The Women of Sagawa's Psyche

Just as Playboy delights in showcasing the women of a particular institution or college ('The Women of Walmart', for example, or 'The Women of UCLA'), it seems fair to provide an album of women favored and adored by Issei Sagawa, Japan's Godfather of Cannibalism.

Recently, he admitted that his penchant for European women has finally been sated, and he's focusing his appetite on the creamy delights of his home country.  

Of the beautiful Aya Ueda (above), he said: "She is too good to eat."  I say: "Literally, perhaps, but..."

The gorgeous Kyoko Hasagawa (above) is another lass who has captured a cannibal's heart. "Her legs are beautiful," he said in Vice.com's 2010 documentary

Akiko Yada, another beauty from Okinawa, Sagawa's preferred destination for Nippon delicacies, has also earned a place on the flesh eater's bedroom wall. It's hard to argue that his tastes aren't impeccable.

Finally, Erika Toda, who appeared in the filmic adaptation of popular manga Death Note, is another favorite of Mr. Sagawa. When he beholds these dreamy ladies, he "feels an appetite".

Not entirely surprising.

It's Not Easy Being a Saucer-Man

Invasion of the Saucer Men has been part of my life since I was old enough to crawl. It's tattooed onto my psyche. And will remain there, I'm sure, until the day (or night) I die.

Like The Man From Planet X, these guys get my sympathy rather than my outrage.  Although they appear to be bent on invading the world and, more importantly, enslaving women, I was never convinced that they were fair dinkum about it. Not with looks like that. Even if they could get a woman into the sack, do you really think she'd juice up for them? -- for such puny, sickly looking jokers with faces full of veins and skin a permanent shade of jaundice? Not likely. If they were rich, maybe... but my sources assure me that these dudes don't have two dimes to rub together. 

Aliens like this can only be rapists, I suppose. They're destined to spend their nights applying lube to places they're not exactly welcome to enter, and employing bowie knives as instruments of foreplay. Even lube dries up eventually, and a guy's gotta get tired of constantly re-applying it. And what about chaffing? Pushing your extraterrestrial johnson into an earth woman's dry, unyielding vagina, lube or no lube, is going to take its toll eventually. When you insist on raping outside your species, you do pay a steep price. Ask any zoophile!

  

This great still has always been a favorite of mine. It tells us that these guys are no fans of human romance. They're no suckers for the Valentine's Day bullshit that every man dreads each year. In fact, when these intergalactic yahoos see examples of  it, they want to fuck it up. And who can blame them!? In this documentary image, it's hard to tell if that clawed hand with the pointy fingers is getting ready for a grope, or itching to strangle the stuffing out of the bloke because he's wearing a suit and tie at the drive-in (surely a hangable offense in anybody's book). Aliens are definitely jealous bastards. They can't stand it when earth men (in suits!) dare to snuggle with earth women (in next to nothing). It really gets their goat. Unleashes the Green-Eyed Monster. Come to think of it, the original Green-Eyed Monster was probably an alien, and that's where the expression came from.

This little green pervert is really taking his chances, though. What if he gropes the bloke instead of the dame? How can he see where that hand's going? Does it have its own set of built-in eyes? Well, yeah, it does, but I'm not so sure the view was clear. I reckon the guy's a gambler, and he knows his odds are even. He's getting off on not knowing whether he's about to become a fiend or a fag.

   

Speaking of fags...

I've always had my suspicions about the Liberace lookalike above -- he's wearing black lipstick by Crikey! He's very well dressed, too, and his Dracula hairstyle looks a little too camped for my liking. Sir Christopher Lee was never this poofy.

So why then is Saucer-Face strangling him? Do Saucer-Men hate fags? According to a certain Baptist church in the South, God hates fags, but is it fair to assume that because God hates them, aliens do, too? Is our tall, green friend strangling Liberace with the intention of killing him, or is he strangling the late, great piano player in order to help him achieve orgasm? If the latter is the case, aliens are clearly attuned to the needs of fags, and ought to be acknowledged for the contribution they're making to queer culture.

 

Finally, let's address the issue of the name 'Saucer-Men'. If you were an invader from space with a penchant for the orifices of both sexes, a homicidal contempt for romance, and a psychotic desire for the destruction of entire planets, would you be cool with being called a 'Saucer-Man'? It's not the most masculine name, is it? It doesn't grab you by the throat and make you shit your pants.

Saucer. Man. 

Oh, let's give the little green man his saucer and milk, children. 

Hey mom, look at that cute little flyer saucer and the funny green man inside it. 

Speaking for these aliens, I wouldn't be too happy with the name. It definitely demeans my ambitions. How can I be expected to instil fear in Earth women when my name makes them think of something you place a cup of tea on?

How can I rape with a mean spirit when my crib is a fucking saucer? A saucer!!! At least call it a spaceship. A spacecraft. A star destroyer! I like that one. Invasion of the Men From The Star Destroyer. Yes, that carries weight! It creates a picture of fearsome beings traveling with big guns.

Some alien invaders get the good names. Xtro, for example.  If an Earth woman were to receive an email telling her that "Xtro is Coming", she'd be locking the doors and windows and calling the police. On the other hand, if she got word that a visit from a Saucer-Man was imminent, she'd stay in her chair for a while, get up slowly, then open the window to let him in for a laugh. 

No woman (or man) calls 911 when a Saucer-Man's at the door.

If you do, however, you're a goddamned Saucer-Pussy (Yes, you, too, ladies!)

Deep Inside A Sex Pervert's Diary

Currently experiencing a relentless illness, so posts have been spotty at best for the last few months. Reading has been difficult. I've been unable to focus on anything for more than five minutes.

I sense recovery is finally afoot since I was able to get through Joji Numata's A Sex Pervert's Diary in less than 24 hours. I consumed this book like a hungry alligator and relished its raw, nihilistic truth.

The book shares common ground with Brett Eastin Ellis's American Psycho in that the focus here is also on minutia -- in this case, minutia associated with erotomania (or sexual obsession).

The book is initially structured like a first person piece of non-fiction in which the narrator describes his obsessions and fetishes in excruciatingly fine detail. You get the sense that he might be a reformed pervert (and I mean that in the nicest way) who's done some jail time and has finally seen the "error" of his ways. Thankfully, this isn't the case.

Although I have no proof, fact is surely molesting fiction here, and it is the book's blending of an authentic Japanese perspective on girl trolling with ultra-deviant fantasies that makes it such a ripping good read. Although it is focused exclusively on a thirty-seven year old Japanese man's attempt to wrestle with his erotic demons, the book will speak to men everywhere. It is, in fact, a chillingly truthful expose of the way men think and what drives them.

I've always said that if women were privy to the carnal carnival of the male mind, the majority would board planes en masse and flee in terror from the oncoming scourge. To be fair, a minority of honest women would remain behind and probably enjoy the party. Both types of women will take different lessons from the hot literary lava bubbling inside the covers of this gem.

'As always, the sight of a naked girl was disappointing at first,' Numata writes. 'The anticipation and fantasizing had built up my expectations to a pitch which couldn't possibly be matched by the real thing. The moment I'm faced with the reality of a woman's naked body, I only see her defects. But soon the imperfections no longer seem as important. The mere fact that I am seeing her in such a shameful condition gives me a thrill which goes beyond any aesthetic satisfaction I might derive from admiring a body's beauty.'

The Japanese definition of "shame" in a constant through the book, carrying the weight of a potent aphrodisiac.

Numata's describing of the vagina as a "clam" makes for numerous memorable passages. His ruminations on men's bizarre and contrary relationship with the clam is often hilarious, disturbing, and priceless.

'They should hold contests to see which girl has the most attractive clam. And they should show nothing but the clam, never mind about her face or the rest of her body. What if an unattractive, chubby little slut had a gem of an omanko (vagina)? Wouldn't that be a nice irony? And then we should be able to see all those omankos of all those beautiful girls with their perfect bodies. Wrinkly blue-gray blubber lips hidden away down between their legs. They should go around with photographs of their clams hanging around their necks with a caption proclaiming: "This is what we really look like inside." Omankos are basically ugly things, and smelly to boot. If men weren't programmed to be triggered into lust by the sight of them, we would avoid them like the plague. You don't know what it's like when a girl is all hot and aroused, in heat, and she spreads her thighs before you to reveal that ugly clam. Basically, a man buries his penis into it just to avoid looking at it.'

Personally, I find vaginas to be extraordinarily enchanting (with some exceptions), so I'm not with Numata on this issue -- still, it is his stubborn adherence to a dizzying point of view that makes every word of this book a chewable feast.

Like Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, the protagonist pervert of A Sex Pervert's Diary is a supreme provocateur, and you will not tire of his non-stop ranting and instructive commentary on everything sexual from upskirt photography to changing room stalking to teenage prostitution to fetishes red, yellow, brown and cotton.

First published in Japan in 2003, the book became a bestseller immediately and continues to sell with the speed of a drunk girl's panties being yanked to her knees.

Highly recommended with warnings for sensitive souls.

The book is published in the US by iUniverse, Inc.

Translation is by Thomas Boggs.