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Maiyuu Maid Yuusha 2

Maoyuu’s entire selling point is ~economics with boobs~.

Add maids into the mix and everyone’s happy.

this is a picture of a witty line

Except, no, not really. Do maids have any significance in the situation’s context? They’re a good comparison of modern employment vs. serfdom but no, not really. Take away the maids and nothing’s left out. The maids are an accessory: nobody dislikes them, but they’re practically useless.
Similarly, all the fanservice around Maou is practically useless. Fanservice not being all ~boobs~, but also her moé attitudes towards Yuusha. Did we need that hour-long sofa scene? No. Did we need that hilariously dull body-pillow scene? No.

But they’re aesthetically pleasing. They’re the spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down, and the medicine is ~economix~.

Maoyuu is just a glorified economics textbook. This isn’t rocket science. Someone (can’t remember who, tell me if you remember) once said: “Spice and Wolf is about characters, with some random economics thrown in. Maoyuu is about economics, with some random characters thrown in.”

Like a textbook, the author wraps Maoyuu in bright pictures and colourful ‘real-world’ examples that drive up production costs a thousandfold. Like a textbook, Maoyuu is just a lecture transposed into another medium. Like a textbook, Maoyuu also suffers from masterful pacing: serf girl mutters, sotto voce, “You’ve never been starving, have you?” Cut to comedy music. Let’s imply that starving serfs is totally a joke! Yeah! (That said, who would want to starve half-servile labour? That’s a recipe to losing money, fast…)

Unlike a textbook, we’re not in an economics class. We don’t need to learn this. Is Maoyuu actually doing a public service? Is Maoyuu an educational anime?

Yes, yes to both. Sure, it’s patronizing 1984-ish (actually manipulating the war so that ending it will be easier?) ~COMMUNISM~ crap, but short of Moshidora, the edutainment doesn’t get much more obvious.

Maoyuu is an educational anime through and through. Nothing else.


Btooom! Manga Quarterly Review 4

Hi guys. I’m really late on this because I had this as a draft for one and a half months.

Btooom! has a manga. I’ve followed it for one and a half years.

Btooom! also has an anime. I’ve followed it for one and a half months.

Thus, if you’re following the anime, there will probably be spoilers ahead; however, this is a shounen battle manga – you know that Sakamoto’s not going to die, and spoilers shouldn’t affect you at all. Unless you’re a 14-year-old psychotic teenager with a penchant for ravishing dead bodies. In which case you might be (excusably) shocked at my profoundly astute recognition of your identity:

(That said, a 14-year-old who isn't a teenager would be quite strange...)

Teenagers AREN’T THAT SHORT»


C’est la vie

I wrote this abomination of mental diarrhea at the height of my fever-induced delerium last Wednesday; lethargy filled me from the crown to the toes, and I could do nothing but mope and whine and write. I left it on my computer in case I wanted to do something with it and decided, why the heck not: nobody’s going to read to the end anyways, so I’m just going to post it here.

In it, I somehow manage to cover all eight of my classes and their associated midterm exams/projects. If that doesn’t merit a literary achievement, it certainly was a mental one… it’s Hell Week right now for me, so this also explains the inexplicable lack of posts from my part. Mad props to redball for doing the first impressions post—solo—last week.

C’est la vie. Such is life and life is such. A life of lives lives lively. Liveishly? Livelylike? Livelily? Consider the livelilies in the field. They study not; neither do they write. So society spurns them, casts them aside. What use have we for lilies? C’est l’école. Senegal. Say lego. Lilies are unproductive. Humans would also be unproductive if we didn’t go to school. But school takes a long time and that time takes away from the time that it would take us to take a hike and make something. Few people live over a century. No lilies live over a century. We must maximize the work humans do in their lives. Each extra year of education increases productivity by 0.56. Transform into quadratic vertex form and calculate the vertex. (-b/2a, 4ac-b^2/4a) gives an optimum human productivity of x when years of education are increaseh by y. Calculate x and y in exact form.

Because we’re all just numbers, numbers in the face of the societal God that is optimization and industrialization and productifization and efficientization. We’re organic machines, vegetables to be harvested for fuel, lilies that toil in the field, spinning, spinning. Why do we work so God-approved hard? Is it worth it now? Sacrificing all those bloody midnight hours for an extra mark, that 0.56% away from getting an A, and now an entire week wasted. Everything ventured, nothing gained. Going to school at 7:00 in the morning to retake a math test because 75% just wasn’t good enough. Fuck me in the foot if I actually do better this time what with the world spinning around me as I spin and the teacher spins out another math test, a midterm this time, a midterm that I can’t retake because I already retook a test and the teacher’s too lazy to let anyone retake more than one test in a year. Anti-China policy #1: stop students from compulsively retaking tests in a futile effort to achieve more than they haven’t achieved. Am I Chinese enough now?

I blame the cold. I blame the fresh mountain air and the cool, clean breezes of trademark Vancouver Hospitality™ others call rain, liquid precipitation, the tears of God as he struggles to understand: why aren’t people being more productive? Why are so many people doing nothing in the rain? They’re just sitting there, not moving… what a waste of time! I blame the mandatory P.E. strip everybody has to wear. We had P.E. strip in elementary. The vice-principal had 13 words everybody must remember: something something be on time something something pee ee strip something something something. Memory serves me well as tennis serves me well or volleyball serves me well. Waiting outside an hour in the rain. Volleyball wasn’t outside, but for someone whose only shorts are emblazoned with the school’s currish emblem, coldness is to me as bad luck is to that girl in that anime. Which girl? Which anime? Why do anime girls never get sick despite always wearing less than I ever will?

I remember that look on the P.E. teacher? Assistant? His face when I told him I was sick this morning. “Go home! I was just sick last week! Don’t sic [sic] me again!” The verb, sic, was necessarily preferred to the adjective, sick. Which he used, I shall never know, and neither did context reveal to me. Was he a teacher or just the assistant? He seemed a sprightly young fellow, and hung out with the girls in our class. But he also lounged around the teachers’ lounge, where I found him lounging in the absence of the actual P.E. teacher who wasn’t my legal P.E. teacher, because my legal P.E. teacher was hit by a car over the summer, yet the school still decided to give her two classes in the same block to teach. She must’ve been a really good teacher to watch over two classes at once. I walk over to him during attendance as he converses with some generic girl and tell him, I’m leaving. Without missing a beat, he shoos me away with a pompous lack of reaction before catching me off-guard: “Wait, which one of them are you?”

Not, “Who are you,” but “Which one of them are you?” What did ‘them’ mean? The students? That wouldn’t make sense, because I’m none of them, I was physically separated from all of them by the direction I was in and by the condition I was in. Why ‘them’? It had to be something that included me, because I’m one of ‘them’, but didn’t include the P.E. teacher-assistant-hybrid. The P.E. assistant-teacher wasn’t a student, and he also wasn’t…

…Asian. Situated as it was, our entire school was entirely Asian, save the French Immersion minority. There were only two non-Asians in our P.E. class. Did he just refer to an entire continent of cultures as ‘them’? Could he really not tell the difference between ‘us’? The audacity of… and the tone of his voice, that half-laughing, half-mocking sneer that momentarily claimed his mouth, as if he had made a nice joke by deindividualizing the entire class he was supposed to assist-teach. It felt weird. It wasn’t like my non-Asian friends telling genuinely offensive anti-Asian jokes which should really get my blood boiling but doesn’t. Here was some stranger, directly insulting every essence of my first-world-raised being, us who are taught from birth in our ‘specialness’, how each of us is a little lily in our own special little lilyponds. Do not toil—you’re special! Do not spin. Do not pass Go. Collect $200 anyways. This wasn’t racism. This was life. C’est la vie. If this mild annoyance disturbed me like this mentally incapacitating headache, then true racism would be the chronic cancerous tumour of mental termination, an end of life as life knows it.

Then, I saw. Saw his eyes met nobody’s but his pencil, searching down the list. What did ‘them’ mean? The names. “Which one of these names are you?”

But even so, that’s all I’ve been thinking of. Why did I go to school? The response would have to be this. People would look at me disapprovingly, and when, by a stroke of fortune or a stroke of the major arteries, they themselves succumb to the disease of human incapacity, who’ll take the blame? Find the most ‘logical’ explanation. It’s common sense, right? But it’s Wednesday and on Friday, we submit our French film projects. A grand total of two scenes filmed over seven hours Sunday as I lay on the floor—the floor!—of that room with the dimmable lights and giant television set, while we waited for our camera to recharge itself. The camera was a literal potato wired up to a 4×4 red monochrome LCD display screen that approximated the red light shining backwards through the pinhole. We had four iPhone 9GS+s, but everybody was too busy playing 2004 Flash games ported to iOS.

I’d say it was all an excuse. We used ‘recharging battery’ as an excuse to not do shit. For three hours before I arrived (because nobody told me there’d be a meeting), three people did nothing but translate two scenes in already-written English into French. Each scene had three lines. One of those people was a native French speaker. I arrived, the fifth member arrived two years later, and while I lay on the warm, soft, disease-matted carpet, they clicked around on their iPhones and now I know how I got sick I know how I got sick now.

I’m a bloody idiot.

It’s due on Friday. We need to shoot eight more scenes, as well as finish writing the actual script for those scenes—in English, not French. Translating the script is another beast entirely. I know, I tried it, and promptly succumbed to a large dose of not-giving-a-fuck anymore. I have two more scenes with me in it, and then there’s dubbing the French because we shot those scenes not having translated the script yet. If we finish all that within two hours tomorrow because the only guy who knows how to edit has school plays going on every night this week from 5:30 until 10:00, then we can hand in our French project. But if I’m sick tomorrow then I’ll have to skip the next day and get a doctor’s note in the vain hope that the teacher gives us an extension instead of yelling in our faces that we should’ve started sooner WE SHOULD’VE STARTED SOONER

A lifetime of procrastination begs to differ. We should’ve started later. Look, they shot three scenes yesterday in two hours. Productivity! 3 scenes/2 hours with 4 people. Person A can shoot one scene in two hours. Person B can shoot one scene in four hours. How many hours will Person C and D take to shoot the entire movie together? The implication is that I shoot an average of negative one point two scenes every hour. Shoot. Skipping school has its advantages. If she gives us an extension, we just got three extra days. If she doesn’t, I will literally become the bloodiest of bloody pulps, the mushiest of mush, my bones ground into paste, my organs cut into bite-sized chunks, my meat stewed into gravy and served on a platter to appease Armok. Your arm OK? No soap, radio. My arm is paralyzed from the fingers down. Falling down, tripping, moving my foot up to stop the fall—wrong foot—crack. Hitting the pavement while accelerating at 9.8 metres a second. Blood red, crimson, palm not OK: four cuts, bandaid slips, too much blood. Now two warts on my fingers. Now lip bleeding. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Doctor, doctor! It’s OK, no apples here; come, Eirin, save me!

It’s midterm weak. Midterms are for the weak. The strong stay at home, lie in bed of an unknown delirium and appear all fine and well the day after the midterms to find out all their group projects have failed. Science fair? BAM! You just lost 25% from your term science mark! Planning project? BAM! You just failed the entire course because that’s the only assignment this entire term! In the teachers’ minds, spinning: “Let’s give these poor bastards more pointless projects because it’s midterm week and they need one project for every single course! That way, it’ll be a FULL-COURSE MEAL!” Strings field trip next week sounds nice, but that’s two hours of nonstop performing and lugging cousin-sized violas on ~public transit~ (poor bassists) in a class we could study in. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? This fever isn’t killing me. Am I stronger now? Can I lift, bro? Please?

The God of Blood answers from his omnipotent throne, made from the ashes of countless anvils He has wrought with his bare hands: “Has the Campbell opposition changed their stances?” It is a task, an ordeal that We must struggle through to find the light that He promises, the light of a Good Future™ where we might be Good Numbers that increase our productivity by 0.56 each year until the year of parabolic maximum. To appease the Blood God. It seems meaningless now, but someday, someone will ask you; “What do you think about the Campbell opposition during that year when they said those things?” And you might respond in the affirmative, or in the negative, and you’ll think back to those halcyon days when you were lying in bed with a fever, typing out these monotonous words while praying to God, let Him have mercy on me, let He that deals divine judgement on souls spare my marks! Take my sons, take my fathers! Leave my grades alone!

“wat a horrible time to be sick lol”
“do you have the note cards”
“o ya i should probably buy those lol”

So the God decreed, “And I shall require, on the 29th of January, a supply of note cards appropriately purchased from capitalist establishments, that one may take notes on; And notes on other media, shall by this day be—Prohibited.” Was he being sarcastic? Was he implying something there? What did the ‘lol’ mean? If he was being sarcastic, he could have not really meant ‘horrible’ and ‘sick’; maybe he thought I was faking it? For what? So I could possibly get an extension for a French project we already failed, by association with me, that failer of failures? Or was he genuinely sympathetic towards my slightly irritating plight? Regardless, I’d have to buy those note cards before I can start taking notes on that in-class essay on the 29th. Did the Campbell opposition change their stances? Tiger stance to a dragon stance?

Ineluctable modality of the audio-visual. He says these words with a digital accent, one with no sarcasm detection. We may lower-case no-punctuation caps-exclamations-maximum on twitter if we’re being sarcastic, but he cannot. The culture of texting vs. the culture of often-at-home twittering. He does not say these words, nor do I hear them. He types the words, no, the letters, on the keyboard with his fingers. He feels the words. Ineluctable modality of the sensual. Story of my life, à la Joyce. Is this how I think? Not with pictures or ideas—with words. Do you dream in words? What was the last image I image-ined?

Ulysses is a modern masterpiece. Even looking just through chapter three, you see the rich interwoven tapestry of words and language that Joyce bends to his will. He’s a master artisan that manipulates, carves, and molds language itself into expressing more than language. More than meets the eye, more than the ear hears, more than the conscious mind can ever process—Joyce paints a picture of THOUGHT itself, making his characters more than simply human. The characters become us, we become the characters as we’re literally swept into another’s shoes, and body, and mind. Have other books done this? Possibly, but none to the refined needle of trenchant wit and biting description that is Ulysses. And definitely none have its epic scope, flooded with allusions. I used to think allusions were pretentious bullshit—who cares if you’re referencing some dead white guy? But no: they add scope, each allusion is a new story that enhances a tale, and Ulysses is that tale, a tale of tales, a mundane epic about a common hero, the towering modernist achievement of the century.

Writing essays is fun when you don’t have a headache—but you need to choose a topic. That’s the hardest part, because choose a topic you don’t like, and you don’t have yourself an essay. Have another choose a topic for you, and you don’t have an author. “Compare Ulysses to the Odyssey,” so the God decreed, “Rough draft due Friday.”

Weighing the options in my head, weighing mentally a loaded die that flipped over, once, twice, heads, tails, spinning like the world around me and my head spinning around and the God of Blood weighed in with a shatter of the skull, a weight upon it that sent vibrations of nausea echoing down my throat. Consider the lilies of the field. They don’t have throats. That’s why they don’t toil. That’s why they don’t spin.

Skipping school tomorrow and the next day? Failing our French film project? Having no class time to prepare for midterm week?

C’est la vie.


Procrastination

It is a thing. I procrastinated last week, because I was paralyzed from sickness.

That didn’t turn out too well. We (two people; the third disappeared) crammed our planning project until 1:00 last night. We presented it today without rehearsing, and it turned out OK. Unfortunately, we had to hand in our socials essay notes early—otherwise, it’d be unfair to the people who have to write their essays Monday instead of Thursday.

Unfortunately, I didn’t actually have any notes. But before I could go home and start taking them, we had to finish shooting and dubbing our French film project. It was due last Friday, but we got an extension because I was sick until today.

Filming should’ve taken until 6:00, but the cameraman got the wrong extension cord, and we had to go to his house to finish dubbing. Seven hours later…

…it was 10:00 when I got home. With an entire socials essay to finish researching (including outline, bibliography, and citations!), I wanted to get to work. Instead, I’m writing this post because I’m just too goddamn tired.

Tomorrow, I have to start and finish writing an entire English essay, and study for the science unit test I missed last week. Math midterms is on Thursday. Science Fair is due on Monday, and we haven’t started that either.

See, at this time, I always tell myself: stop procrastinating! Finish all of these as soon as they’re assigned! But whenever I get the ‘don’t procrastinate’ feeling… I’m too busy. I never feel busy when the due dates aren’t rushing up at me. All of these were assigned before winter break; yet, I didn’t start until now.

How do you guys deal with procrastination? Do you just roll with it anyways? I know many students just push everything to the last day, and we end up only mildly unscathed… but it surely isn’t the best way to go about it.

The whole point of this post was to tell you: save some homework-related ramblings I wrote and will publish tomorrow, I’m pretty much dead this week. Expect complete radio silence.


If Maoyuu were a JRPG 1

What will MAOU do? [FIGHT, POKéMON, BAG, RUN]

MAUO used ATTRACT! YUUSHA fell in love.

Foe YUUSHA used atTRAP! YUSHA is no longer in love! YUSHA is no longer male!

If Maoyuu were a JRPG 1 - rejection

Thanks for the image.

Imagine if Maou were a evil zombie robot demon from hell who eats babies and farts death and disease. Would Yuusha still befriend him? Would they still work together? Would people still watch it?

I mean, c’mon, honestly why did Yuusha not kill Maou the moment she declared her identity? It wasn’t her calmness or willingness to bargain—it was ~boobs~

~boobs~ saved the world.

P.S. it’d actually be pretty funny if Maou were an evil zombie robot demon and Yuusha befriended… it. +1 would kickstart


Soumoe of the Beer Halberd 6

I can’t tell whether this is mocking traditional shounen tests or what because why the hell do you need a test to enter a dormi-oh right she’s insane. and moe. the simpsons moe.

IP

Having him enter a student dorm is about the laziest way to introduce more quirky characters (cause everybody else is normal/rich and rich people aren’t fun to be around) ever. The only thing worse is if some autismal savant came into the picture and trust me that was baaaaaaaaaaaddd. d d d. d.

It’s also a convenient way to shape Megumi into becoming a childhood-friend-type, but she should have friends after three years in middle school, compared to Souma, whom nobody likes. Or licks.

if god is omnipresent then

god’s tongue

is watching

YOU

ah

P.S. I didn’t need to see that pirate picture at the end. Nor the granny flashback. At least the metaphor was a flashback and not… what it usually is ._.

P.P.S. There was relatively less fanservice here than before. I guess the shower scene was supposed to be humorous at first but now, I really don’t understand why anybody would add one except because it’s such an ingrained anime icon. It’s really just pervasive and customary toilet humour.

P.P.P.S. Souma is secretly a GT Robo. his only energy source is the souls of dead squids. when he bleeds he bleeds black ink


12 Chapters of Manga—Christmas Edition

So the previous venture failed pretty badly, having only written eight posts yesterday. No more of the stupid chronicling thing anymore, here’s a list of rewritten manga posts:

(Adding four onto yesterday’s eight, making twelve):
These are all from Shokugeki no Souma—after all, this is a manga-rewriting post! also because manga posts are the easiest to write although they still take me half an hour each why why WHY

  1. Chapter 2 is about PLEBEIANS and how Souma’s exaggerated art is comparable to Hyouge Mono’s;
  2. Chapter 3 is about LEBEIANS and how Souma’s exaggerated meatphors are NOT comparable to the Legend of Koizumi’s (although I just compared them…);
  3. Chapter 4 is about ASIANS and how competition and stupid shounen level-ups are the only way to write a shounen manga;
  4. Chapter 5 is about BADASSES and how Souma is one. Also how Shounen Jump HAS NO WIMPS except in harems in which case they are invariably wimps.

Chapter 6’s post is scheduled for tomorrow (read: today) because it was just released and I have nowhere else to publish it. WE’RE GETTING THERE, O-NEW; 81 posts to go…

  1. Chapter 24 is about bad Indonesian editors and how ‘quotation mark’ abuse doesn’t make any ‘sense’ in ‘English’;
  2. I’m not sure what chapter 25 is about but I guess it was aliens???
  3. Chapter 26’s post is about twenty-six words long. If each word were five letters long, I could fit that in a tweet!
  4. Chapter 27’s post is about two words longer than Chapter 26. Ditto about the tweeting thing;
  5. Chapter 28 is about SCIENCE and how ST&RS is NOT SCIENCE enough. Also how ST&RS is moe and that’s the only reason I’m reading it anymore. It’s not a very good reason.

Chapter 29 and 30’s posts are scheduled (read: I lost motivation and stopped reading) for sometime this month. 76 more posts… I guess I’ve failed once again. Just five posts today, for a total of seventeen… here’s my final string of posts before I collapse of exhaustion:

Good news: there was a slight comeback in views for yesterday, though not the infinity% increase I expected (cause we posted 8 posts yesterday vs. no posts for the eight days before)!

…diminishing returns not worth it arghhhh it’s over though.

School starts on Monday, expect us to decline to our usual inactivity then.


12 Days of Christmas—Rewritten Edition

tl;dr: I’m going to post 12 posts today.

As most of you know, O-New prides ourselves on having posted once every day for the past two-and-a-bit years. Needless to say, this is all a silly ruse. All two hundred and twenty-five of those posts were published posthumously; that is to say, I edited the publishing date so it merely /looked/ like we posted once every day for the past two-and-a-bit years.

“What’s the difference between posting extra posts in the past and scheduling them for the future?” nobody will ask their monitors. To put it simply: procrastination. We actually have a tag for my scheduled posts (nobody else’s, cause redball & co. regularly schedule their posts). There are only 37.

Unfortunately, all those were lies too. Even rewriting history wasn’t enough. We still have
2 empty days in 2010, 13 empty days in 2011, and…

93 empty days in 2012.

Find the geometric sequence!»


Life is a Bus Ride to Nowhere

I can’t find anything to write about so I guess this is an essay maybe sorta yeah. I haven’t written anything for too long and I don’t know how to write anymore cause all I’ve written is bad high school essays that are boring and bad and nobody will read them. You’ll see the tone change dramatically in this post because I just need to get rid of this writer’s block… I think it was a pretty fun experiment. I feel a lot more in ‘the (blogging) groove’ now.

I will develop it in TRADITIONAL ESSAY FORM; that is, thesis, three body paragraphs, and conclusion. This way I practice the art of Formulaic Essay Writing. Because the structure’s entirely devoid of all creativity, we can use this creativity to… oh, no, you can’t, because you have to follow your outline.

Well, here’s my outline.

Introduction (with !~THESIS STATEMENT~!)
Snow sucks
Buses suck
Crashes suck
everything sucks

I suck lollipops»


ST&RS 30

What a way to start off the new year! The symbolism behind rewriting a ST&RS post for New Year’s is that at O-New, the new year’s going to bring upon us the same fate as ST&RS: a slow, painful death from neglect, disinterest, and creative stagnation!

Here’s a picture of Shirafune farting.

warning: explicit sexual imagery ahead

The symbolism is that I’m an old fart»


Souma of the Food Odyssey 5

Souma is the most badass generic shounen protagonist of all time. His name really fits his stoned nature because souma sounds like soma sounds like somn- and that’s what somnifacient somnolent somnambulists do—sleep, drugs, and smoke weed every day.

seriously in every single frame he is stoned like in Brave New Soma. ten bucks says he doesn’t even know how to cook—he’s doing it all in his sleep. AND HE NEVER WOKE UP

This is how you make a protagonist. He’s not ordinary at all. Nobody can relate to his experiences. But his lower-class background appeals to everybody, and instead of being some untouchable moral model on a pedestal he’s arrogant as hell. WHICH MAKES HIM BADASS.

He’ll probably outgrow his hubris as he goes on ~an odyssey~ of food akin to Toriko’s adventures i-no

uwaan uwaaan ruuuu

P.S. his catchphrase translation makes it really lame. no scratch that the entire translation is really lame. but that only makes the story funnier—it wasn’t much!


Steins;Gate: Boukan no Rebellion 16

The timeline is still really strange in Steins;Gate. How can Rintarou get the IBN5100 if he’s already met Suzuha? Think about it:

Iimeline 1:
1975: nothing happens
2010a: Rintarou doesn’t have the IBN5100
2010b: nothing happens
2012: SERN takes over world
2038: Suzuha goes to 2010b, creating Timeline 2
20XX: world at peace

Timeline 2:
1975: nothing happens
2010a: Rintarou doesn’t have the IBN5100
2010b: Suzuha goes to 1975, creating Timeline 3
2012: SERN takes over world
2038: Suzuha goes to 2010b, creating Timeline 4 (which is the same as Timeline 2)

Timeline 3:
1975: Suzuha gets the IBN5100
2010a: Rintarou has the IBN5100
2010b: nothing happens
2012: nothing happens
2038: nothing happens
20XX: world is free

The key point is that when Suzuha goes back to the past in 2010b and in 2038, her two travels make two different timelines. The line that would lead to their success is created when she travels back to 1975. There’s no reason why her travel back to 2010b takes her to the same timeline. Then again, a story about Timeline 3 would be as boring as watching paint grow on a grassy wall, so it’s forgiven.

mudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamudamuda

P.S. What is Reading Steiner? If anybody stuck their memories in the time machine, they would be able to retain their memories through world lines—because it’s not their bodies travelling through time, it’s the information. If, say, Mayuri used the time machine to implant Rintarou’s future memories into herself, she’d not only travel through time, but would inherit a different identity! That would’ve been an interesting device for, say, Kokoro Connect…


Souma of the Asian Halberd 4

Ah, competition. It’s funny because this school really isn’t about learning—just like universities. If people didn’t need degrees to get a good job, would any non-academics go to university? It’s all about the prestige of graduating—and the fewer people who graduate from your institute there are, the more prestigious their status becomes.

also it’s the only way to write a shounen manga so

-uma»


Steins;Gate: Boukan no Rebellion 15

The greatest part of Steins;Gate was its climax, when Rintarou did all sorts of crazy shit and it all connected back to the beginning like some bizarre circular argument typical of time-bending tales.

The greatest part of Boukan no Rebellion is its climax, when Daru did all sorts of crazy shit and it all connected back to… things.

What I’m going at is, Boukan no Rebellion focuses on Suzuha and so her most emotional moment was finding her father. Mayuri’s train of logic was executed well and there was no dearth of cheesy/teary goodbyes, so I guess it was a good scene.

That is, IF THE ART WEREN’T SO *~QUALITY~*

HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU HASHIDA ITARU


Goblin Christmas

Goblin Christmas is the wonderful time of the year when a vile force of darkness arrives. All the good little dwarves stay underground while Goblin Claus leaves his treats in the trap-lined entrance to the fortress.

In the morning, when the all-clear is sounded, everyone rushes to the entryway, and gathers up the Goblinite for melting and the silk socks for decorating the magma fireplace.”

It would’ve been such a merry day…

…if I had raised the upper fortress bridge in time.

This nurse actually killed a goblin crossbowman when none of my regulars did, though...

Three words: too much eggnog»


Souma of the LEBEIAN Halberd 3

The fanservice is pretty creative, but Koizumi’s epic mahjong hands are more grandiose and less metaphorical. Really, all you get with Souma’s metaphors is the taster’s feelings, whereas Koizumi’s metaphors are anything he wants. Siberian bullet trains. American freedom bombings. WWII operation re-enactments. The pope, being tempted by a metaphor of ADOLF HITLER AS THE DEVIL INCARNATE.

Nevertheless, Souma’s food explanations are better, namely because Koizumi has dogs to do with food. Better than Toriko’s, though, cause the food is actually real. Reminds me of Addicted to Curry’s actual curry recipes; I guess the writer has to be an actual good chef. Maybe he went to chefing school or something to learn how to chef, or maybe he chefs a chief chefing consultant to chef that everychef’s alchef.

breaking news: scanlators fail grammar

I hope not everybody in the academy’s as spoiled as Nikaidou, though I also hope he reappears if only to randomly shout ‘LEBEIAN’ at important intersections. goddamn lebeians and their UNNATURAL behaviour. they should practice lebeiancy in private, not in the eyes and ears of innocent schoolechildrian. i don’t know what i’m saying but mitt romney opposes homo milk and I drink homo milk every single day

P.S. Erina is mean. tasukete erina


O Hero, Where Art Thou Now?: Odysseus in a Modern Context

[We read the Odyssey in English class, and had to write a variety of assignments (ok, fine, just two) on it. One of these assignments was a comparative essay, in which students could choose their thesis, yet on the criteria sheet, ‘all students must use the same thesis’. The thesis in question was that an old Coen Brothers’ comedy (O Brother, Where Art Thou?), loosely based on the Odyssey, represents Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey.

I thought the Hero’s Journey was just some old man saying that all cultures’ hero stories had a beginning, a middle, and an end. He also claimed that these stories reflected humanity’s ‘collective unconscious’, and that people like to hear stories with beginnings, middles, and ends. Although it seems obvious to us, it is pretty coincidental and influential in studying comparative mythology and evolutionary psychology. Yet, I thought that the Hero’s Journey structure offered no insights into modern ‘heroes’ journeys’.

This jaded me immensely, and like the contrarian hipster I am, I decided to advocate for the Devil. The result is below; formatted, but unedited. If it seems to jump around in places, it’s because I condensed it to one page of 1000 words, ‘for the lulz’. I like it, but I still haven’t gotten my grade back, and I have the feeling that my English teacher won’t like people casting the Hero’s Journey aside…]

In the 1988 PBS documentary The Power of Myth, mythologist Joseph Campbell talks of his theory: a universally archetypal Hero’s Journey originating from the fundamental human psyche. The Hero’s Journey’s plot points, although useful for comparative mythology, are too generic. To differentiate Heroes’ Journeys from regular Journeys, Heroes’ Journeys must star a hero with heroic traits, deeds, and growth.

Ancient poet Homer’s Odyssey is about protagonist Odysseus’s voyage home from the Trojan War. Although contemporary Greeks heroized Odysseus, in a modern/Roman context, he possesses few heroic requirements. The Coen Brothers’ modern film O Brother, Where Art Thou?’s protagonist Ulysses represents Odysseus, and also lacks these requirements.

Neither O Brother, Where Art Thou?, nor its hypotext, the Odyssey, represent the Hero’s Journey.

Click on this hyper-text to read on»


The Second Coming

On December 21st, 2012, the 13th Mayan Long Count b’ak’tun will end, exactly 1,872,000 days after the creation of the world on August 11th, 3114 BCE. It is the end of an old cycle, and the start of a new. Five b’ak’tuns before, Jesus Christ ascended to heaven.

What does this mean? The end of the world is not the end: it is the beginning.

The eve before Southern solstice, the NASDAQ Stock Market and the New York, London, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Toronto, Bombay, and Taiwan Stock Exchanges will simultaneously collapse as over 50% of investors scramble to exit the market in time for armageddon. The day will pass; nothing will happen, but the world will plunge into economic chaos, creating a global, decades-long depression greater than the Great one.

Amidst this chaos, a son will be born. And his name shall be Wonderful Counsellor, because he will become the world’s most prominent stock broker by trade. However, a Chinese communist propaganda minister will cross paths with him and indoctrinate him with purifying baptization into the glorious mother country or something. I don’t care if baptization isn’t a word and that you can’t baptize someone into a glorious mother country shut up

A rich mafia gangster will bribe the young… guy (no, his name isn’t actually ‘Wonderful Counsellor’) with wealth beyond his imagination; however, he will resist temptation because he’s communist and what’s money?

Then he’ll go around places and make people communist because capitalism killed the world. However, the politicians won’t believe a word he’ll say, and will soon enough inflict calvary incarnate upon his poor commie body. Then he’ll be like ‘hey I’m actually jesus reincarnated’, but nobody will believe him because Matthew 24:36.

THEN THE SKY WILL RIP OPEN AND GOD WILL BE LIKE ‘hey yo guys that’s Jesus ok’ and some people will be communist and eventually take over the entire world. Unfortunately, five b’ak’tuns later, people stop caring about economic beliefs in the new era of SCIENCE and vow to separate state from school. or something this sounded better at the dinner table


ST&RS 29

TWIST ENDING: I’m not saying it was aliens, but ALIENS

This cliffhanger is like a double-crossing cheat begging for one more chance after casting aside all your wishes, hopes, dreams, and desires, crying, “Just wait! You have to see this!” at the feet of its disgusted yet poisoned patrons—poisoned by the sin of curiosity, overwhelming all logic and reason by wonder at this final twist of twists, turn of turns:

just how moe will this alien be

P.S. For those who aren’t reading ST&RS: you’re missing nothing. It’s a manga about some teenagers who want to go into space. Originally, I thought there’d be tons of cool futuristic hard science space training and drama but instead, TIMESKIP TIMESKIP. Can’t blame the author for drawing a space manga for Jump of all magazines… of course it was cut. Actually wait no BLAME THE AUTHOR WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA


Souma of the PLEBEIAN HALBERD 2

IS THIS HYOUGE MONO REDUX

let’s see:

food porn – check
actual porn – check
awesome faces – check
PLEBEIANS – check
typical generic sexist shounen bakuman protagonist-incentive-object – not quite, she’s a tsundere ojou-sama too, and that takes a lot more creativity tha-

wait a minute hyouge mono didn’t have that

PLEBEIANS

BY ALL COUNTS SOUMA OF THE PLEBEIAN HALBERD IS THE BETTER STORY

P.S. doesn’t beat legend of koizumi in terms of ‘faces teleported to outlandish situations’

P.P.S. ‘god’s tongue’ sounds like a really bad nickname only eroge artists would conjure


An Exercise in Recursion

Remember NaNoWriMo? Yeah, it ended. You should be done your 50k-word novel by now, like I did.

Except not really. Turns out I’m about 300 words short.

I sincerely apologize for the misleading preamble I previously prefixed to the preceding presented post. I believe I accidentally calculated for nine repetitions of the story when there should only have been eight.

Furthermore, in the same post, I had mentioned that one answer was incorrect for not being ‘had had’ because the dream in the first iteration happened before a past event. That is not true: the answers are incorrect because the James and John on their test wrote their test in a flashback (i.e. before a past action).

For these and similar transgressions I offer you this token of apology, crafted from a chain of fine bone teeth structures of an extremely bizarre nature, for they are simultaneously bones and teeth

P.S. Did you know: the word count of that post is an exponential function, increasing by a factor of approximately three every iteration

P.P.S. Did you know: I hate math

P.P.P.S. Did you know: this was what O-New articles were like in 2010. And 2011. And 2012.


Report Cards

My planning teacher inexplicably bumped me up 0.8% to an A. My math teacher likewise augmented my academic standing 3% to an A.

Today’s topic is grade inflation. THIS IS GRADE INFLATION AND I’M LOVING IT


ST&RS 28

TWIST ENDING: WORLD ENDS DECEMBER TWENTY-FIRST,

no no no no no no no I wrote ten mouretsu pirates posts on this

in no gravity

hair does not flow down

also the ship can’t possibly be spinning because everybody’s floating

I THOUGHT YOU WERE A SCIENCE, ST&RS

YOUR SOLE SOUL-REDEEMING TRAIT HAS DISAPPEA-hey look moe heads

...never mind


Shokugeki no Souma 1

So… as you might have noticed, we have a dearth of posts at O-New, especially manga posts. In fact, our last manga post was written four months ago.

BACK TO WEEKLY BLOGGING WEEKLY SHOUNEN JUMP’S WEEKLY NEW MANGA that’s bound to fail because I’m blogging it. Unlike previous past preceding prior serialized shounen series, this concept is actually new and may possibly survive past its 26th chapter.

of course there's fanservice in cooking manga cough cough addicted to curry cough cough

Hahahah-no»