Japanese Immigrants in the Philippines in WW2

“Pearl Harbor
A POINT OF AWARENESS – Preciosa S. Soliven (The Philippine Star) – January 5, 2017 – 12:00am
In solemn silence US President Barack Obama and Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe laid commemorative wreaths at the USS Arizona Memorial, built over the remains of the sunken battleship USS Arizona, on December 27, 2016. This symbolic gesture honored the lives of the 2,400 men and women who died during the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese forces in 1941. It has been 75 years but the pain and horror witnessed by those who survived remains unforgotten.

A day of infamy
The sneak attack on Pearl Harbor lasted four hours in the morning of Dec. 7, 1941. The unrelenting firepower pounded the US fleet moored there, but according to the memoirs of Commodore Ramon Alcaraz: “There was no attempt by the Japanese to land troops on Hawaii and seize control of that US territory. On the other hand, the enemy air attack on the Philippines the day of Dec. 8, proved decisive.”

“…Quickly, the enemy gained air supremacy over the Philippines and in five months, the country was overrun by Japanese forces.”

Japanese officers disguised as store keepers, gardeners or drivers
In 1934, Major General Frank Parker, then the commander in the Philippines, reported to Washington that Japanese immigrants continued to grow at an alarming rate. Most of them were men of military age – holding reserve commission in the Nipponese Army. The War Department shrugged. The newcomers lived quietly and were industrious people, working as storekeepers, photographers or servants.”

Only they weren’t really servants and shopkeepers, at least not all of them. This is a slice of WW2 I wasn’t ever told, and probably you weren’t, either.

Read the rest.

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Personal Space

What I noticed first off all about myself here in the PHilipppines is that I am clumsy and totally unaware of my surroundings, which means I bump into people and things and knock things over a lot.  It has gotten better because, I think, I spend more time on foot and less time in a vehicle, and more time in crowds than I used to.  You don’t need much awareness of where people are around you when you isolate yourself in private vehicles and personal bubbles a mile wide, and you have wide streets and clear sidewalks that nobody actually even uses.

On the other hand, it’s not that nobody ever bumps into anybody else here.  A teacher friend pointed out that for her, it’s automatic that you blurt out ‘excuse me’ or ‘I’m sorry,’ if you brush up against somebody else at all in public space.  And Filipinos don’t do that- not because they have no manners, but because it’s not bad manners to touch somebody accidentally in a crowd.  An apology is probably only warranted if you bump hard enough to really move them, or knock something over or step on somebody.  Just entering personal space, even to the point of touching, is not worth remarking on.

“Of course not,” laughs the Filipino friend listening to our conversation, “What on earth is personal space?  It’s not even a real thing.”

He knows what it is, of course, he is an astute observer of cross cultural interactions.

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Digital Cocaine

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Normalized Sin

You can now be banned on Twitter for using biologically correct pronouns and failing to participate in legitimizing mental illness.

Believing all women- 3 women have come forward and accused scientist Neil DeGrasse Tyson of sexual misconduct, one accusation quite grievous.

I’m willing to wait and see what turns up, but one aspect of his own explanation is just a little bit bizarre.  A woman accuses him of groping under her dress without her consent, and he explains he was merely looking to see if the planet Pluto was included on a tattoo of the solar system she had running up her arm, so it  “was simply a search under the covered part of her shoulder of the sleeveless dress.”  You know another way he could have found out if Pluto was included on a tattoo on a total stranger’s arm?  Asking.  Just asking.    Do I care that much? If he raped the woman, I do care. I want to know. I want him punished if it happened. The rape accusation (from his college days) should be handled as a crime, which would begin by the victim properly reporting it and then an investigation. Until then, I don’t have enough information to have an opinion other than there isn’t enough information.

Meanwhile, I mostly I am amused by all those on the left rediscovering the principles of innocent until proven guilty and lamenting what the Me-Too movement has become and how these types of not really assault accusations are going to harm real victims.  You don’t say.

But also, it’s still kinda creepy that he didn’t think he needed to ask a woman before moving her sleeve and poking his fingers on the tattoo on her shoulder under her dress and we should all just understand he just gets excited over cosmic bling but he’s sorry she was bothered and he wants us to know he only just now heard about it 9 years later, as though the action of slipping his fingers under her dress to slide her sleeveless dress around enough that he could see and touch a possible tattoo of Pluto is otherwise perfect normal thing to do to a stranger.  There’s a lot of subtle ‘but the woman’ digs in his apologies and defenses, but whatever. Me Too has been weaponized by the left and it won’t stop until their weapon misfires in their hands, so maybe this will be that moment.

What?  No, I don’t believe it, either.

Moving on, we all know Hollywood is a sordid, dirty little place behind the scenes. They knew it even better than we did, which is the real reason child rapist Roman Polanski has been supported and defended for decades, and it’s the real reason the pornographic filming of the onscreen assault of a teenaged actress by Marlon Brando in Last Tango in Paris were acclaimed as great art.  The actress had made public the fact that she was not told in advance details of the scene and that she felt humiliated and raped by the director- Bertolucci- and Brando.  But nobody paid much attention to that until ten years later when the Bertolucci said the same thing and justified it because ‘he needed to be free’ to pursue his creative dream, and “because he wanted her onscreen humiliation and rage to be real. “I wanted Maria to feel, not to act,” he said.”

Read this  while keeping in mind that these people have spent decades deliberately transforming our culture, normalizing what should have been appalling and disturbing, and we have flocked to their products for more (here’s an excerpt):

“Phillips says Les Moonves, then the head of Warner Bros. television just as its shows Friends and ER were becoming blockbusters, grabbed her and forced her to perform oral sex when she met with him to seek an appointment with a casting director. She fled the office. Then she had to decide whether to say something, which would brand her a “troublemaker.” If so, nothing good would happen. She’d be ushered out to pursue the career opportunities at Denny’s, and another young honey would take her place.

“Nobody knows anything” was the Hollywood mantra popularized by the late screenwriter William Goldman. Yet in a town that does nothing more assiduously than it does gossip, we’re expected to believe nobody knew anything about what was happening in Les Moonves’s office, and in Harvey Weinstein’s, and in Bryan Singer’s? It beggars belief. They knew. They all knew. The men knew. The women knew. The potted plants certainly knew. Nobody said anything. They didn’t want to jeopardize their next gig. “Nobody says anything” is more like it. It’s show-merta. “Hollywood mafia” isn’t a joke anymore: These acts alleged by so many actresses are crimes. This was a systematic criminal enterprise in which untold numbers of people either abetted felonies or did not report them, with money clawed away from publicly traded corporations repeatedly used to buy silence.

When you see a lot of movies and TV shows, you do a lot of wondering about what happened behind the scenes. Why did that actress get so many parts? Why did this one rise so quickly? Why did that one disappear? Wasn’t that nude scene gratuitous? Put on the magical sunglasses and you see the ugliness.”

Read the rest.

There’s also Open Secrets, a documentary exposing the culture of pedophilia in Hollywood.  Speaking of normalizing:  “This is not a terrible thing unless you think it is. It’s just something that happens to you in your life.”  Michael Harrah, founder and former chair of the SAG-AFTRA Young Performers Committee, speaking of sexual crimes against children in Hollywood.  Read more here.

Woe to us, who have called good evil good and good evil for so long, and normalized it in the pursuit of a fraudulent form of happiness and mere entertainment.

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Pomelo

We eat at least 3 of these every week, just my husband and I.

A Pomelo is a really huge citrus fruit, larger than a grapefruit.  It’s either an ancestor of or a type of grapefruit, depending on your source of info.  It’s much sweeter and tangier and more delicious than grapefruit.

The peel is green to greenish yellow. It is incredibly thick, many times thicker than an orange rind.  Once you remove the outer peel you also have to peel off the white inner rind. It’s much like paper in texture and flavour.  By the time you have removed these layers, the actual fruit you get is about half the volume you thought you started with.

The fruit in the center is worth it.  The type we get, the fruit is a jewel-toned pink, lovely to look at, even better to eat.  I’ve heard of yellow centers, but have never seen them.

I have found that often when my brain is sluggish and not functioning, eating pomelo makes me wake up and feel more alert.  I was looking up the fruit to see if there is a reason for that. I didn’t find one. It may just be that citrus makes me feel like that way.

It does have many of the same health benefits of grapefruit- vitamin C, potassium, fiber, and so on.  Allegedly it’s good for high blood pressure, which I don’t have, in fact, so effective that one site I found warned people with low blood pressure to be cautious about eating it.

I also saw many claims that it has anti-aging properties, which maybe explains why Asians look younger than westerners (plus the fact that they avoid the sun)

There’s a video of somebody peeling one here– pro-tip: turn off the sound, it’s irritating music and there’s no dialogue.

More health information here.

A delicious pomelo scallop recipe here.

I have had it in shakes, smoothies, and salads, and all of them were good. However, I really prefer to just eat it.

Tang makes a pomelo flavoured breakfast drink powder which is also delicious, but not nearly so healthy, of course.  Incidentally, we can also buy Tang in other flavours: Buko, Guyabano, Four Season, Pineapple, Mango, Strawberry, Calamansi, Dalandan, Apple Tea, occasionally Guava I think, and probably orange, but I haven’t noticed.  I like all of them except strawberry.  My husband prefers mango and pineaple.

The Tang comes in small foil packets with enough powder to make 1 litre.  Because we have to fit everything we want to take home in six suitcases of about 40 pounds each, our souvenir gifts for the 25 precious relatives at home are largely limited to these exotic packets of tang, keychains, erasers, and maybe some organic coffee grown and packaged by monks in the bukidnon (mountains).

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