Sorry Japan, You Just Got Roasted.

Japan. Overpopulation, typhoons, nuclear reactor disasters, atomic bomb catastrophe. Cramped hotels, people living on people, rejoicing in pollution and land slides, an island that abides by self destruction, a volcano eruption, children and slaves, whipped by sixteen hour days of study...it's cruddy, soaked in the bloody and muddy, gray skies, rainy days, and dead samurais. It's not bigotry it's imagery, painted by Panadas, rice, bamboo trees, and bad days with chemistry, it's misery.

Anime poisons, more Americans than a Blowfish Roll, comatose Ginger, shit's taken it's toll. Bunch of awkward kids, and two armed squids, shitting from their mouth, wasting time at Lids, with broke out faces, permanently sealed behind parent's places, tentacles reaching into spaces grasping for Yu Gi Oh cases, but finding dead air, bouncing foreheads off LG screens and the PlayStation's glare.

God must hate Japan, and I just can't blame him, he showed a old man there the path and he claimed that God shamed him, maimed him, the emotional wreck, cried out that Judo had trained him, but life had defamed his once noble craft, so you do the math, one steel sword and one pissed off Jap, he bent over sharp with his face in his lap, would have beheaded himself if he had crafted the trap. A small island of insanity, twisted vanity and strange talent, wait for the day a unicycle is valiant, and when a balancing act is worth the practice, anywhere else but the Fallen Circus of Axis.