Masahiro Sato’s Guide to War Memorials of Obihiro

 Harlo.

My name is Masahiro Sato.

Korekara, It is Guide to War Memorials of Obihiro.

Dull Japan worker of today can only dream of heroic death on plains of Obihiro.

A chinaman facial hello to the bayonet here, a small child rape behind a pond there.

These are only 2 fantasy that get Japan today Japan salary man thru today working day today.

Obihiro Plain. It is pastoral scene to close eyes and recline into idyllic daydream centred around the stabbing of chinaman’s faces off.

It is War Memorial.

It is bittersweet for we Japanese to remember The War.

Bitter, because we Japanese lost.

Sweet, because there was death.

Today, the Obihiro Plain is fertile.

Some say it is thanks to human fertilizer of Chinese skulls.

Those days are over. Chinese skulls have long since leached down, through soil, and through bedrock, and into hell.

Tank tracks show area is untouched since final Japanese Panzer Division rolled through in 1948 to run down and polish off last slowly-limping Chinese rickshaw coolie I mean militant insurgent.

Obihiro Unit 731 Chinese Research Centre is mound in centre. At night it was boredom so researchers set captive Chinamen free and watch elated chingchong flee into next-door forest and run comically face-first into many trees. It was night and Chinamen were all permanently blind after acid eyewash experiments all day.

It is funny if you laugh.

Gahh, fucking Prius, move those trees, I’m going t

From left-to-right “Blood”, “Bone” and “Dick”.
















My House:

No windows? A working chimney? Ice daggers?

Next slide please.


























Inside Obihiro’s Unit 731 Chinaman Rectal Probe Anal Expansion Division.

Yes, it still looks exactly the same as it did on its last day of operation…

…August the 8th, 1982.

Dung-stained turnips, retrieved from the arses of screaming Chinaman.

Yes, these are last sturdy remnants of proud Japan warrior spirit.

And now the rich chinaman tourist come, with their skulls still attached to their brains, to see a stupid fucking turnip.

WFT.

And now, in cruel and vicious irony, we proud Japanese warriors work, work like chinese fucking black dog slaves, to polish turnip, polish a each fucking turnip, one by one, one fucking sorry sad fuckign turnip at a time, in tearful, frozen-cock, no money, dead economy slave labour camp condition, for resale to fuckking Chinaman tourist.

Fuck my life and thank you for reading.

–Masa.