It's a tough hustle to become a real G.
You know what, though?
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.
小林武史が、知人に紹介され関心を持ったakkoと、かねてよりデビューさせたかったというギタリストの藤井謙二の2人組ユニットをプロデュースする形でMY LITTLE LOVERとして、1995年5月1日にデビューさせた。曲は小林がほぼ全て作詞、作曲、アレンジした。二人はテレビにも出演したこともあり、『Man & Woman／My Painting』（最高位7位）（1995年5月1日）、『白いカイト』（最高位11位）（1995年7月3日）はいずれも50万枚を超え、新人としては高セールスを見せた。さらに翌月『Hello, Again 〜昔からある場所〜』（1995年8月21日）を発売。ドラマ主題歌でもあったこの曲が、180万枚を超える大ヒットとなり、トップミュージシャンとして認知されることになる。また、小林はMr.Childrenのプロデューサーとしても大ブレイクしている最中で、その手腕の高さが評価された。その冬には1stアルバム『evergreen』をリリース。約280万枚を売り上げた。 また、アルバム発表時から小林がMY LITTLE LOVERの一員、キーボードメンバーとして正式加入し3人になった。1996年、akkoと小林が結婚したことを発表、同時に妊娠もしており出産のため活動休止に入った。
堀口 英利 | Horiguchi Hidetoshi
Of course, she went to the police, but after being made to reenact the crime several times by the police officers, she was still unable to catch the perpetrator, and even if she was arrested, she came home only in despair after being told of the burden on the victim to prosecute and the light criminal penalty (only a few years).
She thought she couldn't keep losing, so she didn't quit her job and tried to meet and date me, but it remained painful and the despair didn't go away, but she couldn't tell me about the incident either.
To her, there was nothing she could do about it, and she didn't think that she would be saved by saying it, and it seemed that she was always afraid of being hated by me because she thought I was dirty.
But when she saw the Susukino decapitation case which the whole family killed the rapist, she realized that she wanted to kill him all along, too, and it seems she couldn't stand it any more and ended up speaking out.
No matter how much I hate myself, the fact that I belong to the gender that perpetrates sexual crimes remains unchanged. However, I do have a desire to reduce the number of women who become victims of sexual crimes.
Every time I think that there might be videos of her from the past out there on the internet, the violence of filming, the violence of selling, the violence of creating platforms for selling, the violence of buying and enjoying – it all becomes so frightening, loathsome, and unbearable.
For now, I plan to contact payment companies of voyeurism video trading sites like pcolle, gcolle, and palpis (there are even major ones like Rakuten Bank involved) and urge them to stop facilitating violent profit-making.
Even if nothing changes, I intend to hold onto the fragment of atonement that comes with feeling the responsibility of the gender that doesn't experience any harm or victimization without doing anything.
While there might be opinions urging to separate the realm of 2D from reality, there's no assurance that cognition won't become distorted. Moreover, if it were about the 2D world, if someone were to enjoy animal abuse, the majority of people would feel a sense of repulsion.
But I want to do what I can.
In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.
I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.
My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.
A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.
I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.
I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.
Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.
I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.
The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.
ナイトモードの液晶は、kigerがメスケモスーツを身にまとい、他のMan In Meskemoを紐で縛ったり、吊るしたり、なんだりかんだりしている様子を伝達するために発光している。その光は役目を全うしたAmazonの箱を照らす。部屋一面が箱だらけだ。終わってる。21世紀は真空チューブで人やモノを運ぶんじゃなかったか。車は空を飛ばなくていいし、完全栄養ババロアが配給されなくてもいい。コンクリの道路と肉体を捨てさせてくれれば。
弱虫ペダル RIDE.38 「総北の魂」