Coming back to Earth

I think I’ve exhausted everything I could possibly regale you about a mere couple weeks in Japan.

Aside from the little experience of accidentally hopping onto a women’s only train carriage (they had a groping problem over there), speaking vocally with my friend about my affinity for Japanese women, safe in the knowledge that noone understood me… before realising that the smiling woman standing next to my friend actually DID understand what I was saying.

She politely pointed out the giant pink sign that indicated that we were on a women’s only carriage, and then scurried away.

Anyway, I have assimilated back into Australia, and I have gotten over there whole “Australia sucks because it’s not Japan” syndrome that probably afflicts first time overseas adventurers.

Well… I’ve been to New Zealand twice… but that’s not really overseas.

But I am back. On Sunday I sat down and watched with disgust at the media’s constant info-whoring over the miner’s trapped in Beaconsfield.

Then Mr Carleton from 60 minutes asked his question about why miners were still being sent to dangerous areas… was it because of the mine’s greed? Blahdy blah, blah.

I thought to myself, “Oh for fuck’s sake… this press conference isn’t the time or place or to be shit stirring, you sensationalist arsehole… this conference was to brief everyone on the process and progress, not a chance for you to fling faeces and do a grandstanding of Michael Moore proportions… and he’s a big guy”

Ah… normality. I had resumed my normal, media-hating tirade.

Then the guy dropped dead. Heart attack.

He had asked the question, turned around, walked a couple metres and dropped dead.

As much as I hate 60 minutes, I'd still love to eventually bow out like how Richard Carleton did…

He bought the big one… doing what he loved.