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That trick to look like a total gaijin asshole also works in the United States, I've found.

I was looking through the scanty travel diary of my first trip to Japan, which opens on June 21, 1987 with Paul Rodriguez's remark that the purpose of seat belts on planes is to make it "easier to identify the torso." For some reason, I wrote out the lyrics to "The Windmills of Your Mind" in their entirety on a pink sheet of paper and tucked it into the warm leatherette; it was likely Noel Harrison's rendition rather than Dusty Springfield.

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