December 14, 2019
Not a day goes by without Japan reminding the world that they are, in fact, the Master Race and rubbing our pale gaijin faces in it.
I mean, just take a look at this:
What more is there to say here, really?
Well, actually, several questions do come to mind:
- Why are we not funding this?
- How big can we build these mechas?
- Why are the Japanese always building mechas?
I suppose Japanese people are just always going to be striving to build mechas. It cannot be explained. It is like those Germans who dig holes for themselves at the beach.
We will never understand why they do it. They will never understand why they do it. We can only watch enviously from afar…
I was fooling around on YouTube in the dead of the night when the Minotaur decided to open the gates of its labyrinth and beckoned me to enter. I knew it would be better to just shut the screen and courteously decline the invitation, and I knew it would be better to enter the labyrinth again in the morning on my own terms and with all my wits about me.
But… the Minotaur had picked its mark well. I left behind my better senses, pushed forward instead by a deeper sense of growing mystery and ancient danger. The gates did not even bother shutting behind me as I passed through – no doubt because there was no need. Say what you will about the Minotaur, but he had always been a consummate and courteous host whenever I came to visit. He knew that I wanted answers and that I would not leave until I got them. It took a few turns in the maze before I was too good and lost to even consider leaving.
There was no point in closing the gate.
The Minotaur pulled me in with its autoplay/recommended video feature. I got caught in a carefully curated cycle that I simply could not escape.
It got me thinking: what does the Minotaur created by YouTube want and why does it invite us into its lair if it does not want to reveal itself to us? If we stay in there long enough, will it finally reveal some great truth to us? Will some final hidden mural peek out from behind the ivy-covered walls with hieroglyphics that say, “this is it, you’ve done it. The Final Recommendation lies before you.”
Where are we being recommended to? What is the purpose? Why pull us in, but never tell us why?
Perhaps certain beasts only come out of their lairs at certain times. I had to take my chances and forge ahead now. But once inside though, I forgot why I had entered at all, and I began to aimlessly look around. Brushing aside the dangling ivy on the tall granite walls, I saw painted murals hidden in the foliage. The runes looked familiar:
And then the mural on the wall began to move:
Why YouTube? Why show me this? What does it mean?
As I walked further along the maze, the murals kept showing me older Japanese-made cartoons – I think the kids like to call them “animus.” To my horror, I recognized all of them. I found myself humming along with the Shaman King theme song when it came up.
It began to dawn on me what the Minotaur had been trying to tell me all this time.
I was overwhelmed and ashamed.
YouTube’s monster knew me better that I had ever known myself. Hanging my head down in shame, I whimpered out, “who am I, really?” Surrounded by the high granite walls, I threw my head backed and howled out, a desperate “WHO AM I!?” into the maze. Tears began streaming down my face because I was afraid of what I knew the answer would be, and I prayed that no one would answer.
But, sure enough, I finally felt the cold and bony hands of the Minotaur descend on my shoulder and his cold breath froze the sweat and tears on my cheek with just one breath.
I shuddered and gasped.
With a rattling rasp, he leaned in and whispered into my ear… “you… are… a… weeeeeeeeb…”
With a jolt I woke up from my phone sliding off the bed and dropping hard onto the floor. Once I wrung out the tears and saliva off my pillow, I realized that the Minotaur was right.
I’m a weeb and so is my entire generation, we’re all just in denial at this point. It took the YouTube Minotaur to explain it to me.
See, the over-worked animators in Tokyo have been communicating with us through the glowbox since we were very young. It’s really absolutely nuts just how much influence Japan has had on the generation that grew up in the 90s, and 00s. I had no idea just how much Japanese media I had consumed as a child until YouTube decided to show me and I threw in the towel on my Anime Denial. I think that there is a significant percentage of our generation that is, well, spiritually Japanese at this point.
Just think about it: while the Boomer parents were working or doing whatever it was that these people were doing, we were all being raised by the TV and by these cartoons.
What’s funny is that Japanese people were not being raised by American cartoons, let me tell you. While White people love everything coming out of Japan, they on the other hand, just sort of shrug and do their own thing when it comes to our cultural products. So you have this situation where you have an entire generation and a half raised on totally foreign cultural products – which is an incredible situation, you have to admit.
Has this ever occurred in history? I do not think so, but it’s whatever.
While this leads to a profound sense of cultural confusion in some, I think we are lucky that the Japanese are a benign peoples and that their animu has actually given an entire generation of American youth a counter-balance to what our Jewified culture was pushing at the time.
Going forward, we we must accept our inner weebs and proudly admit that we are all spiritually Japanese now.
I plan to start walking around in cat ears and maid outfits in the near future to prove my point.
We got this, kings.