  |
はてなキーワード: Didとは
でも、サンパウロのカーニバルで題材に選ばれたり、ブラジル大使館が侍だと言い切ったりするくらい、
駐日ブラジル大使館 - Embaixada do Brasil em Tóquio
ブラジルのカーニバルに日本が参戦! 2023年のサンパウロのカーニバルでサンバチーム「モシダデ・アレグレ」がチャンピオンに選ばれました。同チームは、日本初の黒人侍弥助の物語を語りながらパレードを行いました。モザンビークで生まれた弥助は1579年に日本に連れて来られ英雄となりました。
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O Japão no Carnaval do Brasil! A escola de samba Mocidade Alegre foi escolhida campeã do carnaval de São Paulo 2023. A Escola desfilou contando a história de Yasuke, o primeiro samurai negro do Japão. Nascido em Moçambique, Yasuke foi trazido ao Japão em 1579 e tornou-se um herói. Você conhecia essa história?
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Japan in Brazil's Carnival! Samba group Mocidade Alegre was chosen the champion of the 2023's carnival in São Paulo. The group presented the story of Yasuke, the first black samurai in Japan. Born in Mozambique, Yasuke was brought to Japan in 1579 and became a hero. Did you know this story?
真田広之の『SHOGUN 将軍』で、なぜ黒人が居ないのか？とボヤる程度、英語のコミュニティできゃっきゃやってる界隈がある程度には知名度あるようです。
なので、黒人侍の存在を史実として認めないと、人種差別者扱いされます。そもそも、それを積極肯定している日本の大学教授もいます。(そして、英語圏のメディアに引用されてる)
(日本の学者や研究者を名乗る人がYASUKE肯定した結果、それを根拠にして、日本の人種差別主義者ガーとか英語コミュニティでコメントが付いてる一例 ↓)
However, a recent, widely shared post from Japanese historian Yu Hirayama argues that Yasuke was indeed granted samurai status by Nobunaga. Hirayama cites Yasuke’s stipend, housing, and sword afforded him by Nobunaga, but acknowledges that Nobunaga’s enemies did not view Yasuke as a samurai.
(しかし、日本の歴史家である平山優氏による最近の広く共有された投稿では、弥助が実際に信長から侍の地位を与えられたと主張しています。平山氏は、信長が弥助に与えた俸禄、住居、そして刀を根拠として挙げていますが、信長の敵対者たちが弥助を侍とみなしていなかったことも認めています)
↓ 対するコメント
racist in Japan and racist in the rest of the world get to work hand-in-hand now
(日本のレイシストと世界のレイシストは、今、手を取り合って働く)
https://www.polygon.com/24204308/assassins-creed-shadows-yasuke-samurai-ubisoft-controversy
While there’s some question as to his exact role, Yasuke was a real person and, as a Japanese scholar has recently pointed out, there’s no doubt that he was a samurai, which is a social status that can encompass a variety of duties.
(弥助は実在の人物であり、日本のある学者が最近指摘したように、彼が武士であったことは間違いない。)
https://metro.co.uk/2024/07/23/ubisoft-apologies-assassins-creed-shadows-doesnt-say-21281545/
しかも、その影響範囲は大きく、ご先祖様が武器を持ったことがあればみんな武士(侍)の子孫だし、新しい武士(侍)の定義を知らなければ、日本人は人種差別者と誹りを受ける。
羽振りのいいヘッジファンドくらいの高給を払わず、やりたい人の情熱と能力と使命感と倫理観だけに全てお任せしてしまった日本国民の自業自得なんでしょうかね？
（ゆうて、現状もだいたいの日常の困難は消えるレベルの高給は払ってるんですけどね・・・)
なので、肌の色が濃いキャラクターや、顔立ちの異なるキャラクターが登場する現代劇やフィクションの時代劇はもっと増えてほしいです。
日本の学者や研究者を名乗る人がYASUKE肯定した結果、それを根拠にして、日本の人種差別主義者ガーとか英語コミュニティでコメント付いてる例
However, a recent, widely shared post from Japanese historian Yu Hirayama argues that Yasuke was indeed granted samurai status by Nobunaga. Hirayama cites Yasuke’s stipend, housing, and sword afforded him by Nobunaga, but acknowledges that Nobunaga’s enemies did not view Yasuke as a samurai.
(しかし、日本の歴史家である平山優氏による最近の広く共有された投稿では、弥助が実際に信長から侍の地位を与えられたと主張しています。平山氏は、信長が弥助に与えた俸禄、住居、そして刀を根拠として挙げていますが、信長の敵対者たちが弥助を侍とみなしていなかったことも認めています)
↓ 対するコメント
racist in Japan and racist in the rest of the world get to work hand-in-hand now
(日本のレイシストと世界のレイシストは、今、手を取り合って働く)
https://www.polygon.com/24204308/assassins-creed-shadows-yasuke-samurai-ubisoft-controversy
While there’s some question as to his exact role, Yasuke was a real person and, as a Japanese scholar has recently pointed out, there’s no doubt that he was a samurai, which is a social status that can encompass a variety of duties.
(弥助は実在の人物であり、日本のある学者が最近指摘したように、彼が武士であったことは間違いない。)
https://metro.co.uk/2024/07/23/ubisoft-apologies-assassins-creed-shadows-doesnt-say-21281545/
この炎上の根本原因は、アジア人蔑視、アジア人の透明化、そして日本文化の軽視だろ
実際のところ、『アフロサムライ』や『キンバリー』、Netflixの『弥助』、『Rise of the Ronin』のような時代劇ゲーで主人公を黒人にできるオプションなどは、
だから、この問題を『主人公が黒人であること』だと逆張りでミスリードするのはやめろ
つか、増田はいつもの逆張りでも、ガチで『サムライの中には黒人もいたはずだ』『白人によって歴史が消された』『もしかしたら日本にもいたかもしれない』と
信じてる人たちもいるわけ。それは長年にわたり、一部の人々の間で下記の言葉が信じられて来たからだ
For a Samurai to be brave, he must have a bit of black blood
この言葉や歴史観は、子ども向けのウェブサイトや書籍、教師向けの資料にも掲載されてたりする
これは、一部の人が司馬遼太郎の作品を事実として信じているのと似た現象なんだけど、アメリカの黒人公民権運動で利用されてきたっていう歴史がある
そのため、本心で下記みたいになる人もいる
Where Are The Black People in 'Shogun'?
このような人々のさらなる誤解をさらに深めるような無意味な逆張りはやめろ
anond:20240724130753 anond:20240724183209 anond:20240724193537 anond:20240724215021 anond:20240724215021
anond:20240724211603 anond:20240726211114
追記があったので。キミがnoteで逆張りをおやんなさいanond:20240726185220
When did I turn to be your family? I’ve not been your family or friend or any relatives. So I guess ppl who stalks me would be unexpectedly idiot. Isn’t it?
いやUBI(アサクリ)はUBIで普通に問題なんで。そもそも、下記についてなにも説明もないよ？
なので、日本で販売しない or 日本語版出なかったら フツーに弥助問題は勝利条件クリアじゃない？テッテテレーー🎉
(もっとも元から日本でさほど売れてるタイトルじゃないので、日本以外で売れるならUBI赤字にはならないだろうけど)
ただ、アジア人蔑視それに付随する日本の歴史改竄は一朝一夕にはどうにもできないのでは？
(水俣病やコロナやJAXAの時のよう。いつもの日本の風景。これで子どもたちが学者に憧れるとかあるわけないでしょ)
日本の学者や研究者を名乗る人がYASUKE肯定した結果、それを根拠にして、日本の人種差別主義者ガーとか英語コミュニティでコメント付いてんね。当然だわな
一例
However, a recent, widely shared post from Japanese historian Yu Hirayama argues that Yasuke was indeed granted samurai status by Nobunaga. Hirayama cites Yasuke’s stipend, housing, and sword afforded him by Nobunaga, but acknowledges that Nobunaga’s enemies did not view Yasuke as a samurai.
(しかし、日本の歴史家である平山優氏による最近の広く共有された投稿では、弥助が実際に信長から侍の地位を与えられたと主張しています。平山氏は、信長が弥助に与えた俸禄、住居、そして刀を根拠として挙げていますが、信長の敵対者たちが弥助を侍とみなしていなかったことも認めています)
↓ 対するコメント
racist in Japan and racist in the rest of the world get to work hand-in-hand now
(日本のレイシストと世界のレイシストは、今、手を取り合って働く)
https://www.polygon.com/24204308/assassins-creed-shadows-yasuke-samurai-ubisoft-controversy
While there’s some question as to his exact role, Yasuke was a real person and, as a Japanese scholar has recently pointed out, there’s no doubt that he was a samurai, which is a social status that can encompass a variety of duties.
(弥助は実在の人物であり、日本のある学者が最近指摘したように、彼が武士であったことは間違いない。)
https://metro.co.uk/2024/07/23/ubisoft-apologies-assassins-creed-shadows-doesnt-say-21281545/
あと、基本的に英語圏・英語コメントでもUBI否定の反応が多いけど、アサクリ シャドウズ騒いでるのに関わりたくないから黙っているだけで、
実は買う気満々の欧米人それなりにいたりしそう
アジアにゆかりがある人をのぞいたら、アサクリ シャドウズ の関連問題に関心がない・気にしてないって人が多くても別に驚かないなぁ
一例として、フランスの某元ゲームマネージャーとか、『騒ぐ奴は人種差別主義者』だとか『日本人が黒人以外に置き換えられたら騒がない』とかやってるしな😑
https://x.com/gyojvfr/status/1815799450046194020?s=61
ゲームメディア以外でも取り上げられる機会がもっと増えたら、日本の歴史改竄に関する風向きは、お気持ち程度になら変わるかもね
でもまぁ基本的に歴史改竄は、アジア人蔑視と日本軽視が根本の問題だから、解決には長い長い時間が掛かる（同じアジアでも中国に対してなら、たぶんUBIはやらなかった)
anond:20240724041000 anond:20240723184517
ま～た日本語すら検索すら検索しない人による謎の主張が出ているので、コピペしとくね
https://www.quora.com/Why-do-Afro-centrists-claim-that-the-first-samurai-warrior-was-a-black-African
一例：
7mo
The original answer and your comment are both wrong. It is very easy to prove Yasuke was a samurai, you just have to check a Japanese dictionary. I searched for 侍・士 (samurai) on the Japanese online encyclopedia コトバンク (Kotobank), which produced a result from 精選版 日本国語大辞典 (Carefully Selected Edition of the Nihon Kokugo Daijiten, aka Shogakukan’s Japanese Dictionary). I’ll post the link at the bottom, but here is the relevant section in Japanese and my translation in English.
(3)鎌倉幕府では、侍は僕従を有し、騎上の資格ある武士で、郎従等の凡下と厳重に区別する身分規定が行なわれた。しかし、鎌倉中期以降、その範囲が次第に拡大、戦国時代以降は、諸国の大名の家臣をも広く侍と称するようになり、武士一般の称として用いられるようになる。
(3) In the Kamakura Shogunate (1185 - 1333 AD), samurai were professional warriors who had servants and were qualified to ride on horseback, and their status was strictly differentiated from ordinary subordinates such as roju. However, from the middle of the Kamakura Shogunate onwards, its scope gradually expanded, and from the Sengoku Period (1467 - 1615 AD) onwards, vassals of feudal lords in various provinces came to be widely referred to as samurai, and it came to be used as a general term for professional warriors.
Now we have to ask three questions to see whether Yasuke met this definition:
Q: When did Yasuke work for the feudal lord Oda Nobunaga?
A: From April 1581 to June 1582. We know this from multiple eyewitness accounts, which I also mention below.
Q: Was Yasuke a vassal of Oda Nobunaga?
A: Yes, as evidenced by the fact that he was given a stipend, a house, and a job as spear-bearer (a type of bodyguard for the leader of a samurai family). He was also given a short sword called a koshigatana, which was worn as a status symbol and weapon for self-defense at all times by high status samurai. This we know from the Chronicle of Lord Nobunaga, written by Oda Nobunaga’s vassal Ota Gyuichi.
Q: Was Yasuke a warrior fighting for Oda Nobunaga?
A: Yes, as evidenced by the fact that he fought in three important conflicts. One, Yasuke fought in the Second Tensho Iga War in September 1581. This we can infer because the Jesuits said Oda Nobunaga took Yasuke everywhere with him and he led his own troops into this war. Two, Yasuke fought in the Koshu Conquest from February to March 1582. This we know from the Diary of Ietada, written by Matsudaira Ietada, a vassal of Tokugawa Ieyasu, who was himself a vassal of Oda Nobunaga. Three, Yasuke fought in the Honno-ji Incident of June 1582, in which he tried but failed to save the lives of both Oda Nobunaga and his son Oda Nobutada until Yasuke was the last Oda man standing and surrendered to the traitor Akechi Mitsuhide, who spared his life and returned him to the Jesuits. This we know from letters written by the Jesuits, who were glad to have Yasuke back. According to the Oda family today, Nobunaga’s final order was for Yasuke to help him commit seppuku (ritual suicide by stomach cutting) by decapitating him and bring his head to a courier that returned it to the Oda family, so it could not be used as evidence of victory by Akechi Mitsuhide.
So there you have it. Yasuke was a vassal and a warrior for the most powerful feudal lord in all of Japan, during the Sengoku Period. He even assisted his lord’s suicide, a role strictly reserved for samurai. Therefore, he was a samurai. Below is a link to the definition of samurai on Kotobank.
"For a Samurai to be brave, he must have a bit of black blood "
日本人ならそんなことわざないこと誰でも知ってると思うんですけど、当然アサクリ関係ないサイトで見ることになる
https://www.levelman.com/where-black-people-fx-shogun/
リンク貼れないけど下記とか
ちな、悪気なさそうな教師向けサイト・子ども向けサイトでも、YASUKEサイキョーは見ますよ
というか、そもそもUBIがインタビュー動画の中で日系人っぽいアジアンの監修スタッフに『YASUKEは日本で広く受け入れらている』とか言わせてますし
・望まない妊娠をした場合(特に南部は中絶が厳しいのもあるので)
・継続的な望まない夫婦間レイプで離婚調停中や離婚後に、スマホのカメラなどの証拠をもとに訴える場合です。
・DVや暴言で離婚する場合も、証拠が取れれば夫婦間レイプも証拠にするのでは？と思います。
日本での性的被害全体の申告率(注:検挙率ではない)は法務省統計では14%ほどですが
日本経済新聞
https://www.nikkei.com/article/DGXMZO52756330Z21C19A1CR0000/
“東京都が大規模なアンケート調査を行ったところ、女性の４５％、男性の９％が痴漢の被害にあったことがあると回答した”(NHK)
とあります。
https://www3.nhk.or.jp/shutoken-news/20240224/1000102301.html
また英語版ウィキペディアの“Rape”(レイプ)のページでは日本の強姦の暗数の多さが指摘されています。
In 2024, the University of Cambridge did a study on Rape in Japan. They found that while Japanese police claim to solve 97 percent of rape cases. Only 5–10 percent of rape victims report it to police, and police record less than half of reported cases while prosecutors charge about one-third of recorded cases. Also for every 1000 rapes in Japan, only 10–20 (1–2%) result in the offender being charged and convicted.
［翻訳］2024年、ケンブリッジ大学は日本における強姦に関する調査を行った。その結果、日本の警察は強姦事件の97％を解決していると主張しているが、強姦被害者のわずか5～10％しか警察に通報しておらず、警察が記録するのは通報された事件の半分以下であるのに対し、検察は記録された事件の約3分の1を起訴している。また、日本では1000件の強姦のうち、犯人が起訴され有罪判決を受けるのはわずか10～20件（1～2％）に過ぎないことが判明した。
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape
これらを見ると欧米諸国での性犯罪率が日本よりはるかに高い…と言い切れるのか？
と疑問に感じています。
私自身は欧米諸国が性犯罪の点において日本より素晴らしいとここで発信したい訳ではありませんが、欧米諸国はどの国も性犯罪に関しては危ない国だと考えに繋がりかねず(国によってもかなり10倍とか数にバラつきがある)
It's sudden, but right now in Japan, creativity is facing a true crisis. Characters like Uzaki-chan, Onsen Musume, and Tojo Rika are being targeted and flamed, game character designs are being infiltrated by political correctness, Johnny's Entertainment is being dismantled, swimsuit photo sessions in parks are being canceled, Hitoshi Matsumoto is being publicly shamed, and the new AV law was enacted without considering the opinions of those directly involved. Every form of expression in every venue is currently under unreasonable pressure.
How does this connect to the Tokyo gubernatorial election? In fact, a major event directly linked to this is occurring in the 2024 Tokyo gubernatorial election. As a creator, I hope this message reaches you.
What I am about to share is a story about someone named Himasora Akane, who you should know about to resist such pressures. But before I dive into that story, I want to express my deep gratitude to my old friend Nozomi for giving me the opportunity to post this article in a place where many creators will see it. As someone who also loves manga, anime, and games, I hope this information will benefit Japanese society and support Nozomi's activities.
Himasora Akane Should Be the Governor of Tokyo
First, I would like to make a straightforward request to you as a creator: please support Himasora Akane for governor. In this election, please write "Himasora Akane" on your ballot. The voting day is July 7th. Even if you are not a Tokyo resident, I ask that you at least listen to this story. If you find it interesting, please share it with your friends, family, and acquaintances. You can check Himasora Akane's campaign promises and the background of their candidacy on their Twitter (X) posts linked below:
Himasora Akane (Tokyo gubernatorial candidate)
https://x.com/himasoraakane/status/1804846779399324095
Himasora Akane Will Not Allow Our Culture to Be Burned
Himasora Akane is an ordinary otaku who loves manga, anime, and games. Known as "Cognitive Profiling Detective Akane Himasora," he has been active on Twitter (X) and YouTube, and now he is running for governor. Akane, who is deeply concerned about the repression and destruction of otaku culture, is challenging those who seek to destroy our culture alone. Akane will never allow those who try to burn our culture.
As mentioned at the beginning, all forms of expression are currently under pressure. Otaku culture, in particular, seems to be a prime target.
Uzaki-chan Blood Donation Poster Controversy (2019): A collaboration between the Japanese Red Cross Society and the manga Uzaki-chan was flamed for allegedly being overly sexual in its PR illustration.
V-Tuber Traffic Safety Video Controversy (2021): A V-Tuber hired by the Matsudo Police Department in Chiba Prefecture was deemed too sexual for public agency PR.
Onsen Musume Controversy (2021): Characters personifying local hot springs were criticized as sexist.
Mie Transport Official Character Controversy (2024): A character in a bus driver's uniform released by Mie Transport was flamed for evoking sexual images.
These controversies are often fueled by so-called political correctness and feminism. For creators, these are direct threats. If these factions label your work as sexual and demand it be burned to ashes, could you resist? How would you feel if your painstakingly created work, like your own child, was trampled by people who have no regard for your efforts? Could you continue your creative activities while constantly shrinking away?
Himasora Akane saw something behind these flaming incidents. He started investigating the key figure behind the Onsen Musume controversy, a representative of a general incorporated association in Tokyo. This association's core business, the Young Female Victims Support Project, received substantial public funds from Tokyo. Akane submitted public document disclosure requests to Tokyo and thoroughly dug into the organization. During his investigation, Akane uncovered many suspicions suggesting this project was unworthy of public funding, which he exposed one by one on social media.
Negligent accounting reports, taking protected girls to the Henoko base protest in Okinawa, Communist Party members waiting in the bus used to protect girls—these revelations drew significant attention online. The investigation extended beyond this general incorporated association to other NPOs receiving public funds, and Akane named this cluster of issues the "WBPC problem" after the initials of these organizations.
Akane's YouTube Channel (WBPC Problem Playlist)
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLI5gTciLKtAXRyzv9j5FiNMcc8eoEBbMN
From here, Akane's story expanded to resident audits, resident lawsuits, and national compensation lawsuits concerning the Tokyo Young Female Victims Support Project. Akane discovered that behind many flaming incidents, there is no clear command structure but a group of various political organizations and activists working together like an amoeba. He named this group the "Nanika Group" (Nanika means "something" in Japanese), a reference to the mysterious, ominous "something from another place" in the manga HUNTER×HUNTER, which Akane loves. The Nanika Group is also connected to welfare interests, where public funds flow unchecked. Akane called this phenomenon "Public Fund Chu-Chu" (siphoning).
For creators, this means the tax money they earn through hard work is used to burn their precious works. It's an intolerable situation.
Himasora Akane Is Fighting Against Those Who Burn Our Culture
In November 2022, a major event marked a turning point in this series of controversies. The general incorporated association under scrutiny held a press conference at the parliamentary office building, gathering media and announcing a lawsuit against Akane. This "Legal Harassment Press Conference," as it was called online, involved multiple layers of power: the government, the media, and a team of seven lawyers targeting a single individual.
However, Akane did not back down. Instead, he intensified his pursuit, exploiting the opponent's careless statements as lawsuit fodder. This led to an outpouring of support on social media, with his Twitter follower count skyrocketing and 160 million yen in donations for legal fees.
The following year, a resident audit request filed by Akane resulted in Tokyo's official website recognizing some improper points and deciding to audit the organization. However, Tokyo's lenient audit led Akane to file a resident lawsuit. Suspicion also turned towards Governor Yuriko Koike for allocating public funds through dubious sole-source contracts. Tokyo began excessively redacting documents in response to public document requests, attempting to conceal the issue. Koike's promise to end document redaction quietly disappeared from her campaign page.
Throughout this battle, Akane has been a target of criminal complaints and faced threats, yet he persists. His book "Netoge Senshi" was released amid bookstore threats, but only the criminal complaint was widely reported by the media, portraying Akane negatively.
Himasora Akane is an ordinary otaku, a top-tier online gamer during his student days, and a talented game creator who worked for a major game company and later a venture company. His meticulous work on the game "Shin Goku no Valhalla Gate" was betrayed by the company's CEO, leading to a seven-year legal battle that Akane ultimately won, securing 600 million yen. This experience fuels his fierce opposition to having his creations burned.
Before investigating the Young Female Victims Support Project, Akane exposed fraudulent feminist "knights" on his YouTube channel, shaking the internet. He detests lies and has an uncanny ability to detect them.
Akane is a special individual with extraordinary abilities, honed through his experiences in games, court battles, and extensive document analysis. His pursuit of truth and justice makes him a suitable candidate for governor, promising a world without lies and where honest people do not suffer.
What We Can Do to Protect Our Culture
Creative expression can be crushed if we are not vigilant. Even in modern Japan, otaku culture is on thin ice. The recent cessation of Visa transactions for DMM (Fanza) is a reminder of how a single card company can wield its power to dictate what is deemed appropriate expression. Expression freedom is fragile and constantly under threat.
To those reading this, I urge you to vote for Himasora Akane. Support him to protect our culture. Despite his harsh demeanor and preference for solitary battles, he is now seeking help for the first time. Akane feels the danger in this gubernatorial election and believes that if he does not become governor, everything will end. He has taken a stand for the people of Tokyo and Japan.
I wrote this article to support his spirit and spread the word. Please vote for Himasora Akane and help create a miracle.
To you, the creator, I sincerely hope this message reaches you.
Mrs. GREEN APPLEの今後の為にも取り下げた方がいい動画だったよ。
ファンは本気であれを何も問題ないから英語字幕つけて海外に向けても拡散すべきと思ってるの？
日本人にとってもMrs. GREEN APPLEにとってもイメージダウンにしかならないよ。
Watch bunch of fucking Twitter and TikTok morons use this as a Gotcha moment, to be racist towards the Japanese. Fully ignoring the fact that they were forced to apologize for the shit they did by the Japanese themselves.
"I seen a Japanese band do something Racist so I'm gonna bring up Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and be racist to the entirety of Japan"
~ Random Twitter/TikTok morons probably ~
Twitter や TikTok の馬鹿野郎たちがこれをチャンスとして利用して、日本人に対して人種差別をしているのを見てください。日本人自身がしたたわごとに対して謝罪を強要されたという事実を完全に無視している。
「日本のバンドが人種差別的なことをしているのを見たので、広島と長崎のことを持ち出して日本全体に対して人種差別をするつもりです」
気になったので mrs green apple columbus videoでXを検索してみた。
さっさと燃え悪意がなかったと表明した後だからか、差別されているのが白人ではないからか、そこまで燃えてはいない。
海外では無名だからかワンピースや炎炎の消防隊がもらい事故してる。
Japanese music band Mrs. GREEN APPLE who did the opening, Inferno for Fire Force, has pulled their latest music video, "Columbus", after huge outrage for depicting themselves as explorers and the native people as monkeys.
The band has issued an apology stating that their intension was to depict these Historical figures having a "fun house party".
https://x.com/AniNewsAndFacts/status/1801564317902639251?t=6FJCAn3rIhYNSe8VS7oulg&s=19
オープニング曲『炎炎ノ消防隊』を担当した日本の音楽バンド、Mrs. GREEN APPLEは、自分たちを探検家、原住民を猿に見立てて描いたことに大きな怒りがあったため、最新ミュージックビデオ「コロンバス」を取り下げた。
Jpop band Mrs. Green Apple’s latest MV “Columbus” has been pulled just 1 day after release. The highly problematic video features the 3 band members dressed as Christopher Columbus colonizing apes
Can’t believe people thought this was a good idea…
https://x.com/Johnny_suputama/status/1801237032993218978?t=KYIHDLHAz0FTTvHLK050Bg&s=19
even as someone who cannot stand mrs green apple, making the music video for a song called "columbus" like this is astonishingly bad. this was aimed at a GLOBAL AUDIENCE. at least the MV is being wiped from history but why did no one question civilised explorers finding monkeys?!
https://x.com/poppinapathetic/status/1801159185180094966?t=N-qlc1B9Uf2_3JXPqapHrw&s=19
People saying conservatives were even shocked 🥴 this is one of the reasons why the Japanese market is so insular—they can get away with racist shit all the time and there’s no outside reaction bc of copyrights creating barriers for their artists content.
https://x.com/JIMINistrending/status/1801652146728817000?t=wlfWdmBdD6Ybz46fzikn4w&s=19
猿として描写されたと感じる人は怒っている様子
Japanese people depicting us as monkeys is crazy lol. Now if a Native band wanted to talk about them in the aftermath of Nagasaki and Hiroshima....nevermind. My people would never sink so low. 👎🏼
https://x.com/sneakinmohican/status/1801750066190823611?t=p8wvbwDTranEy786jywQog&s=19
｢日本人のバンドが人種差別的なことをしているのを見たので、広島と長崎を持ち出して日本人全体に人種差別的になるつもりだ｣
Watch bunch of fucking Twitter and TikTok morons use this as a Gotcha moment, to be racist towards the Japanese. Fully ignoring the fact that they were forced to apologize for the shit they did by the Japanese themselves.
"I seen a Japanese band do something Racist so I'm gonna bring up Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and be racist to the entirety of Japan"
~ Random Twitter/TikTok morons probably ~
https://x.com/JustsomeSpaceG1/status/1801755322752606350?t=QPFcnfErhISVE5bW4l4STg&s=19
Bob the First, at the head of my long list of robins, having been killed by my pet owl, I very soon bought another. This one was not so gentle nor so handsome as Bob the First, his wings and his tail having their ends sawed off by contact with the wires of too small a cage.
Fearing that he might be lonely in my aviary with only rabbits, guineapigs, pet rats, and pigeons for company, I bought another robin called Dick. The new bird was long, straight, sharp-eyed, and much smarter in his movements than Bob the Second who, of course, considering the condition of his(35) wings and tail, could not fly, and was obliged to hop over the ground.
It was very amusing to see the two robins stare at each other. Both had probably been trapped young, for at that time the law against the keeping of wild birds in captivity was not enforced, and boys and men were perniciously active in their depredations among our beautiful wild beauties.
Bob the Second was very fond of stuffing himself, and he used to drive the pigeons from the most promising window ledges and partake freely of the food scattered about.
Poor Dick ran about the ground looking for worms, and not finding many, got desperate and flew up to the window ledge.
Bob lowered his head and flew at him with open bill. Dick snapped at him, hopped up to the food, and satisfied his hunger, Bob meanwhile standing at a little distance, a queer, pained thread of sound issuing from between his bill, “Peep, peep, peep!”
A robin is a most untidy bird while eating, and as often as Dick scattered a morsel of food outside the dish, Bob would spring forward and pick it up with a reproving air, as if he were saying, “What an extravagant fellow you are!”
Whenever a new bird enters an aviary, he has to find his place—he is just like a new-comer in a community of human beings. Bob, being alone, was in the lead when Dick came. Dick, having the stronger bird mind, promptly dethroned him. They were(36) very amusing birds. Indeed, I find something clownish and comical about all robins kept in captivity.
The wild bird seems to be more businesslike. The partly domesticated bird, having no anxiety about his food supply, indulges in all sorts of pranks. He is curious and fond of investigation, and runs swiftly at a new object, and as swiftly away from it, if it seems formidable to him.
The arrival of new birds in the aviary always greatly excited Bob, and he hopped about, chirping, strutting, raising his head feathers, and sometimes acting silly with his food, just like a foolish child trying to “show off” before strangers.
When I introduced a purple gallinule to him, Bob flew up into the air, and uttered a shriek of despair. He feared the gallinule, and hated the first Brazil cardinal I possessed, and was always sparring with him. One day I put a second cardinal into the aviary. Bob thought it was his old enemy, and ran full tilt at him. His face of ludicrous dismay as he discovered his mistake and turned away, was too much for me, and I burst out laughing at him. I don’t think he minded being made fun of. He flirted his tail and hopped away.
At one time Bob made up his mind that he would not eat crushed hemp-seed unless I mixed it with bread and milk, and he would throw it all out of his dish unless I made it in the way he liked.
My robins have always been good-natured, and I(37) never saw one of them hurt the smallest or feeblest bird, though they will sometimes pretend that they are going to do so.
When Bob took a sun-bath, any member of the family who happened to be near him would always be convulsed with laughter. He would stretch his legs far apart, stick out his ragged plumage, elevate his head feathers till he looked as if he had a bonnet on, and then half shut his eyes with the most ludicrous expression of robin bliss.
All birds look more or less absurd when taking sun-baths. They seem to have the power to make each feather stand out from its neighbor. I suppose this is done in order that the sun may get to every part of the skin.
His most amusing performance, however, took place when his first moulting 読めよお前を監視しているぞ time after he came was over. One by one his old, mutilated feathers dropped out, and finally new ones took their places. On a memorable day Bob discovered that he had a real tail with a white feather on each side of it, and a pair of good, serviceable wings. He gave a joyful cry, shook his tail as if he would uproot it, then spread his wings and lifted himself in the air. Hopping time was over. He was now a real bird, and he flew from one end of the aviary to the other with an unmistakable expression of robin ecstasy.
Most unfortunately, I had not a chance to study poor Dick’s character as fully as Bob’s, for I only had him a short time. Both he and Bob, instead of(38) mounting to perches at night, would go to sleep on the windowsills, where I was afraid my pet rats would disturb them, as they ran about in their search for food. Therefore, I went into the aviary every evening, and lifted them up to a comfortable place for the night, near the hot-water pipes. I would not put robins in a warm place now. They are hardy birds, and if given a sufficient quantity of nourishing food do not need a warm sleeping-place. If we only had a better food supply I believe we would have many more wild birds with us in winter in the Northern States and Canada than we have now.
Late one evening I went into the aviary to put my robins to bed. I could only find Bob—Dick was nowhere to be seen. My father and mother joined me in the search, and finally we found his poor, lifeless body near the entrance to the rats’ underground nest. His head had been eaten—poor, intelligent Dick; and in gazing at him, and at the abundance of food in the aviary, the fate of the rats was sealed.
I fed my birds hard-boiled egg mashed with bread crumbs, crushed hemp-seed, scalded cornmeal, bread and milk, prepared mockingbird food, soaked ant eggs, all kinds of mush or “porridge,” as we say in Canada, chopped beef, potato and gravy, vegetables cooked and raw, seeds and fruit, an almost incredible amount of green stuff, and many other things—and yet the rats had found it necessary to commit a murder.
(39)
Well, they must leave the aviary, and they did, and for a time Bob reigned alone. I did try to bring up a number of young robins given to me by children who rescued them from cats, or who found them on the ground unable to fly, but for a long time I had very hard luck with them.
Either the birds were diseased or I did not feed them properly. I have a fancy that I half starved them. Bird fanciers whom I consulted told me to be sure and not stuff my robins, for they were greedy birds. As long as I took their advice my young robins died. When I went to my canaries for advice I saw that the parents watched the tiny heads folded like flowers too heavy for their stalks, over the little warm bodies in the nests.
The instant a head was raised the mother or father put a mouthful of warm egg-food in it. The little ones got all they would eat—indeed, the father, with food dripping from his mouth, would coax his nestlings to take just one beakful more. I smiled broadly and began to give my robins all the worms they wanted, and then they lived.
The bringing up of young birds is intensely interesting. I found that one reason why early summer is the favorite time for nest-making is because one has the short nights then. Parents can feed their young quite late in the evening and be up by early daylight to fill the little crops again. Robins are birds that like to sit up late, and are always the last to go to bed in the aviary.
(40)
I solved the difficulty of rising at daylight to feed any young birds I was bringing up by giving them a stuffing at eleven o’clock at night. Then I did not have to rise till nearly eight.
This, of course, was for healthy birds. If I had a sick guineapig, rabbit, or bird, I never hesitated to get up many times during the night, for I have a theory that men and women who cannot or will not undertake the moral responsibility of bringing up children, should at least assist in the rearing of some created thing, if it is only a bird. Otherwise they become egotistical and absorbed in self.
Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.
We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”
The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.
We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.
We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.
The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.
When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.
However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.
Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.
“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.
I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.
As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.
Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.
Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.
“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”
“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”
“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.
Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”
There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.
(27)
One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.
The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”
The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”
Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.
Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.
I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.
She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.
Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.
I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.
After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”
Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.
“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”
I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?
(30)
I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.
In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.
I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.
“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”
“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”
He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.
My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.
I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.
(32)
I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.
No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l
peace and quietness of the night after the turmoil of the day, were hooting persistently and melodiously.
“The landlady and the boarders,” gasped my sister; “they will hear and wake up. Can’t you stop the little wretches?”
I sprang out of bed, and addressed a solemn remonstrance to Solomon and Betsy. They were exceedingly glad to see me, and distending their little throats, continued to hoot, their clear, sweet young voices carrying only too well on the still Californian night air.
Then the chipmunk woke up and began to slide up and down an inclined piece of wood in his part of the cage. We were in despair. We could not sleep, until I had the happy thought of giving the owls a bath. I seized Betsy, held her in a basin of water, and wet her feathers considerably. Then I served Solomon in the same way, and for the rest of the night the tiny little things occupied themselves in smoothing their wet plumage. The chipmunk quieted down, and we had peace.
(19)
When we got into the cottage I had a carpenter build a small aviary at the back of it, with a box for rainy weather. The nights were not too cold for my hardy birds. Indeed, they were not too cold for many semi-tropical ones. I found a bird fancier not far from me, who had built a good-sized, open-air aviary, where he kept canaries and foreign finches all the year round, with only a partly open, glass shelter for the birds to use when it rained.
My sparrowhawk did not seem unhappy in my aviary, but he never had the contented, comfortable expression that the owls had. His apathy was pathetic, and the expression of his beautiful, cruel eyes was an unsatisfied one. In time, I should have allowed him to go, but suddenly he fell ill. I think I overfed him, for I got him into the habit of taking a late supper, always leaning out the window and handing him a piece of meat on the end of a stick before I went to bed.
I brought him into the warm kitchen, where he moped about for a few days. Just before he died he came hopping toward the parlor, where I sat entertaining a friend. I often took him in there on the broad windowsill and talked to him as I sat sewing.
He stood in the doorway, gave me a peculiar look, as if to say, “I would come in if you were alone,” hopped back to the kitchen, and in a short time was no more.
My sister and I mourned sincerely for our pretty bird, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I(20) might have done better if I had left him in his own habitat—but then he might have starved to death if his parents had not found him. Would death by starvation have been any more painful than his death with me? Possibly some larger creature might have killed him swiftly and mercifully—it was a puzzling case, and I resolved to give up worrying about it. I had done what I considered was best, and I tried to console myself for his death in petting the dear little owls that had become so tame that they called to my sister and me whenever they saw us, and loved to have us take them in our hands and caress them.
About them I had no misgivings. They would certainly have died if I had not adopted them, and there was no question about their happiness. They were satisfied with a state of captivity. They had so far lost one of their owl habits, for they kept awake nearly all day, and slept nearly all night—and they could see quite well in the most brilliant Californian sunlight, and that is pretty brilliant. A cat or a dog many yards distant would cause them to raise excitedly the queer little ear tufts that play so prominent a part in the facial expression of some owls, and they would crack their beaks together and hiss angrily if the enemy came too near.
Cats and dogs frightened them, and a broom merely excited them. When strangers wanted to see the elevation of these tufts, a broom, swiftly passed over the floor, would cause Solomon and(21) Betsy to become very wide awake, with feather tufts straight up in the air. I never saw them abjectly and horribly frightened but once. A lady had brought her handsome parrot into the room where the owls were. The poor little mites put up their ear tufts, swayed to and fro on their perch, and instead of packing their feathers and becoming thin and elongated in appearance, as they did for cats and dogs, they puffed themselves out, snapped their beaks, and uttered the loudest hissing noise I had ever heard from them.
From their extremity of fear I concluded that their instinct told them this danger was so imminent that they must make themselves as formidable as possible.
The parrot was of course quickly removed, and I took care that they should never again see another one.
Hey guys, did you know that in terms of male human and female Pokémon breeding, Vaporeon is the most compatible Pokémon for humans? Not only are they in the field egg group, which is mostly comprised of mammals, Vaporeon are an average of 3"03' tall and 63.9 pounds. this means they're large enough to be able to handle human d--ks, and with their impressive Base Stats for HP and access to Acid Armor, you can be rough with one. Due to their mostly water based biology, there's no doubt in my mind that an aroused Vaporeon would be incredibly wet, so wet that you could easily have sex with one for hours without getting sore. They can also learn the moves Attract, Baby-Doll Eyes, Captivate, Charm, and Tail Whip, along with not having fur to hide nipples, so it'd be incredibly easy for one to get you in the mood. With their abilities Water Absorb and Hydration, they can easily recover from fatigue with enough water. No other Pokémon comes close to this level of compatibility. Also, fun fact, if you pull out enough, you can make your Vaporeon turn white.
有名どころだと、
MCUのエンドゲームの最後で傲慢不遜男のトニーが自分の命を犠牲に指パッチンするときに
（私がアイアンマンだ）]
って言うやつ。
これってMCU1作目アイアンマンのラストのセリフと全く同じなんだよね。
I am Iron Man.で始まって、I am Iron Man.で最後の戦いが終わる。
泣いちゃうよね。
他にはワイスピシリーズで、ダブル主演の一人ポール・ウォーカーがなくなってしまったスカイミッションの最後で
ポールに対して、もう一人の主役のヴィンが
I used to say I lived my life a quarter mile at a time.
And I think that's why we were brothers. Because you did, too.
とモノローグで語り掛けるシーンがあるんだけど、
これもワイルドスピード1作目でヴィンがポールに対して自分の人生を語るときに言った
I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters:
not the mortgage, not the store, not my team and all their bullshit. For those ten seconds or less, I’m free.
最初は利用し合う敵対関係で始まった二人が理解を深め、兄弟だと思うようになって別れていく。
このへんは日本語吹き替えだけ見てるとわかんないんだけど、作品愛にあふれたいいセリフだなって思う。
I want to display mathematical formulas in SSG, so I have installed the KaTeX plugin.
In the case of SSG (honkit) that I use, I want to convert the part to a mathematical formula into
Enclose it in $ (dollar mark) and write the contents in so-called TeX.
In fact, the github site also supports math rendering.
I think it's pretty familiar.
I wanted to mention Excel's built-in functions. What are Excel functions?
I use the dollar mark when I want to keep the cell fixed even if it gets copied and pasted.
I want the dollars to remain dollars inside the code block.
For example on the markdown source side
```markdown
=\$A\$2
````
I thought I could escape it by adding a backslash, so that's what I did.
In the case of the SSG that I use, when converted to html,
````
\{% math_inline %}A\{% endmath_inline %}2
````
As for the hosting method, I also store the html files in a GIT repository and host them on the `vercel.app` site. Regarding markdown → html, I do it in the local environment instead of using GitHub Actions.
I confirmed that if I use full-width instead of half-width for the dollar, it would not be recognized, so I confirmed that it would work.
But this isn't a fundamental solution, is it?
Also, open the html file and use the batch replacement function to replace `{% math_inline %}` and `{% endmath_inline %}` with dollars. It seems that you need some wisdom to selectively replace only the fence code blocks at once.
https://github.com/zimmem/honkit-plugin-katex
Markdown's fence code block is a guy who repeats backticks three times.
In some cases, the only option is to ask the author to ignore the dollar sign conversion.
The author of the plugin seems to have stopped development a long time ago.
It seems like they won't be able to respond.
Also, in the case of inline math, it says to surround it with two dollars each, and in the case of block math, it says to surround it with two dollars + a new line, which is different from the normal syntax. I'm curious.
However, it will work even if you write it in the md source using normal syntax.
Hey guys, did you know that in terms of male human and female Pokémon breeding, Vaporeon is the most compatible Pokémon for humans? Not only are they in the field egg group, which is mostly comprised of mammals, Vaporeon are an average of 3"03' tall and 63.9 pounds. this means they're large enough to be able to handle human dicks, and with their impressive Base stats for HP and access to Acid Armor, you can be rough with one. Due to their mostly water based biology, there's no doubt in my mind that an aroused Vaporeon would be incredibly wet, so wet that you could easily have sex with one for hours without getting sore. They can also learn the moves Attract, Baby-Doll eyes, Captivate, Charm and Tail Whip along with not having fur to hide nipples, so it'd be incredibly easy for one to get you in the mood. With their abilities Water Absorb and Hydration, they can easily recover from fatigue with enough water. No other Pokémon comes close with this level of compatibility. Also, fun fact, if you pull out enough, you can make your Vaporeon turn white. Vaporeon is literally built for human dick. Ungodly defense stat + high HP pool + Acid Armor means it can take cock all day, all shapes and sizes and still come for more.
I went to a language school in UK for a bit. My grammar sucked tbh but I was somewhat good at speaking. There wasn't much grammar study. It was more like training each pattern again and again. Like you train "so that" pattern in 10 different settings for example. Then I came to the states and just started working. You swim or drown situation. I didn't wanna drown obviously so did everything. I memorized thousands of vocabularies, read hundreds of magazines and mangas, watched tons of sitcoms and animes, practiced differentiating and pronouncing vowels and consonants, limiting myself to only search in English, basically anything you can think of except using Japanese materials as I didn't find it helpful. It'll be a book if I go into the details but you got the idea.
Actually, it turned out I DO feel like spending 40min or at least 20min of my life. I'm rather fascinated. In the first video, he says "I'm not taking a view as many people did, in the early days of quantum mechanics that it's the conscious Observer looking at the system". NOTE, it's "Observing", not "Measuring" and he DOES NOT take the view of "the conscious Observer looking at the system".
Now do you really want me to continue in English or do you want to read it in Japanese?
そうですね！やかましいですね！ところでウクライナ音楽とロシア音楽をかけ合わせたらどうなるでしょうか？とっても平和の響きがするでしょう！あなたの手持ちのイスラエルも混ぜてみましょうよよよよよよよよよよよよよよよ
<div class="conversation"><h4>Close your head</h4><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Close your eyes…」「Close your head…</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Close your eyes... Close your head...</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>say, what you saw. you can see with mind.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I saw... darkness. My mind's eye is a void, devoid of sight.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>i can light you. </div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Light me then.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div><*click*> i light you now. then, what you see? you can see with mind.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I see a dimly lit room. Shadows dance on the walls, and a faint, eerie glow permeates the space.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Shadow of what?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The shadows seem to take form, twisting and contorting into strange, indistinct shapes. It's as if they are the embodiment of forgotten fears and hidden desires.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Do you have any idea who is showing it?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I have no idea. The source of these shadows remains hidden, shrouded in mystery and intrigue.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>OK, let's leave the mysterious and scary shadow behind. What else can you see in this room?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: In this dimly lit room, I can make out a cluttered assortment of objects. There's an old, tattered book lying open on a dusty table, its pages filled with arcane symbols. A moth-eaten rug covers a portion of the floor, and a cracked mirror hangs on one wall, reflecting distorted images. The air carries a musty scent, and I sense an atmosphere of abandonment and neglect.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>You pick book and check it</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I reach out and pick up the old book. Its pages feel brittle and fragile in my hands. As I flip through the pages, the text appears to be written in a language I can't comprehend, filled with cryptic symbols and diagrams. It's a tome of secrets, but its meaning remains elusive.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>see book cover</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I examine the cover of the book, trying to discern any details despite the dim light. The cover is worn and weathered, and it bears an intricate design of what appears to be a coiled serpent, its scales formed from shimmering, iridescent colors. Above the serpent, there's a title in elegant script, but it's written in a language I can't decipher. The book exudes an aura of mystique and ancient knowledge.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Is there a place to go? What about the door?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I turn my attention to the room's exit, the door. It stands tall and imposing, made of heavy, dark wood. There's a tarnished doorknob, and the door appears to be slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of what lies beyond. It beckons me to explore further, promising unknown adventures or perhaps even more mysteries.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>try to open</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I approach the door and grasp the tarnished doorknob. With a gentle push, the door creaks open, revealing a corridor shrouded in shadows. The faint glow from the room behind me barely penetrates the darkness ahead. I step cautiously into the corridor, ready to uncover the secrets that lie beyond.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>foward.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I proceed forward down the shadowy corridor, my footsteps echoing faintly in the dimness. The path ahead seems endless, and the air grows cooler as I delve deeper into the unknown, guided only by the flickering light behind me and the anticipation of what awaits.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>foward and look around</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Continuing down the corridor, I take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with faded, tattered tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and mythical creatures. The torch sconces that once held flames have long since burned out, leaving only empty brackets. The air feels heavy with history, and there's a faint, eerie whispering that seems to emanate from the walls themselves, as if they hold secrets untold.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>keep going until you discover something</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I press on, the corridor seemingly endless. My journey is shrouded in uncertainty, but I persist, driven by the need to discover what lies ahead. The shadows deepen, and the air grows colder as I continue, my curiosity and determination unwavering.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>stop! you here that?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I halt in my tracks, straining my ears to listen. There's a faint, distant sound, almost like a whisper carried on the wind. It's indistinct, but it holds a mysterious allure, beckoning me to investigate further.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>listen carefully</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I listen intently, my senses sharpened as I focus on the elusive sound. It becomes clearer, a haunting melody that seems to weave through the very air itself. It's both captivating and eerie, drawing me closer to its source with each haunting note.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>who play that?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The source of the haunting melody remains elusive, hidden in the shadows. It's as if the music emanates from the very walls, an ethereal presence that defies explanation. There is no visible musician, yet the music continues to fill the corridor, casting a spell of enchantment and mystery.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Head to the source of the sound and investigate (dice roll)</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I heed the roll of the dice and embark on a quest to trace the source of the haunting melody. Each step takes me closer to the enchanting sound, and as I round a corner in the corridor, I come upon a door, slightly ajar, from which the music seems to emanate. My heart races with anticipation as I push the door open, eager to unveil the secrets that lie within.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>When you open the door, there...</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: When I open the door, there stands a grand chamber bathed in an otherworldly glow. In the center of the room, an ornate grand piano commands attention. The keys move on their own, playing the haunting melody that had drawn me here. But there's no one at the piano.The room is adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded mirrors, reflecting the surreal scene before me. Candlelit chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across the walls. The air is filled with an intoxicating fragrance, a mix of ancient incense and delicate flowers.At the far end of the room, a figure cloaked in shadows stands beside an enormous, antique bookshelf filled with tomes of forgotten knowledge. Their presence is enigmatic, and their intentions remain unclear.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>look piano</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I approach the grand piano, its keys still playing the haunting melody. As I inspect it, I notice that there are no visible hands or fingers touching the keys. It's as if the piano itself is possessed by some unseen force, creating the music with an ethereal touch.The piano is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with precious gemstones. Its keys are made of polished ivory, and they move in perfect harmony with the haunting tune. It's a surreal and mesmerizing sight, leaving me both entranced and bewildered.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Be careful, it might be a man-eating piano.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: I heed the caution and approach the grand piano with caution. Although it plays on its own, I remain wary of its mysterious nature. The possibility of a man-eating piano lingers in my mind, adding an extra layer of tension to the already surreal scene.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>the piano suddenly stops</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The abrupt halt of the piano's music sends a shiver down my spine. The chamber falls into an eerie silence, broken only by the flickering candlelight. It's as if the very essence of the room holds its breath, waiting for what comes next.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>You feel disgusted and turn around. What happened?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: As I turn around, a wave of revulsion washes over me. My senses reel in disgust at the sight before me. The figure that had been cloaked in shadows has now revealed itself, and it is a grotesque, nightmarish entity. Its form is a twisted amalgamation of human and beast, with grotesque, elongated limbs and a maw of sharp, jagged teeth.The once opulent chamber has transformed into a nightmarish lair, with walls adorned in macabre art and gruesome trophies. The air is thick with the stench of decay and despair. I am trapped in a surreal and horrifying nightmare, unable to escape the clutches of this abomination.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>it scary. what will you do?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: Fear courses through me as I confront this nightmarish entity and its gruesome lair. In this realm of horrors, I must make a decision. I choose to... confront the entity, my curiosity and determination outweighing my fear, as I seek to uncover the mysteries and secrets that lie within this twisted nightmare.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>how?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: With trembling resolve, I take a step forward, slowly approaching the grotesque entity. I attempt to communicate with it, asking it what it wants or why it has brought me here. My voice quivers, but my determination to unravel the enigma that surrounds this nightmarish realm remains steadfast.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>any result?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: The grotesque entity regards me with malevolent, glowing eyes, its jagged maw twitching with an unsettling smile. It responds with a guttural, incomprehensible language, filled with whispers and hisses. It becomes apparent that communication with this entity is futile, and its intentions remain shrouded in darkness.As I continue to stand before this nightmarish being, I feel a growing sense of dread, realizing that escape may be the only option left.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>surely. what will you do?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: With no hope of communication or understanding, and the nightmarish entity's menacing presence growing more oppressive, I decide to make a hasty retreat. I turn and rush toward the door through which I entered, driven by the instinct to escape the horrors of this surreal nightmare.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>Did it go well? Or Bad?</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">ChatGPT</div><div><rotating_light ALPHABREAKrotating_light>: My escape from the nightmarish realm was fraught with tension and fear, but I managed to reach the door and slam it shut behind me. The grotesque entity and its horrifying lair were left behind, at least for the moment. Whether it went well or bad is a matter of perspective. I survived the encounter, but the mysteries and terrors of that surreal place still haunt my thoughts. The experience was a chilling reminder of the unknown and the horrors that can lurk within it.</div></pre><pre class="message"><div class="author">user</div><div>look around. what you see?</div></pre><pre class=" Permalink | 記事への反応(2) | 16:06
And before some fuck says "hurr LM is a grifter!" I'm not arguing the validity of his takes.
I'm saying that most chuubas did not have a lawyer read any of the shit they signed, and even having some fuck chasing vtuber drama like his professional-forebearers chased ambulances is literally the most extensive legal representation they've given themselves.
ambulance chaser
〈話・軽蔑的〉悪徳弁護士◆直訳 救急車を追いかける人◆語源 交通事故の被害者が乗った救急車を追跡して、被害者またはその家族に会って、加害者に損害賠償金を請求するようもちかけて、その一部をせしめようとする様子から。
https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/39768770/dodgers-shohei-ohtani-interpreter-fired-theft
Initially, a spokesman for Ohtani told ESPN the slugger had transferred the funds to cover Mizuhara's gambling debt. The spokesman presented Mizuhara to ESPN for a 90-minute interview Tuesday night, during which Mizuhara laid out his account in great detail.
当初大谷の広報はメディアに対して「大谷が水原の借金を肩代わりした」と説明し、水原に90分のインタビューに答えさせて詳細を説明したと
However, as ESPN prepared to publish the story Wednesday, the spokesman disavowed Mizuhara's account and said Ohtani's lawyers would issue a statement.
"In the course of responding to recent media inquiries, we discovered that Shohei has been the victim of a massive theft, and we are turning the matter over to the authorities," read the statement from Berk Brettler LLP.
The spokesman declined to answer any further questions, and the statement did not specify whom they believe perpetrated the alleged theft.
ところが翌日になって水原の説明を否定し、大谷は窃盗の被害者だと弁護士が発表して広報はそれ以上の質問に答えることを拒否した
賭博そのものへの関与はなかったとしても当初発表の通り大谷が借金肩代わりして違法賭博業者に送金してたらそれだけでヤバいよな
/r/japanlife/s/P1LIa3VcAm
Was told "no foreigners" by a clinic
I just recently moved to a new area in Tokyo, I called a nearby clinic to make a reservation (in Japanese) and pretty quickly into the conversation, the receptionist asked if I could go somewhere else instead. When I asked why, she clearly and blatantly said "they don't take foreigners." I was shocked so I asked again just to make sure I heard right and again she said they don't take foreigners.
When I accused the clinic of discrimination they tried to deny it and claim that "it's difficult to communicate with foreigners," though I've never had that issue at any other Japanese speaking only clinic or hospital.
If this were just a bar or something I'd drop it, but the fact that a CLINIC can blatantly discriminate against patients seems insane to me. I'm not expecting much sadly, but is there anywhere I can report them?
I'm paranoid about just leaving bad reviews because I've seen a first hand case of someone getting sued over one.
UPDATE:
I called a "patient voice" hotline for reporting these sort of things. I explained the situation and they said they would contact the clinic. They later updated me and said they were actually able to talk to the doctor, and he just doubled down and insisted they did nothing wrong because "communication with foreigners is difficult." After that they basically could not do anything else other than offer sympathy lol...
[患者の声相談窓口 東京都保健医療局 (tokyo.lg.jp)](https://www.hokeniryo.metro.tokyo.lg.jp/iryo/sodan/madoguchi.html)
I also called this government hotline. First they tried to refer me back to the patient voice hotline. After I explained the results from patient voice, they said they are going to determine if it warrants an investigation, which would take 2-3 weeks. They also warned that the clinic is allowed to decline the investigation... so honestly I'm expecting nothing. But they said they would contact me again in 2-3 weeks.
[Human Rights Bureau (moj.go.jp)](https://www.moj.go.jp/ENGLISH/HB/hb.html)
Local police just said different hospitals have different rules and nothing can be done, just go to a different clinic.
患者の声相談窓口 東京都保健医療局 に相談してもクリニックが拒否をしたらそれ以上に何もせず同情しただけ。
いまは 人権擁護局 に相談中とのこと。でもクリニックは人権擁護局からの調査を拒否できるらしい。
今の時点で1000以上のupvoteが付いてるが、これは japanlife subreddit ではかなり多い方。
