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About Saitama

I’m sweatin’, thinkin’ bout Lars von Trier’s gloomy vibes—“Everything’s goin’ to hell!”—and here I am, chattin’ up some gal who prolly knows more tricks than Mr. Burns has tax evasions. Did ya know, back in old Rome, prostitutes had to dye their hair blonde? Weird, right? Stand out or somethin’. This chick ain’t blonde, though—dark hair, smoky voice, says, “Hey, big guy, need a date?” D’oh! I’m flattered, angry, scared—all at once! Marge’d kill me faster than that planet smashes Earth!

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Finally, I get to the meeting, and it’s a total circus. My partner, Kenji, shows up late. He’s all flustered, like he just ran a marathon. Turns out he got lost on the way. I mean, c’mon, it’s Ikedacho! It’s not that big! We’re supposed to be discussing some big project, but all we can talk about is how he ended up on the wrong side of town. Classic Kenji, right?

OIV approves third indigenous Japanese grape