Flight Quarantined in Tokyo Obesity Scare

n American Airlines flight from San Jose to Tokyo was quarantined on the tarmac at the Tokyo airport last week when five passengers aboard showed symptoms of being obese.

"I was sitting next to one of them," claimed passenger Roger Mickle. "And he was going on and on about how he just couldn't keep the weight off and didn't want to get his fat ass laughed out of the gym. I'd heard about that kind of shit on the news and thought I should notify a stewardess. I hear it's some kind of epidemic these days."

Some observers have called the event an overreaction on the part of a Japanese government fearful of American obesity spreading to their relatively thin nation. Emergency vehicles met the plane on the runway in hopes of containing the threat, but all passengers were later released when it was discovered that the five were merely fat as hell.

"Oh yeah, they were pretty fat," said Jim Roache, a passenger in first class. "One of them was even fat as fuck. But obese? I leave that for the doctors to decide. I'd hate to call somebody obese and have them go on some kind of cake-eating rampage when it was a misunderstanding and they were just 'fucking fat'."

Tokyo officials issued a statement after the incident, explaining Japan's fear of American-style obesity. Though no conclusive scientific evidence has surfaced to suggest obesity is contagious, many researchers believe the American lifestyle and diet, major precursors for obesity, can be spread through direct exposure.

"These trans-pacific flights have to be watched very carefully," explained Japan's Health Minister Chikara Sakaguchi. "If you know what to look for, say the stain from a French fry on a blouse, or the glazed-yet-satiated look in a passenger's eye, you can spot the warning signs before this epidemic is spread across the ocean."

Asked if Japan was in danger of an obesity outbreak, US Surgeon General Richard H. Carmona scoffed.

"Japan? Obese? Please. They're way too in love with fish to really ever weigh in with the big boys. Very few countries really have what it takes, you'd be surprised. There was that scare in Toronto, of course, but it was always just media hype. I've been to Toronto, and those baloney-eaters don't know the first thing about being obese. They wouldn't know obese if it sat down at their table and ate all the potato salad. Americans, we take them to school about being just disgustingly fat."

Regardless, Minister Sakaguchi remains cautious.

"We love the Americans, and the many gifts they have bestowed upon our culture. This, however, they can keep. No thank you, so sorry. We honor you, proud Americans, your hearts exploding like Fourth of July fireworks, but people of Japan must eat vegetables sometimes. Is… is in religion. Yes. So thank you, but please keep your big rolls of blubbery fat over there like good neighbor. Sayonara."

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I'm certainly glad people have come back around to pop music once again—it was too long and too often I would find myself in a bar, with friends, defending the merits of artists like the New Kids on the Block, or Debbie Gibson. True, those stars have faded into sweet yesteryear, but at least pop music remains strong. Stronger than ever, one might say.

Yes, for those who would denounce Hilary Duff as a second-tier Taylor Dane, let me, for one, confess my enthusiastic glee for today's pop star. They are more engaging, more attractive, and I dare say, even more enduring than the pop stars of days gone by. This year marks Britney Spears' seventh as a top-of-the-charts entertainer. Does that sound like a flash in the pan to you? I think not.

Still, the press coverage of the modern pop star leaves something to be desired. Yes, Rolling Stone may put Britney on their cover, and People may tell us she owns a nightclub and is moving into the foray of films. But what about the music? How is it we so easily forget it's the songs that made us love her, not her beautiful features and her body. Why are more magazines and television interviewers not asking her where she gets her ideas? I want to know where those songs come from. I, for one, want to know what goes through her mind when she sings "I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman." I'm always reminded of the Bob Marley classic "No Woman, No Cry" when I hear those aching notes she sings. For that matter, how does she choose those songs she interprets? Why is it she knew, instinctively, her version of the much-covered Stones hit "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" would stand out as a hit, and not fade into music history as a forgotten note?

Of course, some would challenge, quite fairly, that most modern pop-stars are overproduced; the studioesque sheen is too thick to hear the tremendous textures of their voices and the individual instruments. I agree, and yet I disagree. I can't turn down a good Jessica Simpson album, no matter how slick and manufactured it initially sounds to me. But to some extent, I'm with you—the only way to hear these pop performers is live. Oh, the glory! To be sitting front row at an N*Sync concert, to hear those fluid notes sail over the audience, it's as close to heaven on earth as we get in this life.

Not that I can afford concert tickets these days, for what TicketMaster charges. So mostly I just pick up bootlegs. I have a few I've recorded myself, but like most bootleg collectors, I receive more by trading those already in my possession. Not that I'm adverse to buying them outright, even if it goes against the spirit of the true pop music bootleg collector. Just last week I traded two separate Aaron Carter bootlegs I own (one at the Hard Rock Café, London, the other at the Fillmore) and a Spice Girls at Budokan just so I could get a tape of demos and outtakes from Lindsay Lohan's debut album. Did I get ripped-off? I don't think of it like that. I have my copies, and the sound quality is quite spectacular on them, but what is most important is that I avail myself to the most recent pop phenomenon available, and Lindsay Lohan is it right now. As an actress and a singer (a regular double-threat), I firmly believe Lohan will be the most popular breakout media star since Jennifer Love-Hewitt.

And I needn't tell you, it makes me embarrassed to be a pop fan when you see something like the Ashlee Simpson "Saturday Night Live" scandal from a few months back. I'm sure she was sincere in her excuse for it, but it did make all of us Ashlee Simpson fans look quite the fool.

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I have a legal question, and can't get my sister on the phone lately, so I ask you: If you shoot your dad in your own home, is it legal? I know it applies if you shoot a burglar, or if you tie him up and torture him and saw his legs off. If it's your dad, does that take away the whole legal angle? What if you've been letting him stay in the house? Is that like a binding contract or anything?

Not that I would kill my dad. I just like to be aware of my options. Even the last resort kind. He's not bad, by himself, but lately you can never catch him by himself. Him and his buddies have been camping out on the living room floor in my apartment. Which is where my mom used to sleep before he came to live with me, so now she's sharing my bed. And she farts like a French horn all night. So it's all one little straw piled on top of each other, not any single one of them pissing me off by itself, but the whole bunch is about to kill me.

Things got even worse a month ago when Uncle Luke came to visit. If someone comes to your place to visit and puts their name on the mailbox, let that be a warning they probably plan on staying longer. The place is just way too crowded. I'm starting to think some of these cats wandering around here aren't even mom's, they just came in when someone left the door open. The police have been out to my place three times in the last two nights, which is a lot even for me, and the more they hang around the more they're going to realize some of those spices in the spice rack aren't totally legal.

Uncle Luke is probably the biggest problem. My dad is like gunpowder, you know, but gunpowder when it's just by itself isn't so bad. Then you throw in Uncle Luke, he's like firewater or something. I'm not sure of the exact chemical equation, I'll have to check my high school chemistry notes, but it all leads to big kabooms. Not just one, but one after another. Dad's gang was fine until Uncle Luke showed up. Now Uncle Luke has challenged dad for leadership with the accusation he never gave the group a real name—grounds for a challenge, I guess, according to the rules of the gang they wrote on the back of that Denny's menu. The group is split down the middle into two factions, with Freddy Mercury being loyal to dad but Icepick really liking Uncle Luke's vision of the future. Plus, he promised to buy jackets for everybody.

Dudes, this may be obvious, but I don't have time for this shit. That supertramp Jayme is still trying to steal my work at the comic book and now der commune führer Bagel is demanding I come into the office at least once a week so he can verify I've not been replaced with a robot by his conniving brother. And I know, seriously, like you could even tell in person if it was a really, really good robot. But I'm not complaining. Wait, let me reread—yeah, I guess I am complaining. With good reason. But my point is my dad and his homies are the last thing I need to worry about right now.

Dad probably should just give up the gang. They all should. A bunch of 40+ flabby white guys really don't have a prayer in hell of controlling any major turf. I wish there was some kind of "scared straight" program for old dudes. A little tour of a real prison yard, a first-rate max security penitentiary, would clear dad up real quick. He thinks he's been to prison after spending the night in county for shoplifting at Safeway. I'm tired of his bragging about doing "9 hours in Cell Block 1." It was Cell Block 1 because they didn't have another, dad. Didn't you notice all the winos? Did they look like criminal masterminds?

My best bet at this point would probably be to challenge both dad and Uncle Luke for leadership of the gang. I think on a good day mom could take both of them in the circle of death, so they got shit chance against me. Then I just disband their gay-ass fight club and decree they find real jobs and their own clubhouse. Or, murder. The murder thing is an option. So get back to me on that whole legal/illegal thing.

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