#probably inappropriate usage of japanese

[fellow-traveller]

tfw people get mad at hol horse for hitting on a 16 year old only to conveniently forgot pol did the same thing and worse 💀 at least hol didn't do anything inappropriate as far as we know

I often find this sort of argument funny in a way that...the ones who "advocate for the well-being of fictional minors" did not actually comprehend that the age of consent differs according to countries and time period.

As such, I don't want to pick sides because most people would project what they know about consenting age on a personal level to these fictional characters. But I can safely say this: Hol didn't specifically hit on Nena (at best, he only sweet-talks her because he's a manipulative coward...I sort of elaborated that one before), and Polnareff's actions on Nena is still kinda justified given that the highest age of consent for France is 15 (and is still is!).

For a quick reference, in 1980s, the age of consent for India (assuming it's where Nena was from) is 12. In the States (assuming it's where Hol Horse was from), it's ranged between 10-12, and in France it's 13. In general, Nena being 16 and pursuing/getting hit on by two men in their mid-20s, without indication of engagement in sexual activities (i.e. sexual penetration and the sort, the hardcore stuff, you get my point) is a normal occurrence at that time period and at such and such countries. Hence, it's...not weird or disgusting at the given place and time for such thing to occur, even in real life.

Age of consent in Japan was also 13 in 1980s, and only recently this year (2023) did the Japanese government raised it to 16. Which is still within the context of this writing.

The only country in the late 1980s that has a high age of consent (20 years old) is Chile. Others ranged from 7 to 15, with 7 being solely the state of Delaware, USA.

But yeah, I find some fans' argument about age of consent in JoJo, most notably between Nena and Hol Horse/Polnareff, and between Mountain Tim and Lucy, to be very weak. It didn't take me more than an hour to research on this topic, and I don't see why they couldn't either, before throwing baseless accusations to the fictional characters and fans of them.

Also, bonus info: The age of consent in Italy is 14 as of 2007, with 13 being the earliest age to engage in sexual activities with a partner 18 and under. So, ship away.

EDIT: I probably should also clarify that age of consent does not always equal to a green light for sex. For sex, it depends on the nature of the sex (is it dubcon? is it caused by force majeure?), religion and culture, and federal law (some law in some countries in combination with religion, culture and/or other clauses would limit the age for sex, alcohol and drugs to 18-21). Age of consent in general is limited to engaging in softcore things, like kissing, hugging, sweet-talks, what-have-you that doesn't necessarily involve the usage of genitals.

But if we are talking the 1980s specifically, in the context of these fictional characters and locations, a lot of the sexual consent didn't quite apply. In simple words, 16 is not considered a minor in India, USA and France in 1989, hence Nena, all things considered, was a young adult who can engage in sexual activities, should she consented to it.

[alizaarches]

Growing up, Gin had heard the tales of the dragons of old—how creatures with teeth sharpened like razors and the size of small garbage trucks hunted the land with a vengeance unparalleled to anything seen before. Monsters the length of Shanghai Tower roaming with enough passion to fill the books of Gin’s ancestors. Gin was taught by her grandfather to never trust a dragon. Originally, she’d believed the statement to be a metaphor, in the same way humans were called rats and snakes, but no; he’d meant actual, literal dragons. The beginning of Gin’s bizarre existence took place in a small town in Japan, a long time ago. Her mother gently stroked Gin’s hair as she sang the stories of faraway lands and legendary princesses, while her father handed her a katana and whispered a blessing of good fortune in three dead languages. Her grandfather, full of grief from losing his wife, smiled sadly at her, telling her how much she looked like her namesake, how exactly is the perfect way to sharpen her sword (which was more helpful than the solemn silence of her father), and how to perform a three-fingered gesticulation that wards off dragons. Gin shook her head to get rid of those thoughts, and promptly slammed into a telephone pole. She cried out, gripping her forehead, glancing up from her romance novel, glaring at the pole like it had attacked her. She huffed, put The Ace of Hearts into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. She walked around the post and continued strolling down the sidewalk with her head held up high. Joking around, she started dancing dorkily to the music in her earbuds, twisting her feet together and falling on her face. She laughed, rolling her eyes at herself, and twisting onto her side to push herself back up. Instead of pulling off the epidemy of grace she so obviously was, she turned her head and made eye contact with huge, bright yellow irises. She screamed, scrambling away from the storm drain, staring in absolute horror. Black pupils in the center of lightbulb eyelets observed her, looking Gin up and down as if calculating the potentiality of a threat, and ducked beneath the grate once more. Gin sat on her hip, panting like she’d freshly run a marathon, and wondered if she’d read too much fantasy. She looked down at her palms, steadying herself, and stood. She picked up her backpack from where she’d dropped it, glanced back at the home of the giant egg yolks, and kept on marching. She plugged back in her songs of the wild and went back to dreamland. Gin wished she could dive back into her card game book—she was just getting to the part where the professional gambler throws a match of poker for the woman he loves—but the road home required many roadway intersection, and she’d rather not get run over by moderately quick vehicles. She stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and attempted to avoid any ponderings of her grandfather, which of course meant she could only think of him. Her mind was filled with the fondness in his voice when he spoke of shenanigans he ensued when he was younger (including a swordfight with Grandmother’s brother, an attempted burglary of his motorbike, and a bratwurst Japanese nun party); the smile on his face when he flipped through old scrapbooks of past memories with him and his deceased spouse; the crinkles of the corners of his eyes when he retells the childhood of his eldest daughter, Gin’s mother. Gin missed her grandfather so much. She looked down at the concrete: one foot in front of the other—left, right, left, right. Watch the breaks in the sidewalk, follow the straight line. She stopped dead. She shut her eyes, a tear crawling passed her willpower. In her heart—her Ace of Hearts (okay, she’ll stop now)—she knew her grandpa was happy, satisfied; he’d missed his Gin (the original one) more than anything, even more than non-crooked legs and the adventure of youth. Gin the Second knew he was content in being buried next to the love of his life. But sometimes she’d catch her mom look at her wedding photo—the two most important men in her life on either side, all smiling like idiots—and fiddle with her Years of Life bracelet: silver, like Gin’s name. Gin knew she wasn’t the only one who missed Grandpappy Kei, but from how her family avoided his death like a forest fire, sometimes it felt that way. She sighed shakily. Crying wasn’t going to bring him back, and she’d had plenty of time to grieve. Her dark eyes hardened, and she, determined, thought, “I am stronger than his. Grandfather taught me better than this.” She forced her legs to move in the familiar path to her cottage through the square. She brushed her fingertips against passing mailboxes and store windows to get a better grip on reality. She reached a fork in the road—she could either go the longer, more wiry direction with heavier traffic and more people that could notice a tearstain and report it to her parents like the police, OR she could go through the peaceful, small patch of woods that could’ve housed Grandmother’s house. She chose the compact cluster of trees, thank you very much. Gin lowered the volume of her music just in case. She carefully breathed in the fresh air, a patch of non-toxified air in a town full of air pollution and quite a lot of gasoline. She raised her arm and touched the hanging trees of maple, beautiful in the weather of this time of year, blending in with the orchards of cherry blossoms and magnolias. The ground was invisible, covered in colorful fallen leaves. She adjusted the pack on her back and wondered that if she ran away from Casa de Mori, how long would she survive in this part of the woods? How long would it take before the authorities found her? Before anyone found her? To her right, a branch cracked. She froze. With the caution of prey to an unknowing hunter, she turned her head, slowly. For the second time that day, she found herself staring into eyes the color of the smiling yellow sun she’d used to draw in the corner of prepubescent illustrations. The creature glowered back, fearlessly, and raised its head in a show of dominance—a challenge. Gin broke eye contact in response. Instead, she stretched her neck to examine its body; she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. An owl the size of her bedroom? (No, its body was long, and lean, and it lacked the bodily feathers.) A Bombay cat? (The likeliest possibility, and even that was a stretch. A domestic animal prowling like its untamed counterpart in the woods? It also didn’t help that a Bombay cat could not possibly be the length of a pickup truck.) Gin moved her scrutiny further down its figure—a scaly, muscular spine with white spikes popping out like shark’s teeth; a tail, swinging, a weapon curling gracefully like the smooth agility of a feline; a form so dark it blended in with the shadows of maple trees (noticeable by the black spot on the otherwise very pinkish reddish earth); legs the height of the pole Gin had run into; and wings the size of a man’s parachute, as leathery and inky as the raisins of her homeland, relaxed in the way the calm before a storm was relaxed—an uneasy stillness before the ball will drop. The beast took a careful step into the light—a very minute spot uncovered by the canopy of branches overhead. Gin’s eyes widened. It was—predictable, because her life was as ironic as the soap operas her mother loved to watch, minus the secret incest and bastard children from illegitimate sibling/spouse/parent/person—a dragon, matching the pictures from Grandmother Gin’s tomes of folklore perfectly. Its razorlike teeth was covered by an unintimidating close-lipped smile, and its lightbulb irises closed as it bent its head over in a show of docility, seeming to only want peace with the human girl with clumsy tendencies and long, dark hair. Beware of the legends her grandfather drilled into her naïve little-girl brain of malicious dragons, Gin gulped. She tightened her grip on her backpack straps, and walked forward, as softly and as docile as the dragon itself. Dragging her feet on the ground, she could only hear the dragon’s breathing, the sole sound in a silent forest. She reached up, a pale arm outstretching in a gesture of trust. Inwardly, she was screaming at herself—a single signal of ceasefire from an intelligent monster (who could be tricking her into becoming willing prey, casually strolling into her own death) and she was going to possibly very eagerly sacrifice her own limb? Too late now. “Hi,” said Gin. “Please don’t kill me.” The dragon opened one eye and glanced at her like it was questioning her intellect. If it had eyebrows, it would’ve totally raised it at her with enough sass one could convey with an eyebrow. Her hand touched its jaw, gentle, apprehensive. It leaned into her touch. A glare of light reflected into Gin’s iris, making her startle. She frowned, before ducking her head slightly. A collar was wrapped tightly around the dragon’s neck, with a silver nameplate engraved with affection: ASA. “Asa,” Gin whispered. “Like the flower? The Morning Glory—Asagao?” The dragon—now known as Asa, a feminine name, so Gin assumed the dragon was female—shook her head. Gin wondered what Asa stood for, but dismissed it, blaming her deadly curiosity. She’d never been able to resist a good mystery, and typically drove herself insane while trying to solve the enigma. She stroked Asa’s scales like she was petting a puppy. In comfort, the dragon yawned, showing off her long, triangular white-gold fangs. Gin’s heart climbed into her throat—her grandfather. The thousands of times he’d spent his life describing to Gin every menacing detail of a dragon’s claws, of the wide, intelligent catlike eyes, of the teeth sharpened like razors, ready to bite anything and everything in half, taking pleasure in doing so. Asa sensed her discomfort, and nudged her, purring. Gin could only mindlessly caress her backarmor, flashing back to happier times, where her family wasn’t grieving, and her life wasn’t a series of ones and zeroes—coded, replaceable, and predictable. “Where did you come from?” Gin forced herself to ask, swallowing back the urge to start running. Scurrying away from a dragon like a frightened deer would not solve anything, especially with a creature that could chew her up and spit her out. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?—If a girl screams in a forest and there’s no one around to hear it, does she still die? Asa nuzzled her hand for her attention, and answered her question, glancing up to the sky with lightbulb irises. Gin nodded. “I should’ve guessed. Can you imagine Sensei Mei’s face if a dragon strolled into the Plaza? Walked straight into the Ki’s without a single—er, roar? Do you guys roar?” Gin got chatty when she was nervous. It was a Mori thing. Asa blinked slowly at her, one eye at a time. Asa turned her massive body around in a circle and sat down like a dog, her fat legs stretching out as a pillow for her resting head. A dragon trusted her—why? How did the monster know Gin wouldn’t be cruel to her? Wouldn’t hook her nameplate and sell it to the nearest shady buyer? Wouldn’t survive if Asa attacked her, and throw her backpack as a distraction, run back to the Plaza and scream for the Dragon Hunter crew? Gin smiled a little, ironically. The Dragon Hunters were a story her grandfather used to tell her—ethereal warriors made specially to protect the world from dragonkind. Along with the stories of Clarity’s Lover; The Killer, Master, Brother; and What One Gives (the written tales of a woman falling in love as a girl, growing up, and returning “home” to discover her former lover was blinded by the one he trusted most; that of a man who’s only solace in life is his sister, does whatever it takes to save her from herself, including murder and training someone to do his bidding; and that of a guardian angel who falls for a human—figuratively—and gives everything for him, only for him to point a weapon her in face. There are different versions, the American movie version says a gun, the traditional version says a Kama, the odd remake from Spain just claims he strangles her with his garrote wire—and kill her), the Dragon Hunters was a legend, a story told down through generations. Gin really wasn’t sure why those myths were the details she thought of as she contemplated why she’d earned a dragon’s trust, but she was told before she could never truly focus on one thing, always having a wandering mind. With Asa sitting directly in front of her, as innocent as a puppy and as intelligent as an owl, it probably wasn’t a death wish to drift off into dreamland again. Gin knelt. She stroked the head of a dragon. “Hi,” she said. “Sorry. I zoned out, right? My family calls it my ‘dreamland look’. They say I daydream for longer than normal person does, usually at ten minutes a time. I don’t ever realize I’m doing it. I just think, and apparently that’s weird.” She sighed, shaking her head. “You don’t care, do you?” She grinned self-deprecatingly. Gin had a realization. “Huh. I never told you my name.” For some reason, Asa perked up at that. “Yeah? You want to know my name?” For the first time, Asa the Dragon looked shy. She nodded, reluctantly. “Okay.” Gin pet her. “Well, my name is Mori Gin, I’m a Sagittarius, and I like hot chocolate.” Asa glanced up. Her eyes, yellow as a Tokyo Banana, looked almost human, if without a natural coloring. Abruptly, and very, very unexpected, a voice popped into her head, as clear as the music in her headphones: “I am Asa, and I am a Virgo.” Gin stared, shocked. “Did you just—?” Gin asked the dragon. “Did you just TALK TO ME?” Reasonably, she was freaking out, if more mentally than physically. Because, as everyone is aware, dragons cannot talk. “Or am I going insane?” which was another option. “You are not going insane,” said Asa, gruff and fiery, which was what a dragon’s voice apparently sounded like. “You told me who you are.” “I … I told you my name!” “It qualifies.” “‘Qualifies’!” “Yes. My former handlers … well, they manipulated my neural programming so I can only speak when someone introduces themselves to me. And for being what I am… . My handlers wanted me under a leash, to say the least.” Gin’s stomach dropped. “Asa, what is your name short for?” Asa looked down at her claws. “Asashin.” “‘Assassin’. Your name is ‘Assassin’.” “Yes. My handlers were not kind people. They intended to make me into a monster. You know what that feels like, I think.” Gin’s jaw clenched. “I have many questions. Who are your handlers? Why do they want to make you into an assassin? Why are you here? Where did you come from? What do you want from me?” “I do not want anything from you.” With a single thought to the grandfather that taught her everything she knew, she spoke a prayer, apologizing, for she knew he was all but throwing a riot in his double gravestone, Gin made a decision she knew she’d either completely regret, or thank herself forever for doing so. “Can I ask a favor?” “That depends on the favor, Miss Mori.” Gin smiled. (I’m sorry, Grandfather.) “I want to fly.”

The Dragon Rider, by alizaarches

Hello everyone. Guess who’s back, back, back! Back again! Anyway, I decided to try to write my first sequel. This is the sequel to The Dragon Hunter, with Naomi. This time we follow a girl named Gin, and she just wants to fly (because the word “ride” has been ruined for me).

Again, I just want to stress I do not want to be offensive. This is only briefly based on Japanese culture. This one takes place in Japan, but I sincerely do not mean offense. I simply wanted to write some fun fantasy, with weird relatable protagonist and a puppylike pet dragon.

Asa was inspired by the dragons Aithusa (Merlin, the TV Show), Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), and Bombay cats. You could probably tell the similarities. I also made somewhat subtle and also non-subtle references to fandoms. I’ll let you guess which ones.

[starsailorstories]

I’ve mentioned the grammatical registers of Altamaian here and there but I just now pulled together Info About Them and I’m really excited to share it because it’s one of the main ways it differs from Latin (which it’s a predecessor of in the SC universe) and also just a fun bit of worldbuilding that informs a lot of exchanges in the stories

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Modern Standard Altamaian is notable for the way its grammar and vocabulary change based on social context and the expressive style of the particular speaker. Obviously the best Earth analog to this is probably Japanese, but Altamaian differs in that registers are conveyed solely through highly regular affixes and changes in syntax, rather than that + whole new polite forms of words. Shifts to simpler or flowerier vocabulary occur with shifts in speaking style just as in English, but they are not a grammatical part of the register--one can speak in a very formal register and use very simple language and vice versa. While some features exist in more than one register and features of different registers are often mixed to convey a particular tone, the basic divisions are:

Casual/direct: The most notable feature of direct speech in Altamaian is that it tends to be more topic-forward, ironically similar to Classical Syfrae considering its association with the uneducated masses. It uses direct forms of words with few augmentative or diminutive affixes (although there are exceptions in dialect/slang), direct address of listeners, and few separate subject words (relying on verb conjugation to indicate who is doing what). Commonly used among friends or, among the lower lumini, overtures to strangers which may range from friendly to aggressive (to put it in English terms, “Hey I love your outfit”, “Watch out for the snowplow back there!”, and “Put your turn signal on dumbass!” would all, when directed at strangers, be direct-register phrases). Also used for statements aimed at a general audience, such as announcements. Traffic and regulatory signs in the Rings use this register, breaking with the tradition on the planets of the Four Suns of using the formal/polite register (below)--this has led to a lot of memery amongst residents of the old cities around translating them as much more vulgar than they actually are (THE GAP, BITCH! MIND IT!)

Formal/polite: This is actually the most commonly used register for many people, as it tends to be expected of students and in public and professional life, as well as in most media properties funded by the aristocracy. The weirdly hint-of-gender concept of “gentlemaidenliness” is quite bound up with this type of speech although not everyone who uses it would be identified as such--it’s started to be a bit more class-flexible because this is a dying breed but it USED to mean “unbound (and thus not using humble speech) colony-daughter who works for her living (and thus not using benevolent speech) but is nonetheless the Right Sort of People (and thus not using direct speech).” Despite retaining most of the inflections of the regular grammar, polite speech uses rigid SOV word order in the second and third person and OSV word order in the first (so you’re always putting the other person first--an element it shares with humble speech, although formal speech is usually used between strangers/those without any particular relationship regardless of the social status of either speaker) and subject pronouns are generally included. The speaker will still usually address the listener directly unless she is of vastly higher social status (in which case you’d better have a good reason to be speaking to her at all).

Humble (“admiring”): this register goes a step beyond polite speech and emphasizes the humility of the speaker while showing respect--sometimes quite impassioned respect--to the listener. It retains many traits of the polite register like “others first” word order, but in addition, the listener is never referred to by a second-person pronoun--only by a formal address title or phrase, or in the third person--and the speaker will use only diminutive words (including diminutive forms of verbs) to refer to herself, her equals, and her own actions, while referring to the listener with augmentatives. This type of speech is often used in a official context--formal appeals for grants or workers’ benefits, tax papers for businesses, and legal documents all generally exhibit some amount of it, as they’re necessarily addressed from commoners to nobles--yet it remains heavily associated with courtly love, and is often found in romantic sentiments between apparent social equals, especially (you saw this coming didn’t you?) when one party has screwed things up and is trying to salvage them. Although it’s not a formal rule, this register is also associated with phrases and modifiers that qualify one’s statements, akin to the English “I think” although a more accurate translation would be “in my humble opinion,” if a less formal version of that phrase existed in modern English usage.

“Loquelita” or cute humble speech: a subset of humble speech makes use of intensifying reduplication (the exact equivalent of saying “I am so so so so glad” except you do it to the main adjective not the modifier: I am glad glad glad!), doubles up or repeats diminutive and augmentative affixes, and draws vocabulary from youthful and childhood vernacular as well as archaic recitations which are standard knowledge among educated Basilean citizens. This is most often heard in contexts of delicisma or other direct relationships between a high-status lady and a significantly younger and lower-status hanger-on, although it’s associated with literal children (if you’re at a fancy private school this is how you ask your teacher if you can end the lesson early and play heads up seven up lol) and seen as a bit degrading past a certain age and above a certain career level, not to mention inappropriate with superiors who don’t already know and love you. Basically if you’re going to use the “you know how i’m your most favoritest and you love me so much” register variant you’d better be pretty sure the answer isn’t going to be “no? leave.”

Benevolent: Used by high-status leaders (nobles, politicians, some powerful commoners although usually not until their PR consultant tells them to) to speak to or about their inferiors. In Altamaian, “aiko”--the equivalent to the Latin “ego” subject pronoun--is a way of referring to oneself in an official capacity of rulership akin to the royal “we,” although it can be used by anyone in a circumstance where “I” or “me” would be the only word in the sentence (like “Who moved this?” “Me”). The use of this pronoun and of SVO word order are considered proper for describing decisions made from the top of the hierarchy for the (alleged) good of others; such descriptions will also generally use the formal-benefactive noun case to describe the object. Augmentative affixes for such actions, and diminutive ones for those of the listener(s), are also characteristic. 

Familiar: Also sometimes called “soft register,” this is commonly used by parents speaking to children and for reassuring or emotional exchanges between close friends or lovers. Familiar word order is often (though not always) object-first: an example is the most accurate Altamaian translation of the English “I love you,” “Esti quos amo,” literally “It is you that I love.” Diminutives are often used for both the speaker and the listener (but not others), and a special set of affectionate subject pronouns may be employed. 

Intimate: Some people consider certain forms that can occur in familiar speech a sub-register known as “intimate speech,” reserved for intense moments and relationships. This mode retains the word order and affectionate diminutives but mostly drops pronouns in reference to the listener and employs an archaic, general first-person verb conjugation that blurs the line between “you” and “we”. It is almost always more direct than familiar speech and can be used to express passionate anger or hurt. This means Altamaian has the imo EXCELLENT feature of having a way to say “I love you” REALLY HARD, and it’s just “amaei”, one word, four vowels, GREAT for screaming out windows.

[x-yuri]

jp: politeness

お is an honorific prefix which you will occassionally see added to the front of certain words, like ocha (tea) or okaasan (mother) or ofuro (bathroom).

No, unfortunately it is not that simple. Only certain words get honorific prefixes in polite speech. At this point, I would just be aware that a word starting with お may be an honorific form of a word you have encountered without the honorific. Don't try adding honorific prefixes to random words, but do keep an eye on words that start with お, since they may be examples of this prefix in action.

Also, "kudasai" is used for polite requests, but it is not as versitile as saying please, so you can't use it in every situation that you might want to add "please" in English. It might not make sense or sound really strange, if you tried.

Also, there are certain situations when you would want to use a different word when making a polite request. Without getting into too much detail, "Onegaishimasu" is another word that can be used to make polite or formal requests and is also frequently translated as "please" in English. Early on, I would just be aware of both words. They can be used in a similar way, although sometimes one is preferred over the other, depending on the setting/usage/context.

I should probably also mention that although both kudasai and onegaishimasu are polite, onegashimasu is MORE polite.

If you are don't know much Japanese and you need help, you could use "kudasai" for almost any request and people would be able to figure out what you need. This is the simplest approach.

But if you are trying to decide between using kudasai or onegaishimasu, it is important to consider your relationship to the person and what you are asking them to do for you. Kudasai is used when you are requesting something you know you are entitled to. Or if you are requesting something of a friend, peer or someone of lower status than you. In contrast, onegaishimasu is more polite or honorific. It is used when you are requesting a favor or if you expect that your request will be inconvenient. It is also used if you are directing the request to a superior or to someone who you do not know that well.

Mastering politeness in Japanese is a pretty advanced topic so I would not stress about this too much right now. But you should be aware that even polite words can be "rude" if used inappropriately. This is true in English as well, but even more of an issue in Japanese where almost every sentence implies some level of politeness/respect or lack thereof.

https://forum.duolingo.com/comment/27769701

[philatelicdatabase]

New Zealand: A Sad Story Behind a Cover

Before telling the story behind the fascinating cover illustrated in Figure 1, a description is necessary. The envelope has the Arms of the House of Representatives printed in blue on the flap. It is franked with a horizontal pair of the 9d. value of the Centennial of New Zealand postage stamps, over printed ‘Official’. The stamps are cancelled INVERCARGILL/N.Z./6 PM/22 JAN/1942 with the slogan POST EARLY/ IN THE DAY. It is addressed to Brigadier James Hargest DSO, New Zealand Expeditionary Force, British Prisoner, Croce Rossa Italiana, 6 Via Puglie, Rome Italy. On the flap, the sender is identified as Mrs Jas Hargest (wife), Southland in the same handwriting as that of the address. Similarly, in the same handwriting, there is the superscription ‘Service des Prisionnieres de Guerre’ on the front. The letter has been censored, the censor tape being tied to the envelope by the cachet PASSED BY CENSOR N.Z.115. A different hand in different ink has added the superscription ‘Prisoner Of War Post’, at the same time reinforcing the ‘Se’ of ‘Service’ where the original has been covered by the censor tape. In pencil, ‘Croce Rossa Italiana, 6 Via Puglie, Rome Italy’ has been crossed out and ‘Fronte d’Amore (Sulmona)’ added in pencil and underlined in red.

As Brigadier Hargest was a Member of Parliament at the time, it is probable that the House granted him leave of absence “for the duration” so some of the privileges, including the right to Official Stamps, would be retained. The 1940s were the days before Members of Parliament were given electorate assistance, but they were given a monthly voucher that could be exchanged at any post office for postage stamps. In his absence, Mrs Hargest probably did much of the electorate work, including using Parliamentary stationery, cashing the voucher and asking for a variety of official stamp values.

The two stamps paid the 1/6 airmail letter to Great Britain. Censorship was carried out in Dunedin. The route the cover took is revealed by the date of cancellation in Invercargill – January 1942. The date is after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour – when the American trans-Pacific civil airmails ceased – but before the collapse of the India – Australia BOAC/QANTAS airmail services on the Japanese capture of Singapore in February. Therefore the cover would have been flown from Auckland to Australia, on to India and via the Horseshoe Route to West Africa and from there by sea to London. It appears that onwards transmission charges were ignored and it is likely that the letter was sent by sea to Lisbon [Portugal], a neutral country, and from Lisbon to the International Red Cross committee in Switzerland, who would have sent it on, as addressed, to the Italian Red Cross in Rome. It was then forwarded to the Prisoner of War Camp in Italy, the name translating, somewhat inappropriately, as ‘Fountain of Love’.

So, the cover can be properly interpreted as to route and rate, but there is more to it than that. The sadness is in the background. Brigadier James Hargest wrote a book about his adventures as a Prisoner of War, entitled Farewell Camp 12, which was published by Michael Joseph in 1945(1). From the Introduction to the book, one reads:

“Brigadier James Hargest was born in Southland, New Zealand, in 1891. The son of a farmer, he bought a sheep farm on his own at Rakauhauka on his return from the 1914-1918 war. For fourteen years he was a member of the New Zealand Parliament and represented Awarua, the southernmost electorate in the world. Having held a Territorial Commission since 1911 he left with the New Zealand Expeditionary Force in 1914 as a second-lieutenant serving in Egypt, Gallipoli and France and attaining the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in command of the Second Otago Regiment at the age of twenty-six. Wounded at Suvla Bay he was invalided back to New Zealand but returned to action the following year. For those services he was awarded the M.C., D.S.O. and the Legion of Honour and was twice mentioned in despatches. From 1925-30 he was an honorary aid-de-damp to the Governor-General of New Zealand. In January 1940 he left New Zealand as commander of the Fifth Infantry Brigade, which included the Maori Battalion, going first to England and subsequently joining the Division in the Middle East. In Greece his brigade defended the Olympus Pass. Of the 4,000 troops he took to Crete to defend the Maleme aerodrome less than 900 returned to Egypt. In November 1941, during the second Libyan campaign, he was captured by the Germans at Siudi Aziz and taken before Rommel. Imprisoned in the British Generals’ Camp near Florence he escaped later and when he returned to England in November 1943, having travelled through Switzerland, France and Spain, he became the highest-ranking British officer to escape in either war. For his services he was awarded two Bars to his D.S.O., the C.B.E. and the Greek Military Cross. During his journey across France he made many contacts with the resistance movement, and in England broadcast a number of talks for the BBC on the strength and resilience of the French people. He went back to France on D-Day as New Zealand’s observer with the 5oth (Northumbrian) Division. On August 12, 1944, he was killed by a shellburst, and is buried in Normandy near the little church at Roncamps”.

There are certain inaccuracies in the foreword. While Brigadier James Hargest escaped through Switzerland before the Italian surrender, other senior officers also escaped after the surrender, one of whom was his good friend Lieutenant-General Richard O’Connor who also went on to serve in Normandy. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission records show that Brigadier James Hargest is now buried in Hottot-Les-Bagues War Cemetery, Calvados, France.

The dedication of the book reads: “To my son Geoffrey who died of wounds in Italy in March 1944”.

The Commonwealth War Graves Commission records show that Second Lieutenant Geoffrey Robert Hargest died on 3oth March 1944 and is buried in Cassino War Cemetery, Italy. A Father and Son killed in the same year, the memorial to both being the story behind a cover in my collection, recently acquired at auction as it shows an interesting usage of one value of the 1940 Centennial set, overprinted ‘Official’.

Reference: 1. Hargest Brig. J. “Farewell to Campo 12”. Pub. Michael Joseph Ltd. (1945).

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Published by kind permission of the author. Allan P Berry is a highly respected New Zealand philatelist and we are very pleased to publish this article. For more information on New Zealand philately visit http://www.cs.stir.ac.uk/~rgc/nzsgb/

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It is with much sadness that we report the recent death of Allan Berry. We hope to publish an obituary in the near future.

New Zealand: A Sad Story Behind a Cover was originally published on Philatelic Database

[repwinpril9y0a1]

Divertimento #123

Video of a patient with severe Parkinson's Disease, before and after ingesting medical marijuana.  Impressive. Fossilized trilobite eggs discovered. "When [President] Roosevelt heard that a torpedo was zooming toward him, he asked to be moved with his wheelchair over to the railing so that he could see it. Fearing an assassination plot, the Iowa turned its guns toward the William D. Porter — however, the crisis ended when the torpedo finally detonated as it struck heavy waves created by the Iowa’s increased speed. Walter reportedly answered with a meek “We did it” when pressed. The entire crew was placed under arrest and sent to Bermuda to face trial — the first instance in U.S. Naval history that the entire crew of a ship had been arrested." Intraoperative virtual reality may be useful in allowing lower doses of sedatives and hypnotics for surgery patients. "Today saw the release of a new study from the Grantham Institute for Imperial College London and the Carbon Tracker Initiative. It argues that solar photovoltaics and [electric vehicles] together will kick fossil fuel’s ass, quickly. “Falling costs of electric vehicle and solar technology,” they conclude, “could halt growth in global demand for oil and coal from 2020.” That would be a pretty big deal." Explanation of the floating dry-erase stick man.  Impress your friends.

"The 588th was the most highly decorated female unit in [the Soviet air force in WWII], flying 30,000 missions over the course of four years -- and dropping, in total, 23,000 tons of bombs on invading German armies. Its members, who ranged in age from 17 to 26, flew primarily at night, making do with planes that were -- per their plywood-and-canvas construction -- generally reserved for training and crop-dusting. They often operated in stealth mode, idling their engines as they neared their targets and then gliding their way to their bomb release points. Myths about what does and doesn't constitute treason. "På väg mot vaken såg vi älgen göra flera misslyckade försök att ta sig upp själv. Den klarade heller inte att knäcka isen och ta sig in till land på egen hand, så min sambo, Sigrid Sjösteen, började ivrigt hugga upp en ränna in till grundare vatten. Vi turades om att hugga i omkring 30 minuter innan älgen var i säkerhet på land." (saving a moose frozen in a lake) About those little dots on your car windows.  "Most importantly, it acts to prevents ultraviolet sun rays from deteriorating the urethane sealant."  And "there’s another group of dots on the windshield right behind the rearview mirror. As shown in the clip below, these dots, called the “third visor frit,” are there to help block the sun as it beams in from between the two front sun-visors." Collector's Weekly has an extensive article on the history of model railroading. Everything you need to know (or not) about the baton or truncheon (also called a cosh, billystick, billy club, nightstick, sap, blackjack). "The one for daytime was called a day-stick and was 11 inches in length. Another baton, that was used at night, was 26 inches long and called a night-stick, which is the origin of the word "nightstick"." Someone did a detailed analysis of the most recent Super Bowl (LI) and determined that the ball was in play for a total of 16 minutes and 4 seconds.  "There were 178 plays (including kickoffs, point-afters, spikes, etc) with the average play being only 5.47 seconds long."

Dragonfly wings kill bacteria.  "...the bacteria are essentially caught in one of those sinister traps of which movie villains are quite fond. If they don't move, the bacteria might survive. However, when they do move, shear forces pull on the EPSs, ripping the membrane apart. This results in a fatal leakage of cellular contents, which causes the cell to deflate like a balloon..." How to make ice cream from snow. Why British roads are called "metalled" when they have no metal.  "Gravel is known to have been used extensively in the construction of roads by soldiers of the Roman Empire, but a limestone-surfaced road, thought to date back to the Bronze Age, has been found in Britain. Applying gravel, or "metalling," has had two distinct usages in road surfacing. The term road metal refers to the broken stone or cinders used in the construction or repair of roads or railways, and is derived from the Latin metallum, which means both "mine" and "quarry". The term originally referred to the process of creating a gravel roadway. Pie chart explains pyramids. "The paternoster is kind of elevator that consist of a chain of open compartments that move up and down continuously through the vertical shaft of a building in a loop and without stopping. Passengers step into the moving compartments in the direction they wish to go and then hop off when the elevator reaches the desired floor. There is no stopping in between the floors, and passengers must remain alert and get their timing right or else get severed." China is now the world's biggest producer of solar energy. Read about Mohamed Bzeek, a foster father who takes in children with terminal illnesses.

"Now, Bzeek spends long days and sleepless nights caring for a bedridden 6-year-old foster girl with a rare brain defect. She’s blind and deaf. She has daily seizures. Her arms and legs are paralyzed. Bzeek, a quiet, devout Libyan-born Muslim who lives in Azusa, just wants her to know she’s not alone in this life. “I know she can’t hear, can’t see, but I always talk to her,” he said. “I’m always holding her, playing with her, touching her. … She has feelings. She has a soul. She’s a human being.”

Apeirophobia is fear of everlasting life. UNIT 731 (2015) "A research unit of the Imperial Japanese Army during the second Sino-Japanese War and WW2, who conducted human experiments and committed horrible war crimes. After the war, the U.S. government assisted in a coverup of their activities in exchange for the medical data they acquired." "A Utah mother has received immense amounts of praise on social media for dressing up as a man to take her son to a "dads and doughnuts" event at his school... Kittrell said she became a single parent three years ago, and eventually asked her son if he wanted to take his grandfather to the event.  Her son told her no and that he wanted to take her because she was his mother and father." An argument that the phrase "Dark Ages" is inappropriate.  "Far from being a stagnant dark age, as the first half of the Medieval Period (500-1000 AD) certainly was, the period from 1000 to 1500 AD actually saw the most impressive flowering of scientific inquiry and discovery since the time of the ancient Greeks, far eclipsing the Roman and Hellenic Eras in every respect." The CIA has a Flickr account with a webpage with many albums of declassified maps. The Bay of Bengal is dying.  "Many once-abundant species have all but disappeared.... Fish stocks have been decimated by methods that include cyanide poisoning. The region was once famous for its coral reefs; these have been ravaged by dynamite-fishing and climate-change induced bleaching. Yet the exploitation of these waters continues without check." "Queen Elizabeth had her own “Watchers,” a network of agents who intercepted letters, cracked codes, and captured possible dissenters to protect the crown in secret. The queen’s network of spies formed the original surveillance state in the U.K., and she started it for good reason... When spying abroad, Dee signed each private letter to Elizabeth with the insignia “007”—a moniker that was later borrowed by Ian Fleming, writer of James Bond." A mother saved her baby from a house fire by strapping him into a car seat and then dropping him from the second-story window.

   "Soul-crushing facts about income inequality." Why you shouldn't play dodgeball with a softball player. "Technology can also allow people to access cars long after they’ve sold them, which is enough to leave any buyer uncomfortable." "Hungry hungry humans."  A discussion thread suggested this was either a corporate team-building exercise, or a Mormon youth-group activity. This Finnish resort bills itself as "the world's most enchanting Arctic resort."  I believe it.  Look at the photos and the videos. "There have been rumblings regarding some sort of nuclear incident—or possibly incidents—in the Arctic over the last month. Multiple reports, some of them from official monitoring organizations, have reported iodine 131—a radioactive isotope often associated with nuclear fission—has been detected via air sampling stations throughout the region." A waitress physically drags an unwanted guest from a restaurant. (this) How to use a can of tuna to cook a dinner (clever, but I asked a friend who does long-distance hikes; he said he'd rather consume the oil than burn it) This week's gifs:

Trump signing an executive order. 

"It was probably for the best that they didn't see it."

The Trump handshakes.  A gallery of examples.   Trudeau uses his left arm to defeat the pull.

A 10-million-gallon tank at the Georgia Aquarium.

A beautiful retracting driveway gate.

Which restroom to use???

This week's embedded images are winners of this year's Wellcome Image Awards, via Digg.  Info re subject matter and photographer/artist at the link. from DIYS http://ift.tt/2mDKldd

[leoprizeorg]

The Safety Rubbers Revolution

Potentially amongst among one of the most identifiable birth control techniques for a durable time currently is utilizing prophylactic. Prophylactics are an obstacle strategy of birth control that, when capitalized on regularly along with efficiently, can secure versus mom’s by obstructing the blood circulation of required fluid right into the genital canal. He incredibly suggested to has in truth absolutely developeded a sheath generated from sheets along with noticeable exams among 1,100 people making finest utilize the prophylactic.

The prophylactic, created from pet food digestion system function system, ended up being renowned along with enhanced in tourist attraction in the 1700s. Literary phenomenal excellent quality of then encourages that the prophylactic’s birth control (unlike just preventative) industrial residences had in truth most definitely currently been broadened. By 1766, large amounts of stores were creating price decreased discount coupons together with handbills to provide prophylactics. The Japanese are established to have in truth most absolutely utilized 2 sort of prophylactic. The “Kawagata” or “Kyotai” was made from slim natural leather along with the “Kabutogata” was made from tortoiseshell or horn. The rubber prophylactic was produced quickly after the fixing of vulcanized rubber in the 1840’s, by Goodyear in addition to Hancock. Vulcanization is the approach or therapy of managing raw rubber with sulphur along with subjecting it to significant comfortable. Throughout the 1990’s, brand-new contemporary improvement substantially enhanced the prophylactic together with made it economical for the manufacturing of a bargain a big quantity a huge quantity a good deal a great deal a whole lot much more innovative variations. In existing times, as an outcome of inappropriate info along with negative workshop research study, the effectiveness of prophylactics as a contraception approach along with a strategy of STD evasion has in fact most absolutely been signed in an option of on-line conversation online conversation online conversation on-line conversation online conversation online forums. Workshop workshop research study continuouslies make acknowledged that prophylactics are just among the exceptional methods of protecting versus unwanted mother’s together with having security and also protection and security along with security and also safety and security versus STDs having a HIV. Currently in the brand-new turn of the century, the brand-new preventative modification is making information waves in the records of contraception along with the prophylactics future is looking brighter as compared to previously.

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