Thursday, April 14, 2005
Women Are Not Psychic
This post is a result of me thinking about my last post, and realizing that I had painted women as somewhat alien, even if definitely powerful. I do think that women are better at understanding human relationships, but I'm not saying that as an excuse to get me off the hook for being an understanding boyfriend, friend, son or brother. I think lately I haven't been much of any of those. So this entry appears to be a confession, not of any dark, deep secret, but of my inability to connect with people lately. I guess it does have some benefits in that I can think deep, dark thoughts and be ever-so-slightly more creative in thinking up ideas for stories and scripts. I'd rather just be happy and get over it. So in honour of that I'm going to start making more of an effort to get out there with the people who are important to me. And I'm also going to start running and working out in the cheap gym near my apartment.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Snarky Comments
Due to a snarky comment on the previous post, I feel compelled to continue my blogging endeavours.
Today we shall discuss the tv shows called "Survivor: Vanuatu" and "The Apprentice". Vanuatu is last season's survivor, and I just finished watching my downloaded episodes. I like to wait till the season is finished before downloading because then I can watch them over the course of a couple of weeks, with episodes back-to-back. That way I avoid that terrible feeling of dreading what might happen next on the show. Both Survivor and The Apprentice are good at instilling dread, though for the Apprentice it only lasts during the tasks and the judging, and is extinguished after Trump has finished lambasting the three "disappointing" or "stupid" executives. Then everything is a-ok because I don't give a fuck about the future executives of America. Those people are mostly full of shit anyway. Except Bren, the trial lawyer from Georgia (or some southern state) - he always has a Southern drawl going on and looks like he'd rather be sipping bourbon and discussing plantations. I like that. (I mean, other than the whole slavery thing.)
Survivor episodes, I get caught up in the truly petty but hubristic personalities of these people. They are like the squabbling gods of Greek lore, with all the legendary powers of instant celebrity and being on a desert island competing for a million bucks to draw out their natural characters in full fauvist bloom. And when the women's and men's teams mingled, but the editors showed us viewers clips to make it clear that the women were still a team, damn! That was scary stuff for me, as a man.
It spoke to some atavistic fears in me that women know stuff that men don't. I mean, why else do the girls laugh at me instead of replying to my "Konnichi wa"? The boys just say Konnichi wa right back at me. I have occasionally considered the possibility that all women have psychic powers, and that men were simply born without; we are necessary for the procreation of the race, we can create cool things, but we just don't quite have the same level of understanding in a conversation. Especially about alliances. Needless to say, the women were much better at playing the game than the men, and they wittled the men's numbers down at every tribal council, by convincing the remaining men to vote one of their own gender off. Because "it's good strategy to vote him off now. We'll get her next round." What fools - the men fell for it until they were a tiny minority. Interesting that the two leaders of the female coalition were lesbians. Interesting, also, that these two - young Amy and old Scout - hated each other. Scout was a cool customer. Amy was pure, vilest, blackest manipulation. God I felt good when she got the boot.
If I were a Survivor contestant I think I'd make it at least to the final 9. Maybe even final 4. The key would be to not use big words, so as not to alienate people. Clever.
Today we shall discuss the tv shows called "Survivor: Vanuatu" and "The Apprentice". Vanuatu is last season's survivor, and I just finished watching my downloaded episodes. I like to wait till the season is finished before downloading because then I can watch them over the course of a couple of weeks, with episodes back-to-back. That way I avoid that terrible feeling of dreading what might happen next on the show. Both Survivor and The Apprentice are good at instilling dread, though for the Apprentice it only lasts during the tasks and the judging, and is extinguished after Trump has finished lambasting the three "disappointing" or "stupid" executives. Then everything is a-ok because I don't give a fuck about the future executives of America. Those people are mostly full of shit anyway. Except Bren, the trial lawyer from Georgia (or some southern state) - he always has a Southern drawl going on and looks like he'd rather be sipping bourbon and discussing plantations. I like that. (I mean, other than the whole slavery thing.)
Survivor episodes, I get caught up in the truly petty but hubristic personalities of these people. They are like the squabbling gods of Greek lore, with all the legendary powers of instant celebrity and being on a desert island competing for a million bucks to draw out their natural characters in full fauvist bloom. And when the women's and men's teams mingled, but the editors showed us viewers clips to make it clear that the women were still a team, damn! That was scary stuff for me, as a man.
It spoke to some atavistic fears in me that women know stuff that men don't. I mean, why else do the girls laugh at me instead of replying to my "Konnichi wa"? The boys just say Konnichi wa right back at me. I have occasionally considered the possibility that all women have psychic powers, and that men were simply born without; we are necessary for the procreation of the race, we can create cool things, but we just don't quite have the same level of understanding in a conversation. Especially about alliances. Needless to say, the women were much better at playing the game than the men, and they wittled the men's numbers down at every tribal council, by convincing the remaining men to vote one of their own gender off. Because "it's good strategy to vote him off now. We'll get her next round." What fools - the men fell for it until they were a tiny minority. Interesting that the two leaders of the female coalition were lesbians. Interesting, also, that these two - young Amy and old Scout - hated each other. Scout was a cool customer. Amy was pure, vilest, blackest manipulation. God I felt good when she got the boot.
If I were a Survivor contestant I think I'd make it at least to the final 9. Maybe even final 4. The key would be to not use big words, so as not to alienate people. Clever.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
The Bike Ride of Anthony and Myles
myles in front of junky boulders
myles and anthony get crouchy
rice field and sunset
more rice field and sunset
a japanese cemetery
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Holding for Loans
I'm currently on hold on an outsourced phone centre which handles calls for my student loans. They are playing 80's music from bands you've never heard of. My loan officer - nearly parole officer - huffed and put me on hold when I asked him to fax me the forms I had already filled out, instead of new forms.
When did it become a problem to do exactly what your job is? When companies started calling employees a resource and called in efficiency experts to do team-building exercises, that's when. The customer service centre is definitely the first sector to develop cracks in the facade of corporate unity and "we're all on the same page"-ness. What gets me are the catch phrases these poor, angry bastards have to spout at the beginning and end of calls. "Thanks for calling National Bank of Monopoly, customer service division, this is Todd Rundgren speaking, how may I help you today?". "Well i was wondering about...". The answer is usually "Can I have your name, social insurance number, address, telephone number, and code for verification purposes please", or it could be "please hold", at which point they go off and have coffee for a few minutes, chat about Jennifer Garner's ass, remember they have a "client" on the phone and run back. "Sorry to keep you waiting sir. I was on hold myself with another department. I'm going to have to speak to my supervisor about this." Hold.
Granted, that's the only way you can keep the spark of human intelligence in you if you work at these places. I know, I did. It was in another form - not quite so faceless, not quite so important - hell it was a chain camera store, but I got my taste. It tasted like the metal of robots and the cardboard of display signs.
When did it become a problem to do exactly what your job is? When companies started calling employees a resource and called in efficiency experts to do team-building exercises, that's when. The customer service centre is definitely the first sector to develop cracks in the facade of corporate unity and "we're all on the same page"-ness. What gets me are the catch phrases these poor, angry bastards have to spout at the beginning and end of calls. "Thanks for calling National Bank of Monopoly, customer service division, this is Todd Rundgren speaking, how may I help you today?". "Well i was wondering about...". The answer is usually "Can I have your name, social insurance number, address, telephone number, and code for verification purposes please", or it could be "please hold", at which point they go off and have coffee for a few minutes, chat about Jennifer Garner's ass, remember they have a "client" on the phone and run back. "Sorry to keep you waiting sir. I was on hold myself with another department. I'm going to have to speak to my supervisor about this." Hold.
Granted, that's the only way you can keep the spark of human intelligence in you if you work at these places. I know, I did. It was in another form - not quite so faceless, not quite so important - hell it was a chain camera store, but I got my taste. It tasted like the metal of robots and the cardboard of display signs.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Happy Birthday To Me
Happy Birthday To ME!
I watched these guys sumo the hell out of each other a couple of weeks ago in Osaka. And now they're spicing up my birthday page.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Sick Days
I'm hanging around in my apartment wearing the same pj's I've been wearing for the past 2 days. Occasionally reading "the wealth of nations" and occasionally watching downloaded tv programs. Yesterday I watched a little bit of a Japanese cartoon in which a family had a little spirit as a guest for dinner, and the spirit commented on their table manners throughout dinner. The family actually liked this spirit. Personally I would have kicked it out, but I guess that's what makes me different from the Japanese.
Reading Adam Smith.
Reading Adam Smith.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Sucker for taunts
Something I noticed about living in Japan is that people will never say hi to me on the street unless they are under the age of 15. And I'm not talking about white people, or even people who know me. Maybe that's not so strange after all. Maybe it's strange that 12 year olds will frequently give me long drawn-out herro's. The bratty kids have a way of accentuating the r's in English words that don't even have r's, as if to say: "Your language has r's, loser. And I can't speak it, loser." Oddly enough the taunt works. Of course I've always been a sucker for taunts, as Sarain can attest.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Boomerang
The aussies say a boomerang is a thing you lend to someone that comes back. They applied that label to a corkscrew they lent me, and it turned out to be true. Well I'm a boomerang in my ideas about Japan. It seems like staying in Japan could be feasible: i.e. I could remain sane. Only if I start working hard on a project so that I have something to show for the extra year here, will it be an acceptable decision. In that vein, I've begun to learn Dreamweaver, scope out webspace, and think about content for my long-passed-off culture/media commentary website. Perhaps I told some of you my readers about this. It's nice to be finally taking action - as of last Wednesday.
BUT the best laid plains may something something. And in my case that means a debilitating lower back pain that saps my will to live, compose, do anything. Except that this morning I feel well enough to type zee blog. Don't worry folks, it's not that bad. Mainly it's annoying and a pain in the ass, er, back. [Ahhh, the intentional 'er'. Propper-up of old chestnuts!] My other project, which may never emerge from it's gestation sack due to the absence of a video camera, is dun-da-daaa.... to make a video! About.... something!! I figure it's been several years since my grade 7 masterwork in neo-dada confusionism, replete with dream sequences, stomping football players, and yours truly as the young-voiced narrator. I need the balls of that young me! Not literally, obviously, but the chutzpah, the drive, the disregard.
BUT the best laid plains may something something. And in my case that means a debilitating lower back pain that saps my will to live, compose, do anything. Except that this morning I feel well enough to type zee blog. Don't worry folks, it's not that bad. Mainly it's annoying and a pain in the ass, er, back. [Ahhh, the intentional 'er'. Propper-up of old chestnuts!] My other project, which may never emerge from it's gestation sack due to the absence of a video camera, is dun-da-daaa.... to make a video! About.... something!! I figure it's been several years since my grade 7 masterwork in neo-dada confusionism, replete with dream sequences, stomping football players, and yours truly as the young-voiced narrator. I need the balls of that young me! Not literally, obviously, but the chutzpah, the drive, the disregard.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Communist Japan!
Last night I heard the klok-klok of the gas man as I hung my laundry in the warming air. He is the volunteer who walks through the neighbourhood after the sun has fallen, striking a pair of hollow wooden blocks together, reminding the people tucked away in their sony filled apartments that they have to turn off the gas. If the gas is left on and there's a small earthquake, the gas pipe may crack, or the hose may come loose, and then gas will flow into the house, either poisoning or exploding. To prevent this the Japanese have invented a new position in society which is the night-walker gas man. This is the benefit of having over 90% of houses outfitted with the same heating system, and having a society that responds well to tradition and office. A few of the foreign teachers here have taken to calling Japan the world's only communist-capitalist society. Oddly enough, it seems to have more of a communist esprit than the more obvious example of communist-capitalism, the giant Middle Kingdom across the straits of Japan.
The examples of the Japanese communist esprit are many. Perhaps more accurately I should say it's a group orientation and sense of responsibility that tempers the individualism of capitalism. The school is rife with them. At cleaning time, all the students go out into the hallways and sweep up, and use sticky-rollers to pull dust up from the carpets. They wash the concrete passages outside, and wipe the floors and desks with rags. That's the ideal version. Mostly they just talk, but they are all out there with cleaning implements. The teachers go out too to provide a leadership example. There is something curious in the workplace as well, at least in the teaching workplace. Teachers who don't pull their weight are pulled along by the efforts of the other teachers. Instead of being fired, these incompetents or lazy people can rely on their peers to carry them for years, even till retirement if they fulfill their group obligations. This also has a very dark side when conflicts arise between teachers and students.
I don't think this is an example of communalism, but strange nonetheless: construction workers all wear bright overalls in a single colour, which are usually immaculate. I've passed by a house construction site to see a group of four immaculate workers on the second floor of a plywood support structure, standing and having a meeting. Their arms move with robotic precision as they gesture, not at all like the movements of Canadian construction workers I have known. I get the feeling the meeting has been going on for a while - the workers seem committed to their poses. I've seen workers disposing of garbage stacked neatly and by type, not throwing it but carrying it to the receptacle. The garbage site looked clean!
The examples of the Japanese communist esprit are many. Perhaps more accurately I should say it's a group orientation and sense of responsibility that tempers the individualism of capitalism. The school is rife with them. At cleaning time, all the students go out into the hallways and sweep up, and use sticky-rollers to pull dust up from the carpets. They wash the concrete passages outside, and wipe the floors and desks with rags. That's the ideal version. Mostly they just talk, but they are all out there with cleaning implements. The teachers go out too to provide a leadership example. There is something curious in the workplace as well, at least in the teaching workplace. Teachers who don't pull their weight are pulled along by the efforts of the other teachers. Instead of being fired, these incompetents or lazy people can rely on their peers to carry them for years, even till retirement if they fulfill their group obligations. This also has a very dark side when conflicts arise between teachers and students.
I don't think this is an example of communalism, but strange nonetheless: construction workers all wear bright overalls in a single colour, which are usually immaculate. I've passed by a house construction site to see a group of four immaculate workers on the second floor of a plywood support structure, standing and having a meeting. Their arms move with robotic precision as they gesture, not at all like the movements of Canadian construction workers I have known. I get the feeling the meeting has been going on for a while - the workers seem committed to their poses. I've seen workers disposing of garbage stacked neatly and by type, not throwing it but carrying it to the receptacle. The garbage site looked clean!
Monday, March 07, 2005
Read "Cloud Atlas"
Today I mainly read Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. I took it to my four classes and read it during the stretches of inanity, inanity for me at least, when the Japanese teacher was teaching and I would normaly be hum-drumming. It's a novel with multiple personalities that switches after a good satisfying chunk, and I think the writer wrote it this way to avoid getting bored. I think Mitchell stitched together several disparate strands that he'd written ex-post-facto, which is something that I plan on doing with my ramblings, if they should ever acquire that critical mass that would pull them together thematically.
It begins with a colonial sea-traveller's tale, then moves eras and genres. It blends narrative frames so that earlier chapters are read by characters in later chapters as books. There are cross-referenced character names, and a McGuffen that I won't spoil.
Late in the afternoon I fell asleep with my head propped up by my arm, book in front of me. The teachers' room was empty except for Nick, a secretary and me, with everyone else at a meeting. My matronly, kindly neighbour is cooling to me as I come ever late in the morning. If only she knew how difficult it is for me to feel any connection to the workplace. I'm investigating jobs in London tonight.
It begins with a colonial sea-traveller's tale, then moves eras and genres. It blends narrative frames so that earlier chapters are read by characters in later chapters as books. There are cross-referenced character names, and a McGuffen that I won't spoil.
Late in the afternoon I fell asleep with my head propped up by my arm, book in front of me. The teachers' room was empty except for Nick, a secretary and me, with everyone else at a meeting. My matronly, kindly neighbour is cooling to me as I come ever late in the morning. If only she knew how difficult it is for me to feel any connection to the workplace. I'm investigating jobs in London tonight.
A brand new world... (morning entry)
New post time! That means I have four minutes to write a post and then get out of my apartment. In the news today Elvis has married Kareem Abdul Jabar, and their genetically engineered children will be kung-fu stars of the future. Both giants of popularity were unearthed from their graves and reconstituted using bacteria that was found beneath the toes of the worlds oldest animal: the drosophila methusela, a fruit fly that lives to be a thousand years old and has toes. More to come later.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Veronica and Mike and Food and Movie
Veronica and Mike are over at my house. We watched "My Own Private Idaho" which has River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves as young male prostitutes in Idaho and Portland. They go to Rome in search of someone's mother and quote shakespearean non-shakespeare that's really amusing. Mike didn't like it. We almost watched "The Manchurian Candidate" which would have been a Mike-Anthony pleaser. Instead we watched a Veronica-Anthony pleaser. I guess I'm easy to please in the movie department.
Veronica was sent on a mission to take pictures of Mike and I and herself. We shall see what turned out. And then it will be posted.
We are being silly and I am being slightly drunkennated.
Veronica is sleepy. Maybe a little confused too...
Mike and I MSN even while in the same apartment.
Mike looking coolio and up
The Canadian couple! This is the state of my bedroom adornment...
Veronica was sent on a mission to take pictures of Mike and I and herself. We shall see what turned out. And then it will be posted.
We are being silly and I am being slightly drunkennated.
Veronica is sleepy. Maybe a little confused too...
Mike and I MSN even while in the same apartment.
Mike looking coolio and up
The Canadian couple! This is the state of my bedroom adornment...
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Scurrilous Sam
I wish I had a pet squirrel named Sam who could talk. He would often be coarse and vulgar, and I'd call him Scurrilous Sam, and we'd tour the country (not this one, that one over there with the English) going from nightclub to nightclub, spreading joy.
This post is for two people: one who is named dan and the other who got bored of the previous post.
Today I looked into grad schools in London on Claire's recommendation. Apparently I got too discouraged by her initial description of LSE. She thinks I'd get more out of it than she did (nevermind that she got the highest mark you could possibly get!). The good thing about England is I've always wanted to live there and I think the schools are cheaper than American schools. The bad thing is it's rainy and there are too many English people.
Also I went to the doctor today. I was feeling sharp shooting pains in my left lung, that emanated from the centre and went through my torso and arms. Alarmed, I corresponded with Veronica, who told me to go to the doctor. Already leaning in this direction, I was galvanized and took off for my school and translation services to be supplied by my lovely tantosha. Small spat ensued (of course) and then we were on our way. The doctors (a husband-wife team in a tiny clinic) were friendly and spoke English. Also she gave birth to her son in Toronto, of all things. Mr. Doctor told me I had a benign neuralgia, and not to worry. That just means it's some random nerve pain that is insignificant. Or is it perhaps over-laden with signification? It's just such a relief to be able to see an English-speaking doctor. I had saved up many medical questions and I think I overwhelmed them a little, but they were very gracious and even gave me some compresses for my shoulder which has been painful of late. I hope to go back soon!
On the Claire visit tip, she's gone. I'm sad, and was ever so glad that she came and visited. Yesterday she insisted on going through the sketchy part of Osaka that alternated strip clubs with pricy good restaurants, but I'm glad she did because I would have taken us to a mall and how lame a last Japanese meal would that have been. Instead our Japanese meal was Korean, and bulgogi, which is their version of yakiniku. I think Claire has now tried every food that Japan has to offer. She really did have a foodish trip, and I'm inspired to do the same next time I travel to a weird place. Japan is definitely a weird place. At the Korean joint there was a matronly matron who helpfully helped us cook our meal. We didn't know what the hell we were doing with the lettuce leaves and the grill and meat, but she did it for us, hovering over us. There were garlic chunks and miso paste and cabbage salad and those go on the meat, and it is wrapped in a lettuce leaf. Then you eat it in one or two bites and it's delicious!
This post is for two people: one who is named dan and the other who got bored of the previous post.
Today I looked into grad schools in London on Claire's recommendation. Apparently I got too discouraged by her initial description of LSE. She thinks I'd get more out of it than she did (nevermind that she got the highest mark you could possibly get!). The good thing about England is I've always wanted to live there and I think the schools are cheaper than American schools. The bad thing is it's rainy and there are too many English people.
Also I went to the doctor today. I was feeling sharp shooting pains in my left lung, that emanated from the centre and went through my torso and arms. Alarmed, I corresponded with Veronica, who told me to go to the doctor. Already leaning in this direction, I was galvanized and took off for my school and translation services to be supplied by my lovely tantosha. Small spat ensued (of course) and then we were on our way. The doctors (a husband-wife team in a tiny clinic) were friendly and spoke English. Also she gave birth to her son in Toronto, of all things. Mr. Doctor told me I had a benign neuralgia, and not to worry. That just means it's some random nerve pain that is insignificant. Or is it perhaps over-laden with signification? It's just such a relief to be able to see an English-speaking doctor. I had saved up many medical questions and I think I overwhelmed them a little, but they were very gracious and even gave me some compresses for my shoulder which has been painful of late. I hope to go back soon!
On the Claire visit tip, she's gone. I'm sad, and was ever so glad that she came and visited. Yesterday she insisted on going through the sketchy part of Osaka that alternated strip clubs with pricy good restaurants, but I'm glad she did because I would have taken us to a mall and how lame a last Japanese meal would that have been. Instead our Japanese meal was Korean, and bulgogi, which is their version of yakiniku. I think Claire has now tried every food that Japan has to offer. She really did have a foodish trip, and I'm inspired to do the same next time I travel to a weird place. Japan is definitely a weird place. At the Korean joint there was a matronly matron who helpfully helped us cook our meal. We didn't know what the hell we were doing with the lettuce leaves and the grill and meat, but she did it for us, hovering over us. There were garlic chunks and miso paste and cabbage salad and those go on the meat, and it is wrapped in a lettuce leaf. Then you eat it in one or two bites and it's delicious!
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Hairy head of hair
Normal life is resuming and let me tell you, it sucks to be at Nishi Chu. Sort of. Mainly it's so boring I could eat a live squirrel. Today was especially boring, I think because I had such a good time in Kyoto with Claire and she told me about London, which sounds mainly fun. Ironically she hates her job too. Nevertheless, it was a reminder of good times outside Japan and it was just so good to see her that I guess I realized how much I miss home.
Dan has a blog too, and it's a million times cooler than this one. He writes about books he's reading. Funny that it's attached to his family's auction house website.
I got a haircut today and played the game of "I'll nod my head and say 'okay' in frustration while you (the hairdresser) tell me what you're about to do to me. And I don't understand a word you're saying." It's amazing how a little thing like a haircut can drive home the point that I am next to retarded in this country. It's no wonder that practically every Japanese person studiously avoids and shuns foreigners. We can't speak! I think this feeling I'm experiencing is called "culture shock", and yes it can occur six months into a stay in Japan. I know because they showed us a nice graph of our future mental stability during orientation in Tokyo, and it took a dive after six months. Welcome to crazyville. Population: root two.
I'm tempted to put up a picture of myself with my new head of hair, but I realize that would be too many pictures of me on the blog. I guess I just love showing everyone my picture. Look, it's me. The hairdresser really wanted to give me spiky hair. He asked three times if I wanted it and I told him no each time. He kept showing me pictures of Japanese guys with weird feathery hair and saying {I have no idea what he said} as if I wanted to have a weird Japanese haircut. I saw a picture of Colin Farrell and indicated that. Yes! A good-looking white person. That's who I want to look like. People inevitably choose a good-looking model, even if the model's hair and the person's hair are completely different. I actually considered indicating a bald photo J Timberlake before I came to my senses.
Dan has a blog too, and it's a million times cooler than this one. He writes about books he's reading. Funny that it's attached to his family's auction house website.
I got a haircut today and played the game of "I'll nod my head and say 'okay' in frustration while you (the hairdresser) tell me what you're about to do to me. And I don't understand a word you're saying." It's amazing how a little thing like a haircut can drive home the point that I am next to retarded in this country. It's no wonder that practically every Japanese person studiously avoids and shuns foreigners. We can't speak! I think this feeling I'm experiencing is called "culture shock", and yes it can occur six months into a stay in Japan. I know because they showed us a nice graph of our future mental stability during orientation in Tokyo, and it took a dive after six months. Welcome to crazyville. Population: root two.
I'm tempted to put up a picture of myself with my new head of hair, but I realize that would be too many pictures of me on the blog. I guess I just love showing everyone my picture. Look, it's me. The hairdresser really wanted to give me spiky hair. He asked three times if I wanted it and I told him no each time. He kept showing me pictures of Japanese guys with weird feathery hair and saying {I have no idea what he said} as if I wanted to have a weird Japanese haircut. I saw a picture of Colin Farrell and indicated that. Yes! A good-looking white person. That's who I want to look like. People inevitably choose a good-looking model, even if the model's hair and the person's hair are completely different. I actually considered indicating a bald photo J Timberlake before I came to my senses.
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