Once every few years, a website comes along that changes the world. First there was Google. Then there was Facebook. And now, Things That Look Like Buttholes.

If you’ve never before noticed that so many things look like buttholes, you will now. You can even participate, too! Sign up for a free Tumblr account and let the fun begin.

Happy Hunting!

As is our custom, we have found ways to convolute, pollute and dilute the significance of important events. Thus, Easter is now about hidden eggs and Thanksgiving is about football and having to buy looser pants. Do we even remember the original meaning of these days? Sure! Maybe. Well, no. Eggs and turkeys, to paraphrase Morpheus, is just the world that has been pulled over our eyes to blind us to the truth.

And so it is with July 4th, our nation’s birthday. It wasn’t always about eating contests.

There was a time when we were under tyrannical rule, and the people had had enough. Thomas Jefferson crafted the Declaration of Independence, a powerful document full of the things that make America what it is: resolve, defiance, racism.

In the Declaration, Jefferson cited myriad reasons why the old system blew royal chunks and laid out our case for independence. Among the many complaints about the King were that:

• He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance…
• He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
• He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
• He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
• He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
• For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent
• He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

Yes, TJ called the Native Americans “merciless Indian Savages.” You don’t always see this part quoted anymore. Look, it’s a great country, but let’s not sweep our penchant for racism under the rug. Let’s try to learn from that. Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. Sergeant Riggs, I’m talking to you!

And speaking of ignoring history, do any of the other points he brings up sound familiar to you?

Right now, the Federal Government is filing a lawsuit against a state for a law the state passed. Right now, Congress holds closed door sessions and leaves us in the dark. Right now, the government is considering throwing out the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners. Right now, the government has become bloated with a multitude of New Offices. Right now, new taxes are heaped upon us without our consent.

There was a time when we were under tyrannical rule, and the people had had enough. Think about that today. Think about what made this country great, and the people that made it possible. Think about the brave people who are thousands of miles away from home today trying to make this country and the world a better place. Then think about what you might do to help.

Or you can take the blue pill. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe, hunting for eggs and getting fatter from turkey dinners.

(Blog from 2007. Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself tomorrow. Also, sorry about the dated Chris Benoit reference. If it helps, think of it as watching an SNL rerun with Darrell Hammond doing a Clinton sketch. It probably won’t help, though.)

I am the proud owner of an Apple iPhone.

I love everything about it: the things it does, the way it looks, how I can actually get a signal in my own damn house. (I had a phone with Verizon Wireless, but I could only get one bar of signal if I stood with my head against the back window of my house. Nice. Where’s that Elvis Costello-looking douchebag in the green jumpsuit and all his thousands of network peeps? Not at my house, that’s where.)

But aside from loving the little thing, I’m a geek and gadget freak. If you aren’t one, then you won’t understand my problem. A very large part of the experience of any new gadget (especially one as heralded as the iPhone) is getting it home and unboxing it. Sometimes you can’t even wait to get it home, you unbox it right there in your car at the mall.

So to my great pleasure I was able to get an iPhone on opening day, Friday, June 29. Picked it up at 10pm on my way to a gig at the Laugh Factory. So I had to debate whether or not to open it then or get it home first to activate it and enjoy all the features. I chose to wait. But that meant I had to wait another three hours. Oooh, sweet anticipation!

Upon arriving at the Laugh Factory, Dane Cook showed me his iPhone that he just picked up. I guess he couldn’t wait. But he couldn’t do anything to it except “Slide To Unlock” until he got it home.

So after doing the show, (I can’t even remember how the show went, I was so awash in geek joy) I rushed home to get my own iPhone unwrapping underway. Ran into the house, removed the box from the bag and set it down on the coffee table in the living room. This was going to be awesome!

“But wait, I should probably wash my hands first,” I thought to myself. Can’t have all of this outside world grime getting on my precious new toy. And off I went to the bathroom to use the Bath & Body Works Fresh Pineapple Anti-bacterial Moisturizing Hand Soap with Green Tea Extract and Shea Butter. I would have used the Ivory soap I usually use, but I decided to go with my wife’s freaky chick-soap to kill all the germs and make my hands lovingly soft so as not to mar the shiny new surface of my iPhone.

And when I get back into the living room, there’s my wife, holding the unwrapped iPhone in the air. Turning from side to side, getting her damn fingerprints all over it. “Is this the iPhone?” she asks.

Aaaaaaaiiiigggghhh!

“Curse you, woman! I will stab you in the butthole with a breadknife!” I scream on the inside. But out loud, I said, “Uh, yeah.”

She looks at me and says, “Oh, it’s cool, I guess.”

All this time I had been waiting, drooling, dreaming had been for nothing! It’s like dating a virgin for a year, marrying her, and on your wedding night you walk into your bedroom to consumate your marriage, only to find her naked and straddling the bellhop saying, “Oh, this what the big fuss is all about?”

Perhaps if Chris Benoit had gone off the deep end a couple of weeks later, I might suspect his wife had opened his iPhone before he got to. But now we’ll never know.

If there are any lawyers reading this, please let me know if I have a case for annullment. Even 5 years into a marriage, this has got to qualify.

Hey Hawaii, I’m coming back for some shows! The only public show on Oahu will be Friday July 9, 8pm, at Pipeline Café! Doors open at 7pm, so you may as well come from work and have dinner at Pipeline too. New chef, new menu, good stuff.

**Update** The LMFAO concert after my show has been rescheduled for a later date. If it helps, you can think of me as LMFAO: Little, Mad Funny, Asian Orator.

Then I’m doing a show in Kona the following night and military shows around the state with Comics On Duty.

Tickets are on sale now! CLICK HERE TO BUY TICKETS ONLINE.

Pipeline Café is located at 805 Pohukaina Street, Honolulu HI 96813. Please call the club for more information at (808) 589-1999.

When the car bomb failed to detonate in New York City’s Times Square, you had to believe the persons responsible would keep their heads down and start drawing up another plan in the cave sand. Instead, we get a press release from the Pakistani Taliban claiming responsibility.

Isn’t the first rule of gloating that you have to freaking win? Everybody knows that.

Well, maybe not everybody.

But we’ve gotten better in recent times. When we thought we killed the Pakistani Taliban leader, Hakimullah Mehsud, we gloated. We gloated because we thought we ’sploded him good. Then he turned up in a video shot after we thought we killed him. Oh well, we stopped gloating. That’s how this works.

In our defense, have you seen this guy? He’s got an adamantium skeleton! Look, here he is in his latest music video with knives shooting out of his neck all Wolverine-stylee.

I wonder if that says “Mission Accomplished” in Terrorist right behind him?

My point is this: you can only brag when you succeed. There are so many unclaimed miseries the Taliban could have put their name on. If their publicist is reading this, here are some things they might lay claim to:
• Lady Gaga’s wardrobe
• Tim Tebow being drafted by Denver
• When I stubbed my toe on my coffee table last month.
• The extinction of the Pyrenean Ibex
• Jersey Shore
• Anything directed by Alan Smithee
• William Hung
• Ewoks
• Herpes
• and Paris Hilton.

Once again, i’ve scheduled an overseas trip during a season finale of ABC’s Lost. Except this time, it is the series finale. The last episode in what is probably the greatest television series in the history of ever, next to The Tortellis.

And being out of the United States means I can’t even watch Lost the next day on ABC.com.

So I turn to you, good people. I need somebody to record the entire 2.5 hours (or more) of the Lost series finale, burn it to DVD and then mail it to me in Hong Kong. Or you can meet me at the Tom Bradley international terminal at LAX. But if you’re going to meet me at the airport, you’ll have to burn the DVD and get your butt to LAX by midnight after the show airs.

You’ll be rewarded. I don’t know what your reward will be, but how about i start up an entourage, since that’s apparently a must-have in the entertainment industry. Then you can be the first member of the entourage. You can be the Turtle-type who’ll be in charge of driving, electronics and gaming. Or you can be the Johnny Drama, provided you once had a career in the biz and can cook. It’s up to you.

I AM SERIOUS! I CAN’T GO A WEEK WITHOUT SEEING THAT FINALE!

If you are a fan of Lost, you especially can’t pass up this opportunity to be at LA X on a time-sensitive mission before I embark on a transpac flight. Do it!

Sometimes you see the strangest stuff while on the road. Here’s the toilet paper dispenser in my hotel room at the Army’s Aberdeen Proving Ground.

What the hell? Why is it so low?

Now, I’m not the world’s tallest guy, but even I think this is ridiculous. It sits across the toilet and near the floor. Which means that when you need some, you have to lean forward and down. Like in the airplane “crash position” position, but way worse. You run the risk of leaning too far, falling over, smacking your head on the tile and being found dead, ass-up in the bathroom like Elvis.

If you never hear from me again, just know that this is how I met my doom.

Although, I am at an Army base. So maybe this hotel room is meant for this guy:

Lost is only my favorite show ever. EVER! So it tears me apart to know how it will end. In a bitter sweet turn of events I know someone who knows the creative geniuses behind the show. And that person has hinted to me how the series will end.

If you do not wish to ruin the fun of seeing it unfold as it airs, then stop reading. But you know you’re going to click for more.

I hear it ends like this:

After defeating the Smoke Monster, Jack tells all the Losties, “I treasure you people.” They do a big group hug and, en masse, they slowly move to the submarine. Before the submarine hatch closes, Kate yells to Jack, “I left you a note this time!”

He bids them all farewell and stays back to take over Jacob’s job on the island. He walks to the lighthouse and from the top floor, he can see Kate’s note, the words “GOODBYE. I ALWAYS LIKED BONING SAWYER BETTER.” spelled out in stones on the ground. Jack stares into the now-repaired mirror. He drifts off, mumbling, “I can see my house. I can see my house.”

Suddenly, Jack wakes up, still screaming “My house! My house!” He finds himself in bed next to Kirsten who tells him, “Charlie, we sold it already. We sold it so that Bailey could have a failed spin-off show. Go back to bed.”

Exterior shot: it is snowing. The camera pulls back to show that Charlie’s house is in a snow globe. The globe is then smashed onto a concrete floor, and from its wreckage a key is grabbed by a prisoner. It is Wo Fat. He laughs maniacally.

A director yells, “Cut! That’s a wrap.” As the crew tears down the Hawaii Five-0 set, the camera pans over to executives at the Hawaii Film Studio on the slopes of Diamond Head. One says, “We’ve got another show planned about a Ferrari-driving gumshoe. But what about after that?” Just then, a tour group passes by. A 14-year old kid with thick-rimmed glasses and a name tag which reads, “J.J.”, says, “I have an idea.”

Cut to black, insert copyrighted “thud” noise and Lost title.

Usually, I will do a show and just collect the check. Strictly quid pro quo. I get it, show business equals show plus business. Occasionally, however, someone throws a smiley face curve ball my way and makes my day.

I’m not even talking about the diva contract riders you hear about, demanding extras such as green M&M’s in a glass bowl, white rose petals in the toilet or ice-cold bottles of organic baby whale tears. That is extra stuff you demand, making it not really extra stuff. (I’ve even done this a couple of times just to see if I could get away with it. I’ve asked for and received a trackball mouse and even a 10-pound bag of uncooked brown rice. Call me J-Lo. Or P-Og, I suppose.)

No, I’m talking about the truly bonus items that you didn’t ask for or expect. Like cash tips. Those are always nice.

Earlier this week, I did a show at a hotel and in my room was a big gift basket. I’m talking big. Like child car seat size.

Here’s the inventory of the goodies:
1 Hershey’s Chocolate milk box
1 Juice box
4 Bottles of water
1 Banana
3 Oranges (They might be 2 oranges and a tangerine, but I’m no botanist.)
1 Apple
4 Slim Jims
2 Bags of chips
1 Bag of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish crackers
1 Large roll of cookies
2 Snickers bars
1 Chap Stick
1 Tub of Body Butter
1 Pack of Wet Wipes
1 Personal grooming kit with nail clippers, etc.
1 Sewing kit
1 Pack of Kleenex
1 Bottle of hand sanitizer
1 Note pad with pen
1 Lint roller
1 Travel coffee mug
1 Mini-basket of assorted tea, hawaiian punch and instant Starbucks
3 Lollypops
4 Different little bags of cookies
1 Pinwheel
1 Yo-yo
and a wind-up walking monster. (Pictured above)

I was going to take a picture of the big basket, but I couldn’t get far enough away from it to fit it all in. You should just try to find it on Google Earth. Shouldn’t be too hard.

I’m entirely grateful for this bountiful cornucopia of kick-ass snacks and swag. It’s like they robbed a convenience store and shoved it into wicker.

Nice surprise in an otherwise usually not-nice, unsurprising biz. Take note, potential clients. The bar has just been raised.

I do have big plans for the body butter and then the wet wipes.

It was Aristotle that once said, “I don’t care where you go, I don’t care what you do. I don’t care pretty baby, just take me with you.” And now you can. Through the magic of teh Internets, you can now buy my new CD, “Paul Ogata Stands Up, Live in Hong Kong” online on iTunes.

Except, of course, they get it all wrong. The album is called “Paul Ogata Stands Up, Live in Hong Kong.” But they call it, “Stands Up Live In Hong Kong”, by Paul Ogata. Although I must admit their title almost sounds Chinglish, which makes it at least a little bit appropriate.

I guess I should have went with Mayhem Miller’s suggestion and called the album, “Jackie Chan Sings The Blues.” Oh well, maybe next time. What ya gonna do?

Anyway, you should totally buy several copies, as I stand to make pennies per copy! You guys buy enough of these and I might end up a hundredaire!!!

Click HERE, puto!