I’ve finished watching “Straight to Hell” on Netflix.
This drama is based on a true story of the most famous/notorious fortune teller in Japan, Kazuko Hosoki. She was the face of showbiz about 20 years ago, like one of those TV evangelists in the US, and even if you despise her it was hard to avoid seeing her on television, berating celebrities mercilessly in her glittering dresses that only Liberace could compete.
One of the most absurd things was that some comedians were forced advised to change their names to succeed. A comedy duo Osaru (which means monkey in Japanese) and Coala (which means Coala in Japanese) both ended up changing their names to Monkikki and Happi Happy respectively. Never seen them since.
But what stuck to my brain so strongly was when Stevie Wonder and Bon Jovi guested for her show. I remember being taken aback by her holding Stevie’s hand without asking, like she’d know him for years, and felt disgusted how arrogant she was. Although the Netflix series is pretty much exaggerated, it confirmed my gut instinct that she was really good at sucking up to influential people.
I think Bon Jovi were on the show to promote their new album. In retrospect, it’s unbelievable a band as big as Bon Jovi to be on such a programme hosted by a shady fortune teller - I felt sorry for them. She told them she loves rock music, saying it’s a sound that comes straight from the core of your heart. I wonder how many audiance believed this revelation. I didn’t. I thought it’s a downright lie. She wouldn’t have noticed if it were Wrong Jovi in the studio.
Eventually, it was her connection with Yakuza that ended her career in television, but she had enough ardent followers to keep her rich until the last breath. It was all too crazy but nobody was aware what the fuck was going on. 20 years has passed. Nothing much has changed.
I’m very cautious about buying things. I would spend ages on pros and cons before purchasing and ask myself if I really need it or I just want to “have” it. Most of the time it works fine. Sleep on it for 6 months. Chances are you won’t even remember what you were buying.
But sometimes, I totally lose control and buy ridiculous things without doubting the slightest if I’m making the right decision.
The very first “mistake” I made was a humongous book called The Official Michael Jackson Opus.
This book was published not long after the King of Pop’s sudden and tragic death. At the time, I was shell-shocked by the news as I was a massive fan. I genuinely thought I could never get over it. This opus looked so appealing to commemorate his life and prove my love for the late singer so I stupidly spend most of my savings for this.
This book is, literally, magnificent. It’s full of high quality photos and writings by Michael’s friends (including the guy who made allegations against Michael in the Netflix documentary a few years ago). Once you open it you’ll forget the time. The thing is, it weighs more than 10 KG. It’s so big that it could be used as a coffee table if it had wooden legs attached to it (copyright: Cosmo Kramer). Obviously, it’s not something a high school student who lives with parents should buy. Not easy to carry around and unable to put in a shelf, pretty soon I lost interest in the book. It turned into a kind of elephant in the room until, much to my mother’s relief, I came back to my senses and got rid of it. Don’t ask me how.
The second one is an autographed picture of an actor Tim Curry.
I bought it from a company called OC Celebrity Marketing which sells autographed items and organises live signing events. You order pictures, and celebrities autograph them for you at signings. This is how it works, except for stock items.
At the height of my Tim Curry obsession, I saw a post about an upcoming signing event on his official Facebook page. After a brief consideration, I ordered a photograph of him as Long John Silver from Muppet Treasure Island. It cost me around ¥30,000. The event was live-streamed very early in the morning in Japan time. Although I was half-conscious while Tim was autographing and answering questions from fans, I’m 100% sure I saw my item being signed in my own eyes.
Shipping was fast. Only one or two days later, it left the US and delivered to my place in two weeks. I opened the package in antici… pation, and a surprisingly plain copy of Tim greeted me. I mean, if you paid ¥30,000, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect a quality picture like those in Michael Jackson Opus, or is it?
Anyway, quality aside, I was excited having an autograph of my favourite actor. So excited that I decided to rewatch the live footage to see him signing this paper I was holding.
That’s where my excitement waned. I compared the signature on the one I got and the one in the video.
It was different.
I was puzzled, then I remembered it has an authentication number. I typed it on the website if it had been registered.
There was no result.
My suspicion grew and I contacted the customer service. At first, they seemed really helping, but soon they started giving me the runaround and stopped replying altogether. Nothing has resolved to this day.
I’m guessing they sent me a stock item for a reason I would never know. What happened to my item then? The autograph itself doesn’t look like printed, so it could be legit unless someone faked it.
Later, I learned that a lot of complaints has been made against them. It’s hard to believe Tim Curry’s management team are doing business with such an unreliable company, but what’s done is done. Since I can’t prove they sold me a fake autograph, all I can do is take it as a lesson. Think twice.
Father Ted is undoubtedly the funniest sitcom I’ve ever watched. Every sitcom has one or two shitty episodes but it has none, in my opinion.
Despite that, I threw away a DVD box set I owned a few years ago - which took weeks and weeks to be delivered from London. Why? Because by that time most episodes were made available on YouTube and I was absorbed in some sort of minimalist ideology, so I literally hacked it into pieces and chucked them.
But now, I have two copies as you can see in a picture above.
What happened was, I recently watched a Netflix series called How to Get to Heaven From Belfast, another brilliant creation of Derry Girls’ Lisa McGee. In this comedy-thriller, Father Stone (Michael Redmond) is a cop, Tom (Pat Shortt) is the main character’s father and My Lovely Horse is used in the final episode. It’s full of Father Ted easter eggs, and yet again, I went down the Craggy Island rabbit hole.
This is when I realised I made a huge mistake getting rid of the DVD. You can find most episodes on its official YouTube channel, but in fact, some of them such as Christmas special and the final episode are missing. Unofficial uploads cover them all but watching three videos in a subpar resolution to finish one episode is rather frustrating.
So I looked up Amazon to repurchase it. Shockingly, the price has shot up since and it’s more than doubled what I had paid. I seeked for other opitons, then found out that a bookstore in Tokyo had been putting a used copy on a marketplace (I still have no idea why, given its non-existent popularity in this country). The price was only 2,000 yen - what a bargain!
This is what you can see on the left in the picture. The very first Father Ted complete box set which was released 20 years ago. Careful now, 20 years are a very long time for DVD or any human kind, and you might end up getting a damaged copy - like me.
All 4 discs are heavily scratched and worst of all, the disc that contains series 3 episodes keeps freezing and not a single episode can be played. It’s totally fucked up. Maybe the previous owner couldn’t stop watching Bishop Brennan being kicked up the arse again and again until it wore out, I don’t know. It’s a real pity because this early edition has unique title menus, like if you hit “play” button there’s a cutscene of Mrs. Doyle turning the light off.
Eventually, I bought a brand new copy (item on the right). An illustrated edition that I used to own, except the packaging was made of paper and came with postcards back then. Somehow, it went less eco-friendly and now it’s plastic. I’m not particularly keen on this artwork, to be honest, but I’d say it’s the best choice for anyone who considers getting a physical copy at the moment. I’m quite happy with visual quality - it looks like full HD compared to those grainy YouTube uploads. It also has lots of bonus contents including Father Ted documentary “Small, Far Away”. It’s an absolute treat.
I’ve heard that some Gen Z’s are getting tired of streaming and now collecting DVDs and VHS. I don’t see a point in collecting VHS in this day and age but DVDs, I totally understand. We are forgetting the joy of owning music, films and TV shows we love while paying bucks for subscriptions.
I still have “less is more” mindset in a way and buying two copies of the same sitcom is normally the last thing I would do, but here I am. It’s ironic that having lesst things doesn’t nececssarily make you a minimalist - your shelf may be empty but you have millions of films on your computer anyway.
In memory of Ben Keaton (1956 - 2026)
Todd Rundgren’s concert in Tokyo was absolutely amazing. There were an acoustic set in the middle, an audience participation during “Bang the Drum All Day” (I cursed myself for being too shy to raise my hand when Todd said “Anyone?”… Damn!) and a performance of The Call’s 1981 hit “The Wall Came Down”. It would have been nice if he played “Down With the Ship”, which is my favourite track from Space Force and I have never heard it live, but well, maybe it’s not the right time for the song at the moment.
The recent passing of Wolfgang Heichel (left), a member of German pop group Dschinghis Khan, took me down the memory lane.
I was in my early teens when their song “Moskau” suddenly went viral on the internet. Bear in mind, it was pre-Tiktok or Instagram. All it needed was a Flash animation God-knows-who created, which eventually led to the birth of Japanese fandom, a couple of newly compiled compilation albums and one girl’s obsession with German music.
The fact that you once was mad about this kind of group may be something you want to hide at all cost from your hip music friends. I mean, if you put every camp act around the world into a blender, you get Dschinghis Khan. They were German producer Ralph Siegel’s take on Boney M., except he himself never doubled as a lead singer. A collection singers and musicians across Europe, fronted by a South African born dancer, they were formed for Eurovision Song Contest 1979 and came in fourth place.
Now that’s interesting, because I was thinking early to mid ‘70s. Sparks released No.1 Song in Heaven in 1979. The Who’s Who Are You and Todd Rundgren’s Hermit of Mink Hollow both came out in the year before. Sure, I’m talking about Schlager pop and you can say those bands were ahead of their time, but I’m surprised how old-fashioned Dschinghis Khan sound, even for the ‘70s.
Were they a comic act? I don’t think so. Despite of all the eye-catching costumes, it's not that they were not doing a comedy show. They were not trying to make people laugh - but smile. Check out their videos. It’s impossible not to smile. They’re having a blast!
Funny things about songs of your teenage years is you can still sing them regardless of the language. Although, my German skills have never been above Duolingo level.
I think the best way to put them into words is this: ABBA in excess. Their music is actually, really good. It ticks off everything you need for a catchy song, and how it was presented visually is nothing but fun. You need a certain ability to achieve this. They were just a bit too much.
I’m using past tense here - they were - but who knew they ARE still doing? They reunited in 2005 and later split into several groups. I heard something about legal actions and lawsuits, so things are much messier than it looks, I guess. Sadly, it’s always this sort of thing that wipes the smile off your face.
If you deal with crippling anxiety for too long, you start to develop strange thinking patterns. I have loads of them, and one thing in particular bothers me the most - I feel like I’m completely out of place everywhere I go.
It takes a lot of courage to go to coffee shops cooler than Costa, instagrammable cafes or classy restaurants that serve tiny food, because I fear being sniggered at. No matter how I try to look presentable and act normal, my brain tells me I’m the biggest clown in the room. More often that not I end up scoffing a rice ball from Seven Eleven on a nearby bench, which makes me more unapproachable, ironically.
Same for travelling. Once I got in to my hotel room, the hardest part is getting out. I need a round of deep breathing and thorough double check in the mirror - to make sure I don’t look like an idiot - before hitting the road. Then I feel nervous again while I’m out, as if everyone in town thinks a weirdo has appeared and about to blow herself up. Exhausting. I have no idea how many fun moments has been ruined by this bullshit over the years.
What I found especially tough is this. There’s a band I’ve been following for years. I saw them many times, was a member of the fan club at one point and even sent them fan letters(!). Still, I have this nagging feeling that I don’t belong to the fandom. Whenever I’m at concerts or try to connect with other fans online, I become so insecure I imagine people are thinking “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re not welcome here, now piss off”. I’m very good at pretending not to care, but I’m struggling underneath like a duck swimming in water.
It seemed to me, those who actively post fan art or organise events like a month-long listening marathon on social media and recognised by the band are regarded as “true” fans. Just listening to their music is not enough nowadays. Contribute. Write perfect gig reviews. Praise them as eloquently as you can. You have to be on social media at least. Otherwise, you'll miss what they had eaten in France or who they met in Japan. You should know everything about them - this was what I thought.
The very first time I saw them was also my first ever solo trip. I wanted to make it perfect and I was quite happy about having done everything on my own, planning and making reservations and all that, but a few days after the show I saw posts on Twitter by some fans who stayed by the backstage door and took pictures with the band members. You’ll never know how hard I blamed myself for leaving the venue too early, for not being courageous enough to grab a chance to meet them. I had seriously thought about joining social media just to become like everybody else, to drown myself in a tsunami of information just to keep up. But then again, I know I would be obsessed and checking what’s up 24/7. That's why I’m not on social media in the first place, anyway.
The whole thing is totally absurd. Yet, it’s really hard to overcome this trick that my brain keeps creating for decades. It actually took a while to stop brooding over it, realising you don’t need to dedicate your life and become a superfan. In reality, most people aren’t and sometimes it’s better not going too far. Let's be honest, if you have to turn men in their 70s into twinkle-eyed manga characters to get a nod from them, I’d rather be an outcast.
I’m a magnet of awkward moments.
While on a trip one day, I took a bus to Heathrow Airport. There were no empty seats, so I had to stand all through the journey holding a heavy suitcase. It was quite a task because mine did not have wheel locks and it kept going berserk on a bumpy road. Just before it reached my destination, I thought, "Oh god, I have to push a stop button". I tried to reach for the button, handling this wheeled monster, slightly hurting myself in the process. All the while the passengers were sitting pretty. I successfully hit the button and then, seconds later, I heard this announcement - THE NEXT STOP IS… HEATHROW TERMINAL. It was the terminal station. Of course it was. Every single person leaves at the terminal. No need to push any button, you idiot!
Things like these happen a lot. When I was walking down a road in suburban Glasgow, desperate to catch a train, there was nobody but a boy in front of me. I was walking fast because I didn’t want to miss my train. The boy kept looking back at me, as if he’s been stalked by a suspicious Asian woman. About halfway through, he ran into an apartment. I couldn’t help thinking he might have gone for help. I don’t know, maybe I was just being paranoid, as is often the case.
But the worst one is when I was surrounded by a whole family on a train. The train from Edinburgh to Glasgow was not crowded, so I went for a table seat. A little later, an elderly man sat in front of me. He started reading a book, and I was with my earbuds on listening to music. We were minding our own business. At one point, a family of four came in. Mum and dad with two little kids. As most seats were half full, they split in two, dad and his daughter next to us, mum and the youngest the other. It wasn't an ideal situation, but I didn’t mind because I had a company.
But to my horror, the man got off after a few stops and the situation became worse than “not ideal” for a dead introvert. Naturally, the rest of the family filled his vacancy and they started playing cards. A full-on family situation. With hindsight, I think I should have offered my seat or had a wee chat, but I genuinely panicked. Stuck in the corner, all I could do was making my already small self as small as possible, as if it would make me invisible. I was feeling like that mysterious man at a wedding ceremony, the guy that not a single family members recognised who the hell he was. It lasted until they moved to the next table when it became empty.
I tend to overthink about such incidents. It’s a major source of self-hatred and I really couldn't overcome to the point of regretting the whole trip. It’s ridiculous, I know. But I’ve learned recently that the only way to get over it is not giving a damn about it. At the end of the day, I’m not 100% sure if I actually scared the shit out of the boy or the family remembers me as a laughing stock. Chances are all the negativities are only in my head. Even if they’re not, so be it. Just forget and move on. Channel Graham Chapman - It’s silly, silly, silly… Right, get on with it!
Baz Luhrmann’s EPiC (Elvis Presley in Concert) was fantastic. I was mesmerised by every second of it. It's not entirely a concert film, ...
