Tokyo Damage Report

Kenzaburo Oe on USA’s 9/11

I know it's weird to post chapter 3 of a book before I post chapters 1 and 2.
But – I'm in the middle of translating Kenzaburo Oe's banned book DEATH OF A POLITICAL YOUTH  (aka part two of Seventeen, which I previously translated and posted).
 
Chapter 3 of the book is a fictional account of a 1962 Hiroshima anti-nuclear-bomb rally which gets fucked up by right-wingers . . . . and in terms of strategy, tactics, and farcical-ness, it has like a 99% overlap with and the real-life bullshit that's going down right now at NYC's 9/11 events  RIGHT NOW. . . .SIXTY YEARS AFTER OE WROTE HIS NOVEL!!!!!!!!!111
 
. . .seriously it's mind-blowing, It's like Oe saw that shit coming. 
 
They say that America nowadays is so fucked that it put satirists out of business, but if you satirize something 60 years in advance, I think you're grandfathered in like a model T with no seat-belts.
 
This shit is too good to wait, so I'm posting it now:
 

 
 
DEATH OF A POLITICAL YOUTH:
CHAPTER THREE
 
In summer, my “internal golden Emperor” began to manifest himself furiously! As hot as the most blistering summer day was, I was hotter. In the cities and suburbs,  the Patriotic Youth Corps stuffed ourselves into our thick battle uniforms and roasted our heads in our steel helmets, the sweat stinging our skin, our hands tightly grasping our clubs. . . and then we set out from Tokyo. It was August, the anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima, and we had to protect it from those left-wingers.
 
Even as we disembarked from the steaming train, Hiroshima was already hot. The sky blazed with an almost un-natural blueness. The clouds flitting across it had the same un-natural quality, as if I was looking at an inorganic photograph. For that matter, the buildings, the rivers, the ground, and even summer itself seemed devoid of life. The only living things were the people, who streamed by, steaming like locomotives against this static background. Especially, the survivors of the atomic bomb, they seemed to have sweat flying off of their whole bodies, as if their very existence was an extreme life.
 
On the night-train over, us young troops had discussed things: “Hiroshima, you can get good oysters there, I hear!” “What the?? You’re a hick from a broke family, how are you going to pretend that you’re a gourmet? Even us fearless uyoku don’t eat no damn oysters in August! Even Hiroshima natives have to be very careful with those damn oysters in damn August! Can you imagine, surviving the damn atomic bomb, only to be killed by a damn oyster?!?”
 
 
 
As we left the station, I took a long look at Hiroshima: the flocks of people, ekeing out a precarious existence, desperately clinging to life, gave them a fierce vitality. When I considered that these people had survived an actual bomb, it made me physically nauseous, to the back of my chest: they’re here, right in front of my eyes! As I thought about this, we organized our marching formations, and set off, shouting, “Oppose the Communism Which Is Dressed In The Disguise Of The ‘Big Peace Rally’!!” “Repulse the red invasion of Japan!”
As we began to march, I began to get worked up with “midsummer excitement.” And as the enemies appeared in front of us, my excitement grew hotter than the midsummer pavement. The Young Patriots Activity Squad was on the march! Holding our national flag and our Imperial Way flags high, with three cars full of Party officials leading the way! From the cars’ loudspeakers blared all the hits: the Battleship March, the Patriotic Marching Tune, the Young Mens’ Song, and Across The Sea. While the music speakers screaming at maximum volume, the other speakers (broadcasting the Party Minister for National Affairs’ speech) had naturally to be also cranked to full volume, to keep up: “Citizens of Hiroshima City, hear our complaint! The so-called “big peace rally” is leading you down the Communist path! The left-wing “country-ruining-squad” is trying to shove their politics down your throat! The Red conspirators are numerous! They pose as sincere folks who want to help the regular Japanese, but they have Red tendencies! This “big piece rally” is nothing but the work of Moscow, trying to soften us up before their invasion! The so-called “peace movement” activists  just want to disarm us so we can’t fight back! Citizens of Hiroshima, don’t be fooled by their disguises! Listen to this, the dearest wish of us sincere patriots: hear our voice kudasaaaaaaaiiiii!!!!!!!!”
 
As we marched, we waved paper flyers of red and blue, with the slogans “Oppose the Communism Which Is Dressed In The Disguise Of The ‘Big Peace Rally’!!” and “Repulse the Red Invasion of Japan!!” printed in big black letters. The people stopped, dumbstruck, to watch us. They were curious, and chattered among themselves, but were afraid to reach out to us. So we began to throw the flyers, scattering them far and wide, sending them dancing in the wind. We threw so many, we wound up trampling many under our own feet: “Oppose the Farcical ‘Big Peace Rally’!!” and “Repulse the Red Invasion of Japan!!”
 
 
 
Suddenly we could feel the presence of the enemy. We tensed, preparing for battle, instantly dropping all of our flyers. Ahead of us we saw a giant building. The voice on the loudspeaker stopped ranting to the Hiroshima people, and instead addressed us, the members of the Patriotic Youth Corps: “Between the Hiroshima Baseball Field and the Children’s Culture Center is an open field. Watch it carefully! That’s where the National Student Alliance is preparing for tomorrow’s peace rally, making their plackards. You, the patriotic young men of Japan, take care of them!"
 
 
 
We rushed ahead of the Party leaders’ cars, to find that yes, next to the Children’s Culture Center was a field with more than fifty people milling around. jeering us, yelling insults which reached our ears, screaming with inflamed passions through their megaphones at us. Suddenly, from behind, loud enough to deafen us, came the reply from our leaders: “Reactionaries, they call you! Thugs, they call you, the patriotic young men of Japan! These National Student Alliance guys are calling you shameless gangsters! Patriotic young men of Japan, are you going to let these pawns of the Red Chinese jeer at you?
 
 
 
At this, we went berserk with rage and charged at them. Tear down their plackards!  “Overthrow the Cabinet?” Fuck you! (boom). “Abolish the Performance Evaluations for Teachers?” Fuck you! (boom). “Smash Imperialism?” Fuck you! (boom). “Don’t Consent To The Military Alliance With America?” Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Smash everything on this fucking field!  Stomp on all 4,000 of the National Student Alliance kids!!! You won’t forgive the atomic bombings? Fuck you! You want them to apologize TWICE??? Are the ashes of death too much for you?? Fuck you! Tear up their flyers! You think we’re reactionaries? Out-of-date? Our movie has just begun! With an ass-kicker in the lead role, and a close-up of your scared little student eye getting punched the fuck in!  Girl students trying to run away, we’ll grab you by the hair! The background of the scenes: just screaming! Kyaaaaaaaa!!! Aaaahhhh!!!!   The camera follows our prey in a long shot, as we chase him into a corner of the meeting-hall . It cuts to his POV as our clubs bludgeon his face! In fact, let’s attach the camera to his actual head for maximum realism! What? That asshole, how dare he hide behind a damn camera??? Let’s rip it off his head and stomp on it with the full weight of our body! It makes a satisfying noise as it breaks. Now we’re running towards the podium. We see the boquet, the flowers arranged in the shape of a dove, which the students have hung from the ceiling. We leap up and cut the cord with a knife! Abruptly, the dove begins to sing a joyous heavy metal tune! The stupid students quake with fright!! The sky above us coalesces into giant black clouds, which crash down upon us. GUWANN!! GUWARANNNNNN!!!!
 
 
 
At high noon in the big city, a flood of police sirens washes in upon us from all directions. I ran to the exit of the meeting-hall, to find one of our guys who was being surrounded by the students, punching and kicking him: the NSA counter-offensive had begun. There were three students blocking my path, so I made to go around them. They were wearing workman’s clothes with “Tokyo University” patches helpfully sewn on them. Screaming with all my strength, I assaulted them with my wildly swinging club. GON, GON, GUSHARI! A faint pink mist of blood blew in the wind. Their faces purple with rage and terror, a flock of NSA students advances on me. A close-up of my face fills the screen. I am punching and being punched, kicking and being kicked, lost in a frenzy of battle. I’m knocked down, dragged, and get back up again and again, hitting and being hit, moaning in pain and making my enemies likewise moan, then being knocked down again. The head of the gang which is surrounding me, let’s do a close-up on him. But wait- the camera’s zoom seems to be broken.  Time stands still for an instant, then fades to black. Aah, my Emperor! Aah, I’ve been killed. Aah, my Emperor! As the screen once again brightens, we see a large crowd of policemen. The camera is supposed to do a close-up of their peering faces, but zooms in too close, as if to slap the cheek of this swarthy-skinned officer. He says, in a very police-like voice: “Think he’ll wake up? They did him up pretty bad! Those fucking student punks!” At that, the screen jumps into focus on the officer’s kind and sympathetic face. Although it seems that I can only see the screen with one eye! As if from somewhere else, I hear my voice speaking, narrarating the movie: “Aah, my Emperor, you didn’t abandon me! My Emperorrrrrr…”
 
The heat, the agony, the un-natural, inorganic brightness, the stink of sweat, the screaming, the polluted air in my nostrils. . .all these things together . . . I was recovering from them. The movie began to disappear from inside my head, and the real Hiroshima of August began to re-appear once more. I looked at my hand, and saw a mass of blood and hair in my palm:  The policeman said, “That’s not your blood OR your hair!”
 
I slowly shoved the hand into my pants pocket, and responded in a virtuous and modest young-man’s voice: “Thank you for looking after me. I think I can walk by myself. Although I have been brutalized, I will seek revenge on my own. I don’t want to trouble you virtuous police officers, who are so busy dealing with these communists who have come to destroy your city. Excuse me, may I rejoin my parade now?”
 
 
 
My perfect Tokyo accent made this young, provincial policeman hesitate for a second, but then his cheeks reddened and he said with a wry laugh, “Go on then! You can walk by yourself, can’t you. They really beat you bad, didn’t they? Those fuckin’ NSA goons. Crazy fucks!”
 
I exited the building between two lines of NSA kids, their chests thrust out, standing at attention. It was kind of like being a celebrity making a grand appearance, except instead of applauding, the kids were muttering insults under their breath. Once outside, the hot sun’s rays flooded me as I spotted my fellows, who were re-organizing into ranks to resume the parade.
 
Standing by the Hiroshima Baseball field, our troops greeted my arrival with a huge, delirious ovation, as if the Hiroshima Giants had won the Japan Cup. The NSA kids lapsed into a despondent silence, standing in the ruined doorway of their Meeting Hall. This seemed the proper way for them to see us off on the next leg of our march. The sun, it seemed, had not moved even one inch since we begun our march, hanging in the sky as eternal as The Emperor himself.
 
“Citizens of Hiroshima! Aah! We’ve got a complaint! The National Student Alliance are Red insurgents! They have provoked us with their challenges! This Red Terror Squad, as is its usual M.O., has spread its Red violence even in Hiroshima! On this sacred day when you remember your sadness, mourn your dead, and pray for their happiness in the next life! On this day of all days, when you want peace and tranquility to comfort the spirits of your dead family members, the NSA comes to turn your town into a battlefield in their so-called ‘class struggle.’ Ohhh!!!!
 
 
"We understand this is a solemn and holy occasion! We understand the importance of spirituality and traditions to the real Japanese people! The sacred ways which we Japanese have practiced forever! But these reds just use this holiday as an excuse to bring up unrelated political points, like overthrowing the Cabinet! They’re politicizing a sacred occasion! They’re trampling on our sacred occasion!  These reds!  They’re so deluded, they even picked a fight with us at their own Big Peace Rally! Everyone says that the mass media is egging on violence – “showdown” this and “final conflict” that – but in fact, today we ourselves chose to fight back! So now, citizens of Hiroshima, let us pay our respects to the deceased. Pray with us, Hiroshima! Praaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy!!!”
 
 
An airplane was circling low in the sky, with an intimidating roar, we continued to scatter our flyers of red and blue, with the slogans “Oppose the Communism Which Is Dressed In The Disguise Of The ‘Big Peace Rally’!!” and “Repulse the Red Invasion of Japan!!” printed in big black letters. We swung our heads skywards to see the plane, and found that it was trailing the Japanese Flag behind it, supporting us. The plane dipped its wings in greeting, in the un-natural deepening blue of the sky. The sunlight was painful to our eyes, when suddenly the sky turned from blue to a deep azure color, and then to darkness!
 
In the business district, we again came to blows, this time with the propaganda unit of the left-wingers.
 
 
 
One of our Party members tried to jump on their “propaganda car”, and they ganged up on him. So of course we had to call reinforcements of our own to save him, and then we heard sirens of the police cars again. That’s when we heard the news: coming from Hiroshima Station, an unlicensed, “wild-cat” demonstration of NSA kids had encircled City Hall. Excited to the limit, we formed ranks and began to run double-time to the open plaza in front of City Hall! It was truly a summer of verbal abuse, rage, and mayhem, and we were not going to be the first to back down! The reds had invaded one of the most sacred religious ceremonies of Real Japanese People, and we would defend it to the last! The Youth Action Squad of the Imperial Way Party was hotter than the hottest summer day, hotter than the summer sun, pumped to the breaking point and ready to explode!!! Just as the City Hall came into view; just as we began to hear the jeers and boos from the NSA “wild-cat” demonstrators, I recalled the earlier, dramatic days of violence at the Diet Building, and was possessed by the same spirit once again: uplifted with the joy of the rapist, the magnificent heat, the deep orgasm which consumed both my spirit and my flesh. Suddenly I began running even faster, lost in a fearful fugue, panting and gnashing my teeth, “Aah, Emperor! My Emperor, aah, aaaaahhh!!!”
 

WTF was that fucking uncanny or what?

Stay tuned for the entire translation of DEATH OF A POLITICAL YOUTH , probably next month. This shit is forbidden to be published in Japan, and there are no English translations anywhere.  Fuck 'em all! They can't tell you what to read and not read! And  a big fuck you to all the media assholes who give any airtime to anti-mosque dipshits when there are millions of people out of work, losing their homes, under crippling debt, who get no air-time at all.

Suck my left titty, you crybabies! Kenzaburo Oe owned your asses!

 

11 comments

11 Comments so far

  1. Alex September 14th, 2010 8:03 am

    Uncanny indeed.  I actually live a couple blocks below the WTC site, and elected to avoid the streets on the 11th for the better part of the day to avoid potential crazies rallying, heh.  Looking forward to the other chapters, definitely enjoyed Seventeen!

  2. Pierre-Juan September 14th, 2010 10:31 pm

    And Alex, what did you see there that day? I'm very curious.
    Fake videos,
    No plane,
    No victims.
    http://www.septemberclues.info
    http://www.septemberclues.info/vicsims.htm
    "Our latest research in 2009 has brought us to a series of remarkable discoveries in the collection of victim stories. What began as an insightful look at the CNN.com 9/11 Victim Memorial, the original source of the death reports, turned into realization after realization that the entire body of victims – from the airplanes, to the Pentagon, to the World Trade Center – had all been created at the same time by an "identity generating" software program which creates 'digital' people with (oft improbable) fictitious names. Anyone armed with a little patience and a discerning attitude should be able to realize that the CNN Victim Memorial is a preposterous list of counterfeit identities. As a result, the full extent of the 9/11 simulation – heroes, victims and villains – is revealed as the absurd, fabricated drama that it is."

  3. admin September 16th, 2010 12:47 am

    @pierre-juan: man, don’t kid around. Nobody’s here making fun of the Madrid bombings.

  4. Pierre-Juan September 16th, 2010 1:35 am

    Hey hombre, que tal todo? que pasa con el 9/11?

    Jez, you think I've been around all that time? I'm serious man.And absolutely sane. Wanna talk about the Madrid bombings? same ! 7/7 pseudo-bombings in London? same ! october 2002, Bali club bombings? same ! all the fuckin' same, all staged and absolute false flag attacks. The major difference being that as for the Madrid train bombings, the CIA-whatever-the-name-you-given-them did kill a bunch of innocent people.Same in Bali 2002, with about 80 australians victims (why killing their allies then? well, back in 2002, the Australian governement was clearly against this war against terrorism bullshit, and guess what, the tragic day that followed the Bali club bombings, the Australian officials made a radical change into their geo strategical policy , screaming out loud "we must stop and erase that insane fanatic terrorism", and guess what, Australia joined the evil occidental forces in their fake attempt to democratize the whole fucking oriental world).Innocent people also died on the 7/7 bombings in London.

    I mean, do you really think I would keep posting these kind of things just to sound pathetically hilarious?.

    I've been researching those issues since a while now, and the only and trustworthy place I can recommend you to go is on the September Clues Info web site (especially the research forum where I regularly try to bring my own research contribution).

    I'm trying to figure out how I can treat this topic differently so that it won't bring the usual Wooo oooo rationale.i really don't know how to make myself clear.

    Again, what happened during that day in Manhattan is an entire staged event.Well planned in advance, with lots of floppy moments.And verifiable.
    Computer generated images and videos, no air plane (nowhere), fake victims (if you wanna to get a good proof for this, you can check the research forum's team best probable best effort to date here http://www.septemberclues.info/vicsims.htm). Fake victims, fake listings, and the ugliest truth being payed actors to keep spreading the lie.

    I do know.It does sound big, irrelevant, inconsistent…i know that.

    Then, it's up to all of us…I remember you telling me about a probable Saudi arabian implication into these pseudo terrorist acts. I respect your opinion. I won't try to convince anyone else on this topic since it generally leads to some unbreakable misunderstandings.
     

  5. sephim September 16th, 2010 3:32 am

    As somebody who saw the Bali bombings and thought "This is why goths shouldn't be allowed to work in television, not just on Australia's Funniest Home Video's" all I can say about the theories you're presenting is…"
    <thirty second long giant fart noise>

  6. Pierre-Juan September 16th, 2010 4:16 am

    whatever.the ironical rensponse is another typical one.
    as for the Bali bombings, well, you can here find why i came to think like this.it's up to you, once again.
    http://z6.invisionfree.com/Reality_Shack/index.php?showtopic=117

  7. Pierre-Juan September 16th, 2010 4:21 am
  8. sephim September 16th, 2010 7:28 am

    It's not irony, it's derision.

  9. Pierre-Juan September 16th, 2010 7:33 am

    por supuesto.

  10. admin September 16th, 2010 10:54 am

    @all: drink more alcohol, flame less please. We all have kids who we don’t want to get blown up in the future world war. Nobody wants buildings to explode and murder innocent people. Fight the power, fuck the lies, fuck Bush and Obama and double-plus Orwell-fuck the Fox-news rectum-worshippers.

    A’ight?!????

  11. Pierre-Juan September 29th, 2010 10:10 pm

    http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/09/remembering_september_11th.html#photo34
    Caption: "Family members of victims pay their respects at the site of the former twin towers on the eighth anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center, in New York, September 11, 2009. (REUTERS/Gary Hershorn) # "

    Wow! That's quite a family reunion! Only that I have considerably more brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins in my own family.
    Are we to believe that shit, I mean, are we, sincerely?
    Let's leave it as that.A monumental lie.
     

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