RKS Japanese Literature: Pimping to American Soldiers in Post War Japan (Akiyuki Nosaka)

“I needed English for my pimping-if you can call getting one or two women a day for soldiers pimping. The girls were all pale, boney-shouldered aspiring whores who had word that they could meet America-san and get chocolate if they came here, the soldiers all sad-faced boys would stood watching what was then the swift, clear flow of the Dōjima River, maybe thinking of home, but not over here in Nakanoshima because it was supposed to be girl-hunting territory. Amateurs, the girls had no idea how to turn their nicely bagged spoils into cash.”

Akiyuki Nosaka, “American Hijiki”

RKS Poetry Anthology (All We Get Are The Coffee Grinds)

DDR Circus Memories

Somewhere in the deep Romanian countryside

My feelings debased on the circus ring

Subordinated to the vulgar popcorn mouths

Soon the master with the whip with the back ripping sting

But I’ll look so pretty

Shiny fear and gleaming coat and white fangs on those with dignity and pride

They came to see the untamed beast

Ruffian and uncouth champion of the jungle

I attempt a roar

The tears choke

I should be laughing

But the whip exclaims, “NO!”

Not here for the public currency declines

My worth depends on them

The ugly crowd, judge and jury

Guilty is the one without the big clap

God help those whose cage has no bars

And they slowly strangle their pretensions of dignity

While I at least have none

That being the dignity they will never see

Robert K. Stephen

RKS Literature: Fear of the Mob (George Orwell)

“Fear of the mob is a superstitious fear. It is based on the idea there is some mysterious, fundamental difference between rich and poor, as though they were two different races like negroes and white men. But in reality, there is no such difference. The mass of rich and poor are differentiated by their incomes and nothing else, and the average millionaire is only the average dishwasher dressed in a new suit. Change places, and handy dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? Everyone who has mixed on equal terms with the poor knows this quite well. For what do the majority of educated people know about the poor?”

George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom” :THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY: FLYING THE COOP INTO THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE

Singapore Times Exclusive: SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY: FLYING THE COOP INTO THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE

Some you holier than thou readers may be tsk tsking me for contemplating Bobby Jr. was a decent fellow. OK, he might have exhibited brutality to others but I saw him as my protector. Perhaps it was that hostage identifying with the captor psychological phenomena?

And yes, due to the Singaporean penchant for air-conditioning which freezes a Scotsman’s blood cold I have hopped on Bobby Jr.’s bed and rested at the foot of the bed. Cold air sinks remember?

I never forgot Bob and Fay my master and mistress but being a mindful mutt, I must live in the moment and the moment was keeping on the best terms with Bobby Jr. the man that promised come what may no harm would come to me.

You wanted me to be the fearless Westie that escapes to the streets of Singapore with animal control as efficient as the Gestapo! I am brave but not stupid. It was not the time to fly the coop and end up in the slaughterhouse.

RKS Literature: A Wild Saturday Night in Paris Ends (George Orwell)

“By half-past one the last drop of pleasure had evaporated, leaving nothing but headaches. We perceived we were not splendid inhabitants of a splendid world, but a crew of underpaid workmen grown squalidly and dismally drink. We went on swallowing the wine, but it was only from habit, and the stuff seemed suddenly nauseating. One’s head had swollen up like a balloon, the floor rocked, one’s tongue and lips were stained purple. At last, it was no use keeping it up any longer. Several men went into the yard behind the bistro and were sick. We crawled up to bed, tumbled down half dressed, and stayed there ten hours.”

George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.

RKS Japanese Literature: Hiroshima Aftermath: People Looking Like Baked Rice Crackers (Yoko Ōta)

“The number of people on the riverbed increased minute by minute, many of them now with severe burns. At first, we didn’t realize that their injuries were burns. There were no fires, so how could they have been burnt so badly? Strange, grotesque, they were more pathetic than frightening. They had all been burnt in the same way, as if the men who baked rice crackers had roasted them all in ovens. Normal burns are part red and part white, but these were ash-coloured as if the skin had been grilled rather than burnt. Ash-coloured skin hung from their flesh, peeling off in strips like the skins of roast potatoes.”

Yoko Ōta, “Hiroshima, City of Doom”

RKS Literature: No Sense in Losing Sleep Over a Murder (George Orwell)

“One night in the small hours, there was a murder just beneath my window. I was woken by a fearful uproar, and, going to the window, saw a man lying flat on the stones below; I could see the murderers, three of them, flitting away at the end of the street. Some of us went down and found the man was quite dead, his skull cracked open with a piece of lead piping. I remember the colour of his blood, curiously purple, like wine; it was still on the cobbles when I came home that evening, and they said that schoolchildren had come from miles to see it. But the thing that strikes me in looking back it was that I was in bed and asleep within three minutes of the murder. So were most of the people in the street; we just made sure the man was done for and went straight back to bed. We were working people and where was the sense of wasting sleep over a murder.”

George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: BUSTED FOR POOPING ALL OVER SINGAPORE

The Singapore Times Exclusive: BUSTED FOR POOPING ALL OVER SINGAPORE

On the last evening of ratting training at Punggol Waterway Park as we strolled to Bobby Jr.’s car nature called and it was poop time. That Singapore Chicken and greens I am being fed is lubricating my intestines quite well. I completed my bodily function and a man in a uniform sprung from the bushes and shouted at me, “You’re busted you filthy mutt!”

Come to think of it I have been crapping all over Singapore and Bobby Jr. hasn’t been picking it up and washing off poop stains as required by Singapore Animal Control.

I can’t blame Bobby Jr. as he was a newbie to dog ownership. Money to pay a maximum fine of $1,000 is not an issue for Bobby Jr. but if this went public my reputation may be soiled, an event we must avoid before participating in the upcoming “Singapore Westie of the Year”. Poopers may be required wear a bight yellow vest in public “I am a dirty pooper.”

Bobby Jr. peeled out $5000 and paid the by law officer who responded he could up the charge under the Singapore Vandalism Act leading to a maximum 8 stroke caning of Bobby Jr. Another $5000 ensured complete discretion!

RKS Japanese Literature: Hiroshima Aftermath: Face Puffed up Like a Loaf of Bread (Yoko Ōta)

“This was the first good look we had had of each other’s angry faces, but smiling was an impossibility. We couldn’t see our own faces, but looking at each other gave us an idea. My sister’s face was puffed up like a loaf of bread, and her eyes, normally large, black and uncannily clear, had become mere slits, their edges dark and blue as blue-black ink. A cross-shaped cut extended from the right edge of her lip into her cheek, twisting her whole mouth into a sideways inverted letter L, a sight so ugly I could not look at it for long. Her hair was caked with blood and the red clay of our house’s walls, as if she had been on the streets begging for years.”

Yoko Ōta, “Hiroshima, City of Doom”

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: ON THE PATH TO MEDIA FAME

The Singapore Times Exclusive: ON THE PATH TO MEDIA FAME

Bobby Jr. had suggested I could become Southeast Asia’s most famous West Highland Terrier For what purpose I did not know nor did Bobby Jr. reveal such.

After a most delectable room service breakfast in Bobby Jr.’s Singapore Shangri-La suite including chicken congee which I adore we were on the road to meet with the chair of the organizing committee for “Singapore Westie of the Year” a day of competition for Singapore’s Westies. The winner received a small cash prize but lucrative social media deals were sure to follow.

We met with a ruddy faced Brit Sir Reginald Nicomshire a Singaporean shipping magnate who Bobby explained had a passion for West Highland Terriers. One problem, being nine months of age I did not qualify under the minimum age requirement of one year. Nicomshire was nonplussed as after all Madame Fong and Bobby Jr. were akin to family according to Nicomshire.

The criteria for the competition were;

  • Good looks
  • Intelligence
  • Cuddleability
  • Begging skills
  • Compatibility with other dogs
  • Vermin and rat hunting
  • Speed

I was in for the competition to be held the following weekend.

I had all the criteria nailed solid except for ratting. Like the movie “Rocky” Bobby Jr. was to be my ratting trainer. For the next four nights we headed to pathways near the Elias Mall in Pasir Ris to hone my skills. Lots of those filthy Norway rats there! Yes even Singapore is rat infested!

Westies do not catch rats on the run but dig through rat burrows. Easy peasy! Bobby Jr. said I only had to make the hunt “look good” as the panel of 6 judges had been “renumerated” to guarantee a certain result.

The day of the competition arrived and in high spirits we drove to Punggol Waterway Park, the site of the competition.