MY ETERNITY -- PRAISE THE LORD ANYHOW By Chris Mathison (1983)

(Editor's note: The author wishes to point out that all of the phrases and slogans printed herein are real and have been seen on the streets of Tokyo. Not a word was made up. Not by him anyway.)

    Last night I dreamed I died and went to Japanese teen heaven.

    At first I thought I'd get along fine since everyone at the heavenly arcade gate seemed to be speaking my language, but soon discovered they were all yakking in a strange dialect derived completely from shopping bags, stationery, T-shirts and TV commercials.

    "Welcome to Club Heaven," St. Peter greeted me. "Please, let's enjoy without thinking disgusting things. Become a super hero of Team In. Because, when our hearts are free and young, fashion is the way of the world."

    "Huh? Say, I'm new here. I don't quite understand."

    "Oh, I see, just a lonely boy in town. Well, let me introduce you to some of the others."

    Standing beside him were three high-energy, ultracute groovy guys. St. Peter beckoned me forward.

    "Gladding meet you. Fight on!" shouted G-Boy, pumping my hand, clenching his fist, flashing the peace sign and giving high fives all at once.

    "Next, meet our Happy Preppie from Mississippi."

    "Nicely be meeting you. Hey, hey, it's new life now, isn't it!" beamed Preppie while doing a back flip.

    "And this is Mickey Mouse from UC Berkeley."

    "Yeah, I figured it out from your T-shirt," I said to Mickey, who was spinning like a disco top.

    "Haro! Say, you looked tired -- how about a super sports drink? Some Sweat? Some Calpis?" offered Mickey.

    "Er, no thanks," I said, no longer thirsty. "By the way, what did you guys do for beautiful human life before you died?" I was beginning to catch on to their lingo.

    "Hai Teen Boogie!" they cried.

    "We were the new wave generator," explained G-Boy, "forever living the famous songs and favorite fashions from the ‘50s. One Sunday a typhoon hit Yoyogi Park and blew us all the way to here."

    "Naruhodo the worldo," I replied.

    St. Peter suggested that all three of my exuberant companions show me around. So, after promising to "take enjoymently in sport" and "have fine teamwork together," off we went in a cartoon flash.

    The arcade I'd entered turned out to be no paradise at all, but a kind of labyrinthine "Exciting Purgatory" for drunken businessmen who were too out of shape right now for the do-everything world beyond.

    Until they could either sober up or find their way out, the penitents had to stumble around the maze while a million wind-up toy animals yelped and nipped at their heels. And woe to anyone who tripped and fell.

    They went straight to Club Hell.

    There, larger-than-life PacMen simply gobbled up the miscreants as soon as they arrived. I shuddered reading the sign at Inferno's entrance -- "We bacteria belong to a bold new breed dedicated to keep ourselves and everything around us clean."

    Getting through the lower worlds, however, was no pocari for us because G-Boy, et al., knew the high-teen route by heart. We simply zoomed straight to paradise on skateboards, yelling, "Let's work sweat up" all the way.

    Club Heaven itself was actually a collection of thousands of specialized groups catering to every conceivable interest. Everybody had to join at least one.

    There was Bjorn Borg's Do Scooting Exercise Member's Club with an entire line of exclusive "do scooting" fashions for every member. There was a Central Park, Hawaii All-Star Number One Sailing and Water Hockey Team Championship Association that looked pretty elite; a theme park called Joyful Bunch that showcased every cartoon character who ever walked, crawled, flew, swam or gurgled; and an NCAA Sports Club, whose motto, "We are the first to assault all life's challengings and exciting endurances," seemed catchy.

    But in the end I decided to follow Preppie's advice and enroll at "UCLA-Heaven, the widely known University for Athletics and Hot Massage."

    I was fortunate because I was just in time for the semester's big event -- the annual UCLA Beauty, Personality and Song competition. As we filed into the Rose Bowl in the sky, I marveled at how it had been transformed into what had to be the largest, most glittering and elaborate TV quiz set ever constructed.

    Imagine hundreds of 18-year-old Japanese girls all outfitted in pastel spaghetti-strapped party dresses and you get part of the picture. Imagine 100,000 riveted, ecstatic youths in junior high uniforms packing the stands, and you get the rest. For these were the finals. This was it. Tonight, one of these lucky girls would be crowned UCLA' s Homecoming Princess of Pout!

    Each girl held a microphone in one hand while clutching her favorite stuffed animal with the other. All of them looked on the verge of tears. Since they were all equally petite, bubbly and cute, it was obvious that the upcoming personality interviews, and later, the song competition, would decide the outcome.

    "Contestant number one, Keiko-chan," boomed Bert Parks, his resonant voice filling the starlit stadium, "Tell us, what do you really want out of your afterlife?"

    "Oh, gee, that's easy," gushed Keiko, "a ¥200 million wedding at My New Otani!"

    "Oh really? Now, that would mean a super My Championship Honeymoon with an eeenormous sumo star, wouldn't it?"

    "Yaaaaaadaaaaaa," shrieked Keiko in three octaves as her hand shot upwards to cover her mouth.

    G-Boy quickly explained that this was part of the compulsories: the judges pay very close attention to holding all the notes in a yada; they expect good hand-to-mouth coordination throughout; and the same scrutiny applies whenever a contestant whines out an uso, or simply pouts.

    "Here's contestant number two, Kumi-chan. So, young lady, what's your super idea for life at Team Paradise?"

    "Being cool isn't the only thing in life. It is life!!!" shrilled Kumiko, squinting her eyes, clenching her fists and running in place, "so don't let some hot shot ruffle your feathers."

    The crowd leapt to its feet and chanted, "Fight on! Fight on! Fight on!"

    The same question was put to the other contestants. "Be individually basic, sweet, nice and really sugary," admonished Yumi-chan. The crowd again roared its approval.

    "Be a sing-a-song writer-singer, meet Mr. Guy and go artificial surf-making," advised Kyoko-chan. The throng yelled, "Keep charging!" for a full five minutes.

    "Be a true-to-your-school winner and keep challenging fashion's spirits," implored Aki-chan, and got a standing ovation. The police had to be called in to control the frenzy.

    However, it was much later in the evening when Yoko-chan, the eventual winner, finally spoke. I'll never forget her sparkling performance. Throughout her interview, Yoko's uso and yada intonations were flawless, her pouty expression classic, her hand-to-mouth technique exceptional.

    "California dreamin' in Long Beach, a healthy day in the life of me. Neat and now feeling in Super City -- let's squash! Now, with a joy in my heart, I say gay togs is the super idol of girls. It's so neat. Fine."

    I mean, what more could any girl say?

    The best hit song of the evening was awarded to runner-up Rei-chan's "Boogie Woogie Puppy Love/Yum, Yum, Follow the Sun," although I must admit I thought Nami-chan's "I love cookies/Hot me" medley should have won. It's hard to explain, but her lyrics had a certain poignancy. I'll never forget the imagery in the closing refrain:

    "The twilight kittens' soft, peaceful symphony dances to feat of the flickering stars."

    As the stage lights dimmed and the sweet music faded, Yoko managed to hold her wounded countenance for what seemed like eternity. That look will haunt me forever, I'm certain. To me, it symbolized what UCLA's Homecoming-in-Heaven and pouting princesses are really all about.

    So did the cosmic fireworks display that celebrated the newly crowned princess and concluded the festivities. A million Roman candles exploded all at once, and high in the sky above the Rose Bowl they spelled out their fiery commandment: "Praise the Lord Anyhow!"