Japanese Company Rents Out "Uncles" to Do Your Chores, Give Advice, Or Listen to You Vent

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iStock

In Japan, being referred to as an ossan is not a compliment. The term is a rude way to say "uncle," and it typically brings to mind the stereotypical image of a messy, out-of-shape middle-aged man who likes to tell long stories and crack corny jokes. But one 50-year-old fashion consultant from Tokyo is trying to counter the negative connotations attached to the word with a TaskRabbit-esque service staffed by older men, according to Business Insider.

Takanobu Nishimoto launched his business, Ossan Rental, in 2012. Through his site, clients can rent an ossan for 1000 yen ($8.82) an hour to perform a wide range of services, whether it's help moving, serving as a date to a wedding, or just being someone to vent to for an afternoon. The idea is that a mature man's life experience makes him useful in a variety of situations, but Nishimoto believes that the service benefits the ossan as well, helping him gain confidence and giving him a reason to spruce up his appearance.

In the company's early days, Nishimoto himself was the only ossan available to rent, but today, customers have close to 80 uncles to choose from. Everyone on the site is personally screened by Nishimoto, both for safety reasons and to ensure their personality is a good fit for the company. (Long-winded talkers usually don't make it past the application process.) He also charges each ossan an 88.89 yen a month membership fee and requires them to sign a one-year contract.

When he founded the service, Nishimoto expected to get most of his business from young men looking for life advice. Instead, most of his clients today are women in their 20s to 50s. He receives roughly 900 reservations a month, with the most popular ossan in the database receiving 50 to 60 rental requests.

The business model has become so popular that it has already spawned copycats in Japan. (There are international variations on the idea, too—Brooklynites can "rent a mom" for $40 an hour.) If you're in Japan and want to rent from the original, visit ossanrental.thebase.in to find an ossan for hire.

[h/t Business Insider]

Man Opens Can of Beans, Finds Just One Bean

Oli Scarff/Getty Images
Oli Scarff/Getty Images

In Heinz-sight, Steve Smith should’ve ordered take-out for his Tuesday night dinner.

The 41-year-old Conservative councilor in Bristol, England told The Independent that he returned home late from a residents’ meeting and tore open the last can of Heinz Beanz from a multipack in the cupboard.

What he found inside would’ve broken the spirit of even the most steadfast optimist: A pathetic, lone bean drowned in a sea of savory-yet-unsatisfying bean juice.

Smith handled the catastrophe the old-fashioned way, by tweeting a video of his miserable meal and tagging the culpable corporation.

“I thought it was funny—but annoying,” Smith told The Independent. “I thought they might see the funny side.” Heinz responded with an apology and a request for Smith’s details, hopefully to offer him a lifetime supply of beans.

To put it in perspective, an average can of Heinz contains around 465 beans, enough to make your intestines groan. Smith said he eats a can every couple weeks.

For those of you worried that the woebegone bloke went to bed famished, you can rest assured that this story has a happy ending ... at least if you associate happy endings with eggs. Smith scrambled some up to fill the leguminous void in his stomach (and his heart).

[h/t The Independent]

Here's Why You Can't Keep Your Loved One's Skull

hayatikayhan/iStock via Getty Images
hayatikayhan/iStock via Getty Images

Even if showcasing your grandfather’s skull on your living room mantle is the type of offbeat tribute he absolutely would have loved, your chances of making it happen are basically zilch. Mortician Caitlin Doughty explains exactly why in her new book Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?: Big Questions From Tiny Mortals About Death, excerpted by The Atlantic.

Having written permission from dear old Gramps stating that you are allowed to—and, in fact, should—display his skull after his death simply isn’t enough, for two reasons. First of all, most funeral homes lack the equipment required to decapitate a corpse and thoroughly de-flesh the skull. Doughty admits that she doesn’t even know what that process would entail, though her best guess for a proper cleaning involves dermestid beetles, which museums and forensic labs often use to “delicately eat the dead flesh off a skeleton without destroying the bones.” Unfortunately, the average funeral home doesn’t keep flesh-eating beetles on retainer.

The second hindrance to your macabre mantle statement piece is a legal matter. In order to maintain respect for the dead, abuse-of-corpse laws prevent funeral homes from handing over corpses or bones, but the terms differ widely from state to state. Kentucky’s law, for example, prohibits using a corpse in any way that would “outrage ordinary family sensibilities,” but leaves it entirely open to interpretation how an “ordinary family” would behave.

Sometimes, of course, it’s relatively obvious. Doughty recounts the case of Julia Pastrana, who suffered from hypertrichosis, a condition that caused hair growth all over her face and body. Her husband had her corpse taxidermied and displayed it in freak shows during the 19th century as a money-making scheme—a clear example of corpse abuse. Since the laws are so ambiguous, however, funeral professionals err on the side of caution.

Funeral homes also must submit a burial-and-transit permit for each body so the state has a record of where that body went, and the usual options are burial, cremation, or donation to science. “There is no ‘cut off the head, de-flesh it, preserve the skull, and then cremate the rest of the body’ option,” Doughty says. “Nothing even close.”

If you’re thinking the laws sound vague enough that it’s worth a shot, law professor and human-remains law expert Tanya Marsh might convince you otherwise. As she told Doughty, “I will argue with you all day long that it isn’t legal in any state in the United States to reduce a human head to a skull.”

The laws about buying or selling human remains also vary by state, and are “vague, confusing, and enforced at random,” according to Doughty. Many privately sold bones come from India and China, and, though eBay has banned the sale of human remains, there are other ways of procuring a stranger's skull online “if you are willing to engage in some suspect internet commerce,” Doughty says.

[h/t The Atlantic]

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