah, who knows? I put my eyes back at my desk and concentrate furiously.

It wasn't really Rieko's fault. She wasn't showing-off, she just was very generously-shaped and it would've been hard for her to hide her figure almost regardless of what she wore short of a burlap sack.

With Herculean effort, I manage to concentrate on my work. But still, in the back of my mind I am fantasizing about holding her up against me. I want to see her naked. No, no, no- I'm with Haruna. I shook those other thoughts out of my head. Yes, Haruna. Haruna is awesome, with her taut skin, smooth legs, kissable lips. Just lovely. Darn tootin'.

I help Rieko set up her computer, trying my best to concentrate on her eyes.

But Guess What?

I have to create a rather complex PowerPoint presentation and it has to be completed it by Tuesday of the following week. As luck would have it, Chizuko asked Rieko to assist me.

Oh man, here she comes.

Rieko walks-over to my desk and I frantically tear my eyes away from her body as she approaches. Dear God. It's like she's walking around with a pair of cantaloupes stuffed in her blouse.

"Phwah." I whisper under my breath. "Hi Rieko." I smiled and furiously concentrated on her eyes. But internally, I am rumbling with arousal.

"Hi, NiceGuy. We have to make this presentation by Thursday?" Her English sounded great.

"That's right." We sat-down next to each other and I showed her what I'd done so far. Okay, good. Focusing on work would distract me from her looks.

Rieko put-on some ovular, wire-frame glasses and looked-at the screen as I spoke.

Hm. Is it me or does Rieko look really sexy with glasses?

Yes, she does look sexy with glasses. I think she would look sexy wearing anything. She would probably look sexy if she was wearing a hat made entirely of stained sanitary napkins. In fact, she would probably look sexy if she had centipedes crawling-out of her nose.

We work on the project all afternoon together. I manage to focus on the task, but I'm still distracted. Horny. Tantalized.

Seriously- no matter how much self-control I can project, there are still limits to how sexy a woman can be before it starts to interfere with my thought processes. I certainly won't harass her, though.

After about an hour of work, we decided to take a quick break. She leaned-back in her chair and stretched her back. God, she was sexy.

"Phhh...." I managed to look away and catch myself in time. "...um, so where did you learn English?" I asked.

"I went to college in Canada, and I studied in New Zealand over the summer too." She replied, twisting her neck from side to side and rolling it around and back. There was a barely-audible 'click'. Nope, I won't be offering this girl a massage.

"Your accent sounds perfect."

"You think so?" She smiled brightly.

"Oh definitely."

We continued to work well together as the week progressed. Throughout that period, Rieko showed that she is diligent, focused and efficient as hell. I also began to notice that Rieko's personality matches her looks. She always seems to brighten the existence of the people around her with the seemingly limitless happiness she seems to radiate and the bubbly charm she keeps ready for immediate use. She's a real sweetie.

Secrets Are Exposed...

Friday afternoon I am hunched-over at my desk, reading the news online. Mercedes sits-down at her desk next to me, smiling oddly.

"I know a secret." She grinned.

"That's nice." I really didn't care. I was in the middle of a really good article...

"I. Know. A. Secret." She said again. Pointedly.

"Um... okay?" I suppose she wants me to ask her for more information. I don't feel like indulging her. It's Friday afternoon, it's almost time to go home, I'm about to spend the weekend with Haruna. "I know a secret too. My niece was born with a vestigial tail and had to have it surgically-removed several days after birth." (Heh! What a freak!)

"But my secret is about you." She continued.

Ugh. Do I look like I care in the least? I'm doing my best to politely indicate I don't give a damn. But maybe she'll only stop bugging me if I feign interest? Very well, then.

"Okay, what is it?" I asked, dropping my pen.

Mercedes' smile grew wider. "Somebody has a crush on you."

What is this, elementary school?

"I see. And who is it?" I asked, bemused at the sheer corniness of her statement.

"Well... it's..." Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial level. "Rieko."

"Really?" Oh? My eyebrow raised, my curiosity piqued. "How do you know?"

"I hear things." She shrugged, always eager to play the mysterious repository of privileged knowledge. Ugh.

"Did you mention to her that I have a girlfriend?" I asked.

"That's not my job. And I wasn't really talking to her, I was just overhearing. She said that you were really handsome and interesting and she likes you."

"Well, that bit is true- I certainly am adorable and charming." I smiled. "And I'm not at all surprised that I've made her shiver with a combination of mirth and lust. Thank you for letting me know. And thank you for eavesdropping on Rieko's private conversations and spreading potentially embarrassing information behind her back."

"No problem!" She beamed.

Yes I Am the Magic Plush Dolphin of Extra-Special Love, Thank You Very Much...

Up until Mercedes had 'slipped' her gossip to me, I was under the impression that Rieko was just another coworker. But, now it seems that she is interested in me as more than just a coworker.

I REFUSE to exploit Rieko. I REFUSE to manipulate her or take-advantage of her. I REFUSE to use her emotional attraction to connive stuff out of her.

After all, I'm not like an American chick.

I kept this in mind as I came-in to work on Monday. Rieko and I had two more days to resume working on the PowerPoint presentation. As we worked, we chatted a bit. We shared a few laughs. And by Tuesday evening we had finished. It was 8 PM, and we were both famished

"Want to go out to dinner?" She asked.

"Absolutely, I'm dying of hunger. There's a nice French place down by the subway station. Would you like to go there?"

"Sure!" We threw-on our coats and left the office.

It was a ten-minute walk to the restaurant. After arriving, we sat-down and ordered dinner. I ordered a pair of potato croquettes, salad with sesame dressing and a glass of red Italian wine. Rieko ordered salmon on a baguette, brie and a glass of white wine.

It was a really enjoyable bit of post-stressful project unwinding.

"Tell me your life story." I proffered, swirling the wine round and round in my tulip-shaped glass.

"My story? Where to begin?"

As it turns-out, Rieko is from a small city about two hours outside Michinoshi, in a different prefecture. Rieko went to college in Michinoshi and has been living here for the past 8 years. Her father is a land surveyor. Her grandmother lives in an extension of the same house- filial piety in action (awwww). Interestingly, Rieko's grandmother used to work for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. She began her work in the mid-1940s as a typist at the Japanese embassy in Manchukuo. Manchukuo being Japan's puppet state/colony in northeastern China after 1931.

"Wait a sec... she was in Changchun?" I asked.

"Somewhere in Manchukuo. The capital."

"Right, Changchun. So, she typed in the embassy?"

"She had a secret job." Rieko explained. "She had to use a kind of coded typewriter which sent reports to Tokyo. The typewriter was kept in a locked room."

"Really? That's very interesting." Hmm... Allied cryptoanalysts broke the Japanese diplomatic code around 1940, if my memory serves correct. All throughout the war, U.S. intelligence was reading Japanese messages to and from their embassies abroad. In Moscow, Switzerland, Sweden... even in Manchukuo. The cables all got intercepted and decoded. President Truman supposedly had a summarized report of these intercepts delivered to his desk every day, but there's no evidence that he ever paid very careful attention to them. I envisioned Rieko's grandmother hard at work in her locked-room. Her breath fogging-up in the frigid northeastern Chinese winter. Banging-away, trying to keep her fingers warm. Meanwhile in Honolulu, a pair of naval intel officers were sweating like hogs in the subtropical heat. Their own copy began to clatter-off the teletype machine... 'PLEASE SEND MORE PAPER CLIPS...'

I wonder if her grandmother found out that the codes had been broken?

At some point, she probably did. I decided not to bring-up the topic.

We continued to talk. Rieko's grammar is just about perfect and her vocabulary is absolutely enormous.

After finishing dinner, we sat peacefully in a mellow trance of satisfied fullness. We felt relaxed for the first time in what seemed like a long while. But suddenly, our cheerful mood got interrupted when the door whooshed-open...

"Gawd, Japanese buildings are always so fuckin' cold!"

Rieko's spine reflexively tightened. The sound was as head-jarring as metal-on-metal scraping. The words came with the thudding intensity of angry kettle-drums and full-auto gunfire. And that nasal, bumpkin-sounding accent! Sure enough, I glanced-over just in time to see a pair of North American chicks walking-in; their very presence seemed to suck the light out of the room. The restaurant immediately became polluted by these warbling little bundles of arrested adolescence and paroxysmal tics. They were coiled-up like a pair of tight little springs, loosely-moored to sanity. Their body language was like that of soccer hooligans trying to conceal the petrol-bombs they had smuggled into the stadium. Yep. They were your typical North American bitchiness addicts, all right.

Bitchiness junkies.

Bitchiness junkies don't speak in words.

They speak in proud, Technicolor explosions.

"Christ, no." I muttered under my breath. "We just ate."

This pair of malignant, human-shaped tumors sat-down at the next table and proceeded to engage in a competition to see who could out-carp the other. A race to the bottom, with an imaginary prize for who could rattle-off the biggest list of vituperative, pointless complaints. The crunchy-haired Tantrum Duo was about as likable as a pit of water moccasins. One seemed to be a puffy, queasy-faced, female version of Rick from "The Young Ones", the other looked astoundingly like a hairy-titted Beavis about to fly into spittling clench-fisted shrieks of "FIRE! FIRE!" The latter began to fidget by obsessive-compulsively fondling and masturbating with her ever so precious necklace as if it were some kind of combination rosary/clitoris; while mad-eyed Rick began furiously chain-smoking, anxiously drumming the table with her fingers and pawing at the floor with her foot as if she were a twitchy foal about to spit-up her first solid meal.
Both were obviously quite proud of their compact, cosseted little minds yet maintained an aggression towards any form of linear thought whatsoever. Furthermore, they each wore a type of facial expression which made them appear as if they were both constantly exerting a monumental effort to keep themselves from totally snapping at any instant. Shaky grips on their own minds.

One could come-away with the distinct impression that this pair was absolutely guaranteed to abuse their own kids some day.

I rolled my eyes in disbelief as this pair of starkly pathetic screech-monkeys continued gibbering to each other in their burping, helium voices. I looked over at Rieko- that professional, composed and supple young woman sitting across from me. And then I looked-back at those... those grubby, battered-looking sock puppets. Those spastic, runny anal sphincters who just couldn't shut the fuck up even if they wanted to. Those first-rate examples of fourth-rate Homo Sapiens who should've been strangled at birth. Those gob-flapping definitions of crassness who can always be counted-upon to behave in the most acrimonious, prickly and boorish manner possible. Maybe these chicks would like to order Gravy Train with a side of Xanax?

As I fought-back the red-hot urge to morph into EvilGuy, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the spectacle of these sad creatures who practically beg for a painful death and eternal excruciation in a sea of flame. Thank you, thank you for perfectly justifying my contempt for you reprobate, 35% obesity-rate-having demon-seeds. I hope both you bungholes get run-over by a shiny red knobby-tired Mitsubishi Pajero.

"Rieko, did this place get extremely obnoxious and barn-like all of a sudden?" I asked, somehow managing to keep my cool. She nodded. "There's a coffee shop next door. Ikimasshyo!" (Let's go!)

So with that, we stood-up and moved-on. Who wouldn't? I wanted to backhand the twisted sisters on the way out, but it would've been like kicking a pair of retarded puppies.

I don't have to make them look ratty and unbearable, they do that perfectly well on their own.

We went next door and ordered some coffee, Rieko decided to settle-down on one of the couches after we collected our drinks. We looked-out the window at the cold drizzle which had started to fall. I made a smart-aleck remark about the wheezing, blazing insanity of the chicks we'd left behind in the restaurant. Rieko laughed- she had been thinking the exact same thing.

We sat and tried our best to relax. There was a plasma-screen TV mounted high on the wall of the shop. It was showing the BBC. I indicated the screen.

"Often, I'm a news addict." I said.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yup. I usually get my news from the BBC or ITN. Or Reuters, or the Toronto Star. Absolutely anything but the US media. My neck is sore from continuously shaking my head back and forth for the past 18-odd months in cringing disbelief at how horrible the quality of the news is in America. Something about it is very deeply and fundamentally flawed."

"Why?" A curious smile spread across her pretty face.

"Because even though press freedom exists in the US..." I sighed and swallowed hard. "I hate saying this, but since September 11, the US media totally lost any and all sense of objectivity. Nominally, it is a free press but it has virtually become a propaganda organ for the White House. After the attack, the level of paranoid and jingoistic patriotism went completely over the top. They completely closed-ranks 'round the flag. I suppose that kind of reaction is only natural, but you'd also expect them to regain some perspective after a while. And consider this: according to a global index maintained by the organization Reporters Without Borders, the US ranks 17th in the world in terms of press freedom. Ranked below Costa Rica and Slovenia." I paused and looked at her somewhat sadly. "I mean, even before 9-11, White House press correspondents traditionally acted like a bunch of fawning sycophants. But today they accept statements from Ari Fleischer that they'd never accept from their own kids! The official word is always the final word. And a lot of the US news is so incredibly spinned, lazily-made, dumbed-down and tabloid that I just can't trust it. It's barely readable!" I sighed. "They present events with minimal historical context or background and omit plenty of relevant stuff. The corporate media treats the news purely as another form of entertainment. Well, there are a few good columnists here and there and my hometown has some great independent newspapers, but the vast majority of the big media is totally compromised. I've found that some of the most intelligent commentary on political events within the US comes from foreign sources. Every time I see American news, it looks more and more like a Disneyfied propaganda machine. It's kind of like wearing those magic sunglasses in the 1988 Carpenter film 'They Live'. Where all the billboards say stuff like: Stop thinking. Obey. Consume. Watch TV."

"Propaganda? Isn't that a little strong?" Rieko asked.

"It is a strong word, but I really mean it. There was a great book written about intelligence practices 50 years ago by an author named Ladislas Farago called War of Wits. He describes certain characteristics of propaganda, and the first one on his list is an emphasis on political personalities rather than on political developments. Today, we see multi-page articles in Time about what a great guy Dick Cheney is. Ass-kissing headlines about the Defense Secretary like 'everybody loves Rummy!' And ooh ooh is Bin Laden alive? Bin Laden serves the function of Goldstein in Orwell's 1984. The media goes on and on about politicians' images and image problems, but they ignore the events that are actually going on. What they should be reporting is that civil liberties are being gutted. That the Justice Department is starting to behave like Honecker's STASI. That both major political parties are whored-out to corporate donors and that our President is held in contempt across much of the globe. But hush now, we're at war! So we get twaddle about who is sleeping with who in Hollywood." I snorted.

"If a newspaper isn't good, then it won't have customers." Rieko replied. "So don't they have an incentive to provide good news?"

"You'd assume so, but that's not how the commercial aspect works. Think of it this way... how does the media make money? Its main clients are advertisers. Most magazines lose money on their subscription fees, but make their real money with ads. CNN doesn't make money by delivering news and entertainment to the audience, it makes money by delivering the audience to the advertisers. That is how they design their presentation: attract the biggest audience and to hell with practicing actual journalism. I first became aware of this sort of thing when they started televising tabloid non-stories like the OJ Simpson trial while ignoring absolutely everything else." I warm my hands around my mug and continue. "If they think it'll make bad TV, they won't show it. 10 million AIDS orphans in Africa? Too depressing. How to make your pudding zestier? That's more like it. I mean, the average political debate on US news programs is something like seven minutes. That's it. Seven minutes. Anything longer, and the audience will get bored. Plus, they have to slip-in commercials. Seven minutes per topic, that's barely enough to cover anything in-depth. The audiences are always chained-up in Plato's cave. It has been said that Americans are the best-entertained and least-informed people in the world. Sorry if I'm talking too much, I have a lot of opinions on this topic."

"No, go ahead." She smiled. "I like to practice listening. I'll interrupt you if I get bored."

"Good! Please do stop me if you get bored. Anyway, I think this media issue has a lot to do with the ownership structure. The US media is constantly getting consolidated into fewer and fewer hands. There was a big-scale deregulation of FCC rules under Reagan continuing under Clinton and on to today. Deregulation is still going and ownership is going to get even more concentrated. The present FCC chairman wants to relax rules about TV stations owning newspapers in the same locality, a practice which was prohibited in 1975, with a couple of exceptions. Anyway, the major sources of information in America today are comprised of about ten or so huge corporations, all of whom wish to ingratiate themselves with the state. Guys such as AOL-Time Warner, Viacom, News Corp, Disney, Vivendi Universal. The most famous example of this: General Electric owns NBC. GE also happens to sell a couple billion bucks of jet engines and weapons to the Pentagon each year. Massive conflict of interest right there, no? All of these big companies are diversified into TV, print, books, music, movies, cable, video rental outlets, book retail, Internet shopping and so on. Commercial radio has become extremely concentrated too. A company called Clear Channel owns a network of about 1,200 stations. But I really love to read The Economist though, I don't think it's been compromised. It's half-owned by a subsidiary of Pearson PLC, which is not in the same league as the top 10. It'll probably get bought-up one of these days, however. I hope not."

"But all those diverse types of business, is that not free enterprise?" Rieko asked.

"It is, but it's also a situation in which competition is reduced and the product quality suffers. These companies are heavily-leveraged, meaning they all need to speed their cash intake to the greatest extent possible. Everything they put-out is designed to bring-in as much money as fast as they can. They only want room in your head, so they aren't inclined to take risks or get too 'deep' with their shows. They just want to grab your attention to the greatest extent possible. So, all this means that the diversity of opinions in the news is continually decreasing. It narrows the scope of content and narrows the parameters of the debate. You end-up having identical news stories simultaneously released by CNN and Time. You have people on ABC morning shows saying 'wow, I had a great vacation at Disneyland last week!' The whole industry is totally shot-through with this kind of cross-promotion and wall-to-wall product tie-ins. Everything they do, it's just a sales pitch. It's insidious because when you watch the news, you want to think that they are responsible in checking their facts. That it's reliable and honestly trying to educate you, but the system only cares about selling more units. As a result, we have a huge number of commercials that masquerade as entertainment. The commercial is the show.
"And extremely significantly, these companies also need to ingratiate themselves with the largest customer demographics. For instance: the all-important female demographic, because females tend to spend more money relative to what they earn. The opinions of women are considered all-important because they hold a veto over big-ticket family purchases. Stuff like new cars, vacations, washing machines... as well as things like the grocery budget, kids' clothes and so on. So in order to attract female viewers, a lot of these TV shows and commercials are shot-through with a 'women are always right/men are completely useless' subtext. In a TV show, whenever there is a male-female conflict of some sort, the female almost always wins. Female secretaries are smarter than their male bosses. A wife knows how to fix the car better than her idiot husband. A young girl will outsmart a man thrice her age. Fathers are incompetent as parents. A man getting a kneed groin is hilarious. Jokes about small penises and impotent ex-boyfriends- why, those topics are the absolute pinnacles of hilarity in the female realm! All these topics are extremely cheap shots that are guaranteed to make a woman laugh, so it's a very successful marketing technique. They laugh at this cheap-shot potty-humor with the robot predictability of drooling Pavlovian dogs. It's a self-reinforcing feedback loop. Furthermore, men represent something like 97% of the violent deaths on TV shows- imagine that! Nobody dares to harm or criticize women in TV-land. Butcher men! Slay 'em, blow them up, but women will often be shielded from the most mild forms of criticism. It's the easiest way to gain the loyalty of female consumers: pandering to their common gender biases and stereotypes. 'We know that you are totally superior, girlfriend.' This is what attracts a moneyed audience of avid shop-a-holics." I was really on a roll. Rieko's adoring eyes were locked on me.

"And this bias totally gets carried-over into news reports. If you ever criticize women in the news, you'll get angry letters from pissed-off broads flooding-in from all corners of the country. Journalists want to believe they're sticking-up for the 'oppressed' and they don't want to get branded as sexist, so they'll always pander to whatever women want to believe. When a woman dies as a result of a crime or an accident, the reporters get all teary-eyed and whip-out their tissues. They use emotional phrases and emphasize the tragedy and the broader social context of female suffering. 'Oh oh how can we protect women more?' But when a man dies, they just sort of shrug. Ho hum. Bland, minimalist language. No emotions, quickly shift to something else. No biggie. A genderless worker was killed in some oil-tank explosion, but now in the exciting world of Paris fashion... The double-standard is so incredibly glaring and obvious that you can't not notice it. Unless, of course, you're as thick and absolutely clueless as the average American female is!" I almost spat. But then I sighed and calmed back down a bit.

"Well, getting back to the political aspect... all this stuff isn't merely irritating, it's also damn dangerous. The media is totally failing the American public, big time. They do not provide the public with information necessary to fulfill civic needs. And all the recent hooplah over going to war with Iraq is a perfect symptom of this, CNN showing the same clip of Saddam firing his shotgun over and over. I am totally reminded of the behavior of the yellow press in 1898 before the Spanish-American War broke-out. They were shouting in big, red headlines for armed force even before the Maine blew-up in Havana harbor. Turns out that the ship blew-up because of an accident. But that don't make a difference, we still had thousands of people fighting and dying in the Philippines until 1902*. But today we have Ann Coulter, our very own Dr. Goebbels with tits, throwing-around manic 'nuke 'em all/I hate Islam' wisecracks. And the debate shows on Rupert Murdock's FOX News are blatantly the most irresponsible collection of shouting heads that you'll ever see. The utter uniformity of editorial viewpoints on their network is like what you'd expect to get from Radio P'yongyang. They scream for blood nonstop. One time, they were reporting on a high-ranking al-Qaeda prisoner and their dead-eyed newscaster hissed: 'should we consider torture??' That is actually a really horrifying question, but they considered it fair game. And the decidedly un-scientific polls at their website are like: 'woosh-boom-crash should we nuke Iraq tomorrow? Absolutely yes or just plain yes? We are the completely fair network that everyone trusts!' Sheesh."

"I haven't paid so much attention to these events." Rieko shrugged. "And I can't say that I watch much US television. I have cable, and I can watch some American TV, but I don't."

"Out of curiosity, why?" I asked.

"I saw some American TV comedies a few times, and I didn't understand the humor." She frowned. "They were making jokes about TV shows and movies that I haven't seen. I didn't understand much of it." She furrowed her brow.

"Yeah, I can understand. A lot of American pop-culture humor is very self-referential. We have movies that make fun of other movies. TV shows that make fun of other TV shows. Commercials that make fun of other commercials. It's like a massive cult of self-referencing or peeking in a box full of broken mirrors. I don't know, maybe we make fun of commercials because we're so cynical of them? Maybe we like laughing at TV shows from 5 years ago because it makes us feel that we're more 'with it' today? Whatever. I'm sure it must be difficult for outsiders to appreciate the comedy. It only really serves those who watch a lot of TV or movies." I shrug. "And two generations from now, I have a feeling that nobody will understand the humor either. I mean this goes beyond humor, too... we have award shows that give awards to other award shows! How inbred is that?!"

As I was talking, Rieko appeared to be studying my face very closely. I grew a little self-conscious, did I have something on my lip?

"Um... is something wrong?" I put my hand-up to my face and felt-around.

"Oh, no. I was just looking because you have very nice teeth."

My teeth? Really? I thought mine were just average.

"Really?" I asked. Quite surprised. I'd never before been complemented on my teeth.

"Yes." She nodded. "They are so straight. Did you have... um, what are they called?" She made the universally-understood gesture for 'orthodonture' by drawing her finger across her mouth.

"Braces?" I replied, mimicking her gesture. "Yes, many years ago. But thank you for noticing. I have never been complimented on my teeth before." No, I've never been on the receiving end of that compliment before. Not once. I'd never considered my teeth to be of particular interest. I looked at her teeth, they seemed pretty straight. "Yours are very nice, too."

She shook her head and clenched her lips together.

"Oh, come on." I smiled. "Your teeth seem pretty good. They certainly aren't visibly crooked, at least. Gimme a smile?"

She shook her head 'no' again, lips still sealed together.

"Don't make me tickle you..." I threatened in a menacing tone and pretended to scowl. She parted her lips and flashed me a rather pretty set of pearly whites. "That's better." I replied. "Hey, do you have any pictures of your family?'

She nodded and pulled a photo out of her purse. Mom, pop, and a sister. On her own her sister was average-looking, but she looked dull next to Rieko.

"Your sister looks nothing like you at all. Wow, quite a difference."

"Well, we have the same eyes." I studied her sister's eyes. Yup, I guess she was right. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Rieko asked.

"Yes, one of each. I have a younger brother, who I get-along great with. And I have a sister, she's a doctor." And incidentally, she's also the reincarnation of Eva Braun.

"A doctor?" She replied. I nodded.

"She is married and has two kids."

"Oh, that's wonderful." She replied.

Is it? I screwed-up my mouth. Is it really wonderful for her husband? For her kids? They're going to grow-up and positively despise their mom one day...

"I... I don't really know if it is wonderful. For any of them."

"Why not?"

"Because... because my sister seems to have an incredible level of contempt for her husband." I sipped from my cup and continued. "Seriously, she really seems to believe that he is incapable of thinking or acting on his own. That he doesn't merit the respect owed to a human being. She doesn't really seem to see him as someone who is on the same level as she is. I mean for chrissakes, she forbids him to use sharp objects without supervision!"

"But I think they must be happy together." She suggested.

"I really don't know. Happy relationship..." For some peculiar reason I suddenly visualized the image of a leather-clad dominatrix wielding a bloodied whip. "Seriously, it's hard to tell sometimes. Their relationship, I mean." This mental picture was immediately followed by an image of nurse Ratchet from One Flew-Over the Cuckoo's Nest. "She can be exceptionally vile when provoked. Sort of like the Greek goddess Hera on a cranky day. Or one of those movie-monsters who feed on bullets and squashed Tokyo pedestrians. And she is totally convinced that her most abrasive and obnoxious behavior is proof of how tough and authoritative she is."

"Her husband, he must love her very much." Rieko insisted.

"Well yes, he does seem to love her. And I think I know why. My brother-in-law's dad was frightfully rich and died when he was about seven. After his dad died, the rest of the family consisted of his mother, an aunt and three older sisters. I swear, any one of his sisters could comfortably fill-in the uniform of a Stalag 17 Kommandant. For all of his life, he has been accustomed to having domineering women tell him what to do. How to dress. How to think. How to tie his tie. How to pee. Ad infinitum."

Rieko grinned. But I suddenly had a much funnier thought...

"Oh! In fact, you know those little plastic bobble-head dog dolls? The ones you put on the dashboard of your car? Whenever you hit a bump the head just endlessly nods 'yup yup yup...' Have you seen those?"

"Yes..."

"My brother-in-law is one of those plastic dogs!" I exclaimed. "Every time my sister bumps him, he just goes 'yup yup yup yup yup yup'! That's him! A grinning, bobble-head dog!"

Rieko suddenly erupted in a fit of unconstrained laughter.

"No, really!" I start nodding my head quickly. "Yup! Yup! I'll agree with anything you say! I'll buy you a luxury SUV! Yup! Yup! Yup! Can I please use the microwave on my own this time? Yup! Yup!"

"Ahahahahaha!" Rieko began to slap my knee. She was laughing so hard, I thought she was about to piss all over herself. She frantically waved her hand for me to stop talking and let her catch her breath. After six or seven seconds, she began to calm down and breathe slowly. She was red-faced.

"No, no!" She huffed and puffed and shook her head, trying her best to fight-back the laughter. "No, he must love her very much..." She wiped a tear which had been accumulating in the corner of one eye.

"Oh, I love you!" I started nodding my head again. Rieko exploded into a new convulsion of laughter; clenching her eyes shut and throwing her hands over her mouth. But I just kept-on nodding. "Yup! Yup! Yup! Is it night or day outside? I dunno, lemme ask my wife! Yup! Yup! I have been raised by castrating chicks and my testicles are the size of raisins!"

Still laughing, Rieko slowly began to calm and caught her breath anew. "Ohh.... ohhh..." She slumped against me. Panting and tired. She warmly began to stroke my arm. "Oh, omoshiroi! You are so fun..."

Hm... maybe I shouldn't let her get the wrong idea? I paused for a few seconds and wondered how to extract my arm from her grasp.

"Um, I want to get some cream. I'll be right back, okay?" I said.

"Okay." She began fanning her red face with a napkin. "Atsui! Laughing so much, I'm very hot..."

I got-up and walked-away. As I poured some cream into my coffee at the nearest condiment counter, I looked-back at her across the room. She had unzipped the front of her sweater and appeared to be peering in a compact mirror to preen her hair. Wow, she looks good. My mind immediately flooded with all kinds of flashing snippets of thought as I watched her.

Rieko is so hot. Bet she drank a bunch of milk growing-up. That long skirt looks really good on her, but I would kill to see her hemline go above the knee. It should be illegal to look so good. My God, those breasts are incredible. They project right-out like a shelf. Christ, I'm obsessing. I gotta stop staring at her. Must... control... urges... must... remember... Haruna!
Yup, I've got to break the news to her soon. I'm taken, Rieko. Sorry, I've got a girlfriend. Sorry for not making that clear earlier, but I never had a chance to really give you that information in a non-awkward fashion. Yeah, that's the ticket.

A minute later, I came back to the couch.

"So, where did you work before you came to our office?" I asked as I sat-down.

"Oh, I worked at a travel agency."

"Sounds very, very... dull. I mean, arranging other people's exciting vacations all day. It would make me restless."

"Yes!" Rieko laughed. "So very boring!"

"I'm planning to go to Russia next year. To visit my brother. I would also like to visit Estonia if I can, I heard it's a nice place. Since you worked at a travel agency, do you know how I can get any advantageous travel deals?"

"Maybe I can ask at my old company. I arranged my trip to New Zealand there."

"Why did you go to New Zealand?"

"I wanted to improve my English. And... um... I wanted to go on a vacation after I broke-up with my boyfriend." A melancholy look rippled across her face.

"Hmm. I see. Sounds like it was a tough time? One that you needed a vacation from, obviously."

"It was. When we broke-up, I was very hurt. He... he originally went to a very good college and I didn't go to a good school. When his parents found-out that he was dating me, they pressured him to end the relationship. They wanted him to be with someone who went to a better college." Her eyes looked sad.

"That stinks." I said.

"I was hurt. So, I went to New Zealand and that helped me to forget him. I'm not mad at him today. I know that he was under pressure from his parents. If I were in his situation, I wouldn't know what to do."

"Still, that's an awful message to give you."

"What about you?" She looked at me with her ultra-extra-super-sweet eyes.

"Me... well, um... " I sighed. "I guess I should have told you... I have a girlfriend." I shrugged. "Sorry for not saying so earlier."

She paused and looked-down at her feet. "Oh... I... I didn't know." Rieko sounded disappointed.

Well, she was genuinely disappointed.

"I'm very sorry to cause any hurt feelings." I looked at her face and used my most sincere voice. "I didn't know how to find the right context in which to tell you..." I shrugged. "The subject never really came-up until now."

"I was hoping you weren't taken." She paused. "Your girlfriend must be very wonderful and very lucky."

"She is wonderful." I smiled. "Sorry for not giving you that information earlier."

"You are very handsome." Rieko said. "And smart and interesting."

"Thank you, but I'm not." I blushed. "When it comes to speaking Japanese, I'm as dumb as a brick. But you know, you are an extremely gorgeous woman. You are more beautiful than any other woman in the office. You could be a model."

She blushed and clenched her lips tightly, trying to suppress her smile. She grasped my hand and whispered. "Thank you."

Suddenly, she leaned-forward and kissed me on the cheek.

Surprised, I looked back in her eyes. "What was that for?"

"That's for being nice..."

<Insert Silent Scream of Disbelief>

In Conclusion:

Yes, I talk too much. I never shut up. And I'm opinionated. I know. I know. If anything, Rieko is an extremely good listener.

And yes, I also won't cheat on Haruna. Boring, aren't I? Well, the special emotions that I get from Haruna resonate on a rather deeper level. I drew the line with Rieko soon after learning that she had an interest in me, and I was very careful not to deceive her about my unavailability. And I did it as tactfully as I possibly could.

But I want this to be yet another illustration of one major bit of information that might be of interest to those of you who are totally sick of dating in America... Dating doesn't have to be unpleasant. It can be enjoyable. It can be fun. It can be something you really look forward to. It can be a way for both people to have a great time. And a lot of the women here are incredibly likable. In terms of personality alone, Rieko makes the chicks back home appear downright thuggish.

When you leave North America behind, you also leave behind those laudanum-needing hell-spawns who are determined to make their personalities as excruciatingly unpleasant and unappealing as possible. Their behavior on dates indicates they want to hog the fun and burden you with planning and paying for the whole damn thing. And, of course, you have the 'privilege' of enduring them. These dilapidated, hollow-headed jumbles of psychopathology who lost their virginity at age fourteen and still insist 'I am not that type of girl!' As people, they just stink. They are about as genial as Bluto.

And as you stare into the plastic smiles and lizard-like, beady, lifeless, over-mascara'd eyes of a North American chick, you might start to wonder: do they really act like that on purpose? Yes, a lot of them must.

It's the only way those blotchy-faced, niddering, fanged, 'ladies' could possibly get to experience that scrumdiddlyumptious feeling of being so incredibly hideous, while being so proud about it too.

But God, do I love the women here...

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* The Philippine Insurrection (AKA the Philippine-American War) was officially declared to be ended in July, 1902. However, minor clashes with a variety of partisans occurred as late as 1913.

"I'm hard on women, modern Western women, that is, because we are a bunch of spoiled, irresponsible (safe sex is a reality, but we still have 1.5 million abortions!) impossibly demanding feminist throwbacks." -- Taylor Marsh.

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