I love a euphamism. They are a silly game of coyness and power.

Last week I learned the Japanese have legalized prostitution. This is apparently kept on the up and up by the government, or so I’ve been told although I haven’t had the time or opportunity to do an exhaustive research study.

I’m saving my money up right now though! Donate to the Amazon tip box and help a budding freelance journalist do important cultural research!

Anyway, the phrases for the various services, I’ve been told, fall under two categories.

Fashion Massage for a quick little snack of sexual release.

Fashion Health for a full body kind of work out with some sex and other assorted activities.

One of my co-workers was amused enough to look these phrases up in Google and found a “menu” for a fashion massage place that had an item listed as “anal abuse with instruments”.

Now I’m not sure what that is, and I am absolutely sure I do not want any anal abuse with instruments unless, of course, it includes a salad, but I love that it’s a menu item. Maybe it’s a specialty, a kind of loss leader to get the people in who might be curious?

What’s also amazing is how cheap these things are. You get a shower, a fashion massage, another shower, and you’re out on the street less 2000 yen or about $20. Only $20 for two showers and a quick release! What a great country Japan is!

It’s so great a nation that I’ve been pondering building a time machine. A time machine where I go back in time and make sure that the US loses WWII to the Japanese.

Maybe all I have to do is go to General MacArthur and President Roosevelt and explain to them what the country will be missing out on if we win. They were smart men. They would see the need for fashion health all the time. They would purposely lose and the world would be a much more relaxed place.

You know why the Japanese have such a low homicide rate? I’ll tell you.

Say for instance that some guy is really pissing you off. “I could kill that motherfucker!!!” You’ve got a bat in your hands and you’re waiting in an alley and then you look across the street and you see that there’s a Fashion Massage Therapist with a menu of activities. You ponder it and you realize you’ve got $40 on you. Why not pass the time with a “digital manipulation of the genitals”?

An hour later you can’t quite remember why you’re carrying a bat although you note that your anus is now a lot more stretchy than it used to be.

A murder is averted, a life is saved!

This is why we need a time machine. We need to stop history before it goes off on the wrong uptight track.

Fashion Massage! Fashion Massage! RAH RAH RAH!
Fashion Massage! Fashion Massage! SYSBOOMBAH!
YEAAAAAAAA FASHION MASSAGE!

[note: I’ve got Bugs Bunny stuck in my head all day. I hope this will help get some of those cartoons out.]

[yet another note: If Fashion Massage is regulated by the government that means that there’s a beaurocratic job where a guy has to go around inspecting workers and/or establishments. What a crazy job would that be questioning women on the proper storage, cleaning, and implementation of the “anal abuse instruments”. Imagine how silly the equivalent of the health department certification must be? The mind boggles whatever the hell that means.]