Yay Japanese Marketing Pt. III

As gambling is illegal in Japan (not including national lotteries, scratch tickets, and horse racing) there is, for those with the urge to flush huge sums down a toilet without the damage to plumbing systems, pachinko, which provides endless hours of entertainment to those with the mental acuity of fruit (no offense meant to fruit). Pachinko is a game where a machine sucks up 10,000 yen notes like a vacuum on a late-night infomercial, and in return, it provides a small amount of ball bearings. These are fed into a large hole and are then shot out the top of what is always described as a pinball machine turned vertical. They then tumble down through a series of pegs, bouncing this way and that, until they eventually land in one of several holes. The player has some small amount of control over the speed at which the balls are shot out by means of a small doorknob-like device, but your choice of speed ranges from high speed to ever-so-slightly less than high speed (no doubt the quicker to separate you from your balls - make your own joke here). If you do manage (and by you I mean complex Newtonian physics beyond your calculation) manage to get a ball into certain holes, you are rewarded with even more silver balls.

Modern machines are similar to Vegas slot machines with the player having control over holding certain conditions etc., and these machines are called pachisuro, a portmanteau of pachinko and slot (pronounced, suroto). Pachinko parlors are usually deafeningly loud, smokey, and lit to induce seizures with blaring techno, pulsing lights, and seven lit cigarettes for each player. The balls can not be exchanged for money since gambling is illegal (aside from horse racing, the national lotto, scratch tickets, and boat racing which I previously forgot to mention). The balls can be traded for prizes and there are small storefronts, often little more than a literal hole-in-the-wall, that are desperate for such prizes and will pay money for them. These operations are located separate from, but conveniently next to, the parlor. So everything is clearly above the board.

Now where does the header of this post come into play?


Well, there are many parlors which call themselves pachisuro or sometimes Pachinko and Slot (because they have traditional slot machines that work on the same balls-prizes-cash triangular trade). One I pass everyday bears this awesome name:



Thank you for staying with me all the way for that punchline - hope it was worth it

URLs and Japanese writing - Like Ike and Tina Turner: an untennable combination

ワワワ。東京三菱銀行。コム

This is what the internet must look like to those who are not born and raised on the Roman alphabet (which judging from my analytics report is a small percentage of readers.) Those of us tutored in the ways of the ABCs are fortunate for two reasons: first is that our compact 26 letter Roman alphabet is so compatible with the binary-centric world of computers. And second, that the Internet was developed by ABCers.

For example, my name "Dan" in ASCII text converted to binary is

"0100010001100001011011100000110100001010"

But when converted to a katakana reading as ダン (Katakana by the way is the Japanese writing system now primarily used for writing foreign words like my name) the binary representation is

”0010011000100011001100010011001000110100
00111000001100000011101100100110001000110
01100010011001000110101001100110011000100
111011”

which is just over 3x the number of ones and zeros despite being only two characters.

(Serious diversion alert: This is probably an extremely boring, mildly technical and profoundly wrong explanation of what the previous means - if you are following feel free to skip ahead to the ASCII smiley face)

ASCII (American Standard Code for Information Interchange) is the name of the numerical code used by computers to understand numbers, letters and punctuation marks. Since "A" doesn't mean crap to a computer, it is converted to a code of zeros and ones. With a set of 52 letters (caps and lowercase), 10 digits, and a handful of punctuation marks the binary code for each can be much shorter since the grand total comes in at 95 printable characters. (yes, since 2007 the internet uses UTF-8, but from the seven seconds I spent reading about it on wikipedia, they seem to be fairly similar, one is 7-bit, the other is 8-bit; go shout it from a mountain).
Since ASCII doesn't have Kanji, Hiragana, Katakana, the Cyrillic, Greek, Hebrew, Thai, or Korean alphabets (etc. ad nauseam). It converts them into a five digit numerical code which then is converted into binary. The crux of it all is that they use up loads more memory since there are over 2,000 standard characters in Japanese, and over 10,000 in Chinese.

: )

welcome back. All this goes to say that URLs are not necessarily the easiest things for non-ABC users to commit to memory. While we in the ABC world can see www.Honda.com, or (in the case of the opening salvo) www.Tokyo-MitsubishiBank.com and remember it as a word, for others it is a matter of memorizing a string of, at worst, meaningless, and at best, begging to be misspelled, characters. And we all know what Firefox, Chrome, and IE think about misspellings: Tethered Swimming (Simpsons fans you're welcome)

So what does this mean for Japanese marketers eager to get customers to a website? it means "検索" or, kensaku, which is Japanese for "search" (in terms of google or yahoo that is)

Most TV or billboard ads don't give a URL, rather they give an image of a term entered into a search box with a kensaku button next to it telling the viewer to go the the search engine of their liking and enter that term (you can of course search in any language you like) to find the webpage you are looking for.

Here's the kicker - this means your company must be on top of SEO (Search Engine Optimization*) like a casino on a card counter. You must know the Google search algorithm like a 12-year-old at a madras knows the Koran. Except it isn't published and it changes all the time (the algorithm that is, not the Koran). Imagine you make a billboard telling potential customers to search for Nakamura Construction, but then all of a sudden some ass-hat with the last name Nakamura murders the head of another famous construction company - very likely stories related to Nakamura and his 9-iron-to-the-head antics will quickly surpass your website sending your potential customers straight to the website of some paparazzi orgy of innuendo, gory details, and questionable police photographs.

And you just paid for all that.

Next time you curse phonics, just think of that, and what your life would be like entering urls like the one at the top.

*Enough with the intrusive asides - SEO is the manipulation and modification of a webpage to ensure it is the first result returned by a search engine. It is generally influenced by textual content, page title, visitor traffic, external links, frequency of update, and other factors.

This is Why We Can't Have Anything Nice!

So perhaps my last few posts have been less than praise-full of Japan. One might say they have bordered on the somewhat critical. Perhaps you ask, "why would he willingly subject himself to living in such an insane place?"

to which I respond:

A) Is the place you live so inanity-free? Things I can now go through my day without hearing include (but are not limited to) discussions about how socialist the concept of public healthcare is; extremely loud cellphone conversations held on the bus; anything to do with the last season of "Lost"; any mention of the Tea Party movement at all; a complete absence of Glen Beck in all forms.

B) The insanity, be it as it may, is generally more on the side of amusing, and less on the side of spirit crushing.

C) The food is really really tasty without the risk of your heart tweeting about an 'epic fail'.

In addition to the complete lack of overt banality, comes a society filled with features that only make life as an ordinary citizen a fulfilling and rewarding experience.

Exhibit A) Public restrooms that are clean, and available for use without purchase of anything, or prostrate begging for a key attached to the hub cab of a 1970s boat-car. Guess what the streets don't smell like (hint: rhymes with and is spelled the same as "piss")

Exhibit B) Store clerks who will never regard your patronage as some unconscionable intrusion on their mobile-device-facebook-update personal time, conveniently being taken at the precise moment you so rudely wanted a coffee.

Exhibit C) Public transit that puts a public library to shame in terms of cleanliness, comfort, and quietness.

And for more on C, see below...



This is an interior shot of the bus I take everyday from the train station to school - the seats are, as they appear to be, plush and soft and have never been within a mile of a injection-molded plastic machine. Now, we too could have such soft and supple posterior support if we could just resist the need to carve our names into every surface that ever presented itself to our stars-and-stripes loving asses. The bus has many other features that make MUNI (SF pub. bus) look like a rickshaw service crossed with a pyramid scheme and a severe understanding of entropy.

One would be punctuality. Despite winding mountain roads and unpredictable gravel trucks, my bus manages to arrive at the 30 minute-hence bus stop within a two minute window every day and never leaves late.

Second would be adequate air conditioning - much appreciated in the flop-sweat inducing summers of Japan

Third would be change-making technology that most public US buses resist like the USSR resisted the White Album (it's good, it won't destroy you, and everyone wants it)
You can throw in 1,000 yen and get not only change, but a mixture of coins that will allow you to pay any fare exactly (fares are based on distance traveled, which you show by presenting a ticket you grab when boarding - the ticket is printed with a different number at each stop to keep you honest), you can also break a 500 yen coin in a similar fashion - and this wonder-machine is planted at the front of every bus ready to make your day that much easier - never a need to beg some half-witted shop-keep to make change while they smugly explain to you that they are not a bank, just in case you though the Sunrise Deli was a major financial institution.

Ahhh...good to be back....

James Bond is a Moron

James Bond once commented on the perfect temperature for sake (by the way - it's pronounced Sa-kay, not "Sa-kee" which means "earlier" or "before") - After some inane banter about how women come second if at all, he mentions the ideal temperature sake.

Well that is a load of unchi - There are apparently a number of temperatures at which sake can be served. First there is reishu (冷酒), which is chilled sake - ideally served at around 10 degrees centigrade (use the converter at the bottom for Fahrenheit)

Next is straight from the bottle or hiya (ひや）

From there to James Bond's malarkey are a number of levels with a variety of names. The next one I could find was called hito no hada (人の肌) meaning a person's skin - roughly 30 degrees or so.

Then comes nurukan (ぬる燗) which is luke warm - around 40 - 50 degrees

Finally is atsukan (熱燗 ) which is the real hot stuff around 70

There are a variety of levels in between to suit people's tastes. Apparently one trick to getting more bang for your yen is to order one temperature and whinge about it being too hot or cold and getting them to top it off with a bit more of a lower/higher temperature.

The great thing about atsukan is that even the grungiest gutter sake is palatable at these high temperatures.

For the lower temperatures, especially hiya and reishu, you need to have the good stuff or else the bite is a bit much.

Forgivness Please

With end of term tests approaching I have been buried at work so the posts have been postponed but I will be back in action shortly - many things to talk about so please check back throughout this week. Hoping to avoid Karoshi (working to death) in the mean time!

When Textbooks go horribly wrong

From the depths of Mombukagakusho (文部科学省) – the Ministry of Science, Culture, and Education, we now join a meeting already in progress, where the brightest minds of pedagogical science are currently approving the always grammatically questionable pages of the latest middle school English text book:

English Textbook Approval Board Sub-Section Chief Nakamura speaks:

Gentlemen, that concludes our twenty-six page coverage of the grammatical structure of kantanbun or exclamatory sentences, a structure so frequently used in English conversation (at least according to last year’s textbooks) and so fiendishly difficult in its construction that it requires at least four weeks of intensive study. Or as the text would say – “What a useful grammar point!”…yes, yes, calm down, I know it was a terribly clever joke, but back to business and let us continue with the next section where we will impart the critically important meireibun or imperative sentence structure, a structure no decent future captain of industry can go without. So Mr. Takahara, why don’t you start off with the example sentences you have prepared.

Deputy English Approval Board Divisional Vice-Chairman for Questionable Examples Takahara:

Ah, yes most honorable sub-section chief Nakamura. Well, I have constructed four good examples of imperative sentences that I humbly offer for your consideration, along with illustrations to help reinforce the meanings.

First we have “Don’t touch.”

Nakamura: I hear that all the time from the schoolgirls on the subway!

Takahara: We all do sir. Now, for this sentence we have an image of a man warning a child not to touch the wet paint on a fence. For no particular reason we have included an additional picture of a boy with incredibly long arms doing the dance from the Thriller video.

Nakamura: Very good, moving on.

Takahara: Indeed. Next we have the sentence “Walk.”

For this we have an image of a woman dragging a child across the street. We don’t know why the child is sitting in the road impersonating a kettle, so to help clarify we have another image of a boy doing the Robot from Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto, so that is two obscure 80’s references in one section.

Nakamura: Excellent, these obscure references will really drive the point home I’m sure.

Takahara: You are too kind sir. Now for number three, we have “Write your name.”

For this illustration we have a child whose head has gone completely backwards on their shoulders as if…

Nakamura: Ah! The Exorcist – it’s like The Exorcist!

Takahara: Your astute observations are indeed the reason you have risen to such a high position. That and your superior age. And as you can see we now have three examples that somehow reference the music and film of the 80’s.

Nakamura: Wasn’t The Exorcist from 1973?

Takahara: Ah, yes, well Exorcist III was from 1990, which is technically the last year of the 80’s according to extremely persnickety people like me who celebrated the new millennium in 2001 alone in a basement shunned by normal people.

Nakamura: My heart swells with pride – you have truly outdone yourselves.

Takahara: I grudgingly accept your effusive kindness though I am in no way worthy of such words from you sir. Now, for the last example, we have the sentence “Read this book.” For this illustration we have chosen a picture of a man menacingly pointing to a copy of his book “My Life” with a dark shadow across his face…and a tiny moustache.

Nakamura: Hmmm…he looks familiar…was he in an 80’s movie too?

Takahara: No, no, this was just a completely random image our boys in the graphics department cooked up…no references to anything here.

Nakamura: But…there is something familiar about him nonetheless, like he is the kind of person who could really give an order.

Takahara: Yes, well, the boys upstairs are very good. But again, completely fictional and not based in any way whatsoever on a real person.

Nakamura: That moustache…that book title…My Life…My Struggle…Mein Kampf – Good God Takahara! That’s Hitler!

Takahara: I don’t know this Mr. Hitler of whom you speak.

Nakamura: You are proposing that we put Hitler in our textbooks as an example of imperative sentences?!

Takahara: Again, no idea what you are talking about…sir.

Nakamura: Surely you jest! The most infamous mass murderer of the 20^th century? The instigator of the Second World War (which is not to be confused with the War of the Pacific where we honorably defended our homeland by conquering half of Asia) will be in our textbooks threatening our children to read his racist diatribe as a grammar point?! Are you mad!?

Takahara: Is there a problem with this sir?

Nakamura: Of course there is a problem!! He has absolutely nothing to do with the 80’s! You know the criterion for use in our textbooks – it must make references to outdated popular culture, and for this book we are going all 80’s – why else would all our photos of foreigners feature people with feathered hair and tight jeans sitting in a kitchen with earth tones, and those Scandinavian ski sweaters ?

Takahara: Well, he made a cameo in Last Crusade in 1989…remember – he signs Indiana Jones’ father’s diary at the book burning?

Nakamura: Oh does he? Well, in that case – as long as he meets the criterion, I can see no possible problem with using Hitler in our textbooks. I mean, he did give a lot of orders and this is the chapter on imperative sentences - Hitler approved!

Toweriffic!

Nobody likes a good tower like my lovely compatriots here in the land of the rising sun. Every town worth its rice harvest has thrown up some stately phallus to show the rest of Japan just how in league with the steel and concrete industry they are. The most famous is of course the Tokyo Tower, which is also the Jeopardy “answer” to the “question”.

The Eiffel Tower is most commonly mistaken for this by Japanese people under the age of twenty, despite one being a classic bronze color, and the other being painted like a road flare.

Clearly not the Eiffel Tower

It stands a majestic 333 meters (165 pints) and was built in 1958 (assuming anything on Wikipedia is true - but if you think I am doing any more diligent research then you clearly have no idea what this blog is about: glaring inaccuracy and poor punctuation).

However, as mentioned, most municipalities with running water and a population topping six have some form of tower.

There is the Osaka Tower - The result of a space shuttle gantry mating with a complete lack of imagination - a paltry 102 meters (75 degrees F) - hardly befitting of Japan's second largest city, and a structure so unimposing that despite living seven years in the Osaka area I didn't know it existed until tonight:

Not featured on any postcards ever

Then there is the Yokohama Tower at 106 meters (478 troy ounces) - which just looks like it was never quite completed.

One pointy bit away from proper tower-dom

The Sapporo Tower at 147 meters (5 fortnights) - because whatever Tokyo can do, Sapporo can do smaller and somehow uglier. I imagine the construction went as such:

Aoki: Hello Mr. Hashimoto!

Hashimoto: Good Day Mr. Aoki, what are you working on there?

A: Why these are the plans to the new Sapporo Tower, the pride of Hokkaido!

H: What a smashing pile of steel and such!

A: And what are you working on these days?

H: Why these are the plans for a container ship we are constructing to help send our superior electronic goods to all corners of the globe!

A: Brilliant - well, I won't keep you

{Heads bump in a poorly executed bow - briefcase contents spill across the floor}

H: My word! How horribly clumsy of me

A: Never! It was completely my fault

H: I think I have all my pages for the container ship.

A: And I believe I have all my tower documents - good day!

(1 year later)

A: Sweet merciful crap! We seem to have built a ship's bridge into the middle of our tower! Well, let's call it an observation deck and be done with it!

Aoki's subordinate: Sir, it's only seventeen meters off the ground, the lower level's view is threatened by a not-particularly tall pine tree...and it's green.

A: Well, be that as it may, I am observing your insubordinate ass making his way to the unemployment line tomorrow morning.

The digital clock adds what we call "class"

Moving on we have the Kyoto Tower at 131 meters (67 fathoms) - which I think is kind of cool in a "World of Tomorrow" way except that:

a) You can't stick your tower on top of a 9 story building and then claim to be 131 meters tall just like you can't get your height measured at the doctor's while on stilts.

b) This is the first thing you see when you exit Kyoto station. Kyoto prides itself on being the traditional city with small winding streets and a still somewhat active geisha district. The city is lousy with temples, shrines, and history. It is the former capital (although a quick peek through Japanese history will show that just about every town was at one point the capital) - yet your first view of this bastion of antiquity is a "131" meter concrete rod with an orange doughnut crammed on top.

No city escaped the sixties really - it's like a giant birthday candle on your tragedieth birthday cake

Hey! It's the Chiba port tower! It took me longer to type that sentence than it did to design this piece of crap!

Proposed Motto: "Showing what you can do with a straightedge, a pencil, and 34 seconds"

Living in Kobe, I may be biased, but in my profoundly subjective opinion, the only tower worthy of a refrain from mockery is the Kobe Port Tower.

But be that as it may, I still have to admit that it looks a lot like a massive 108 meter (75 furlongs) Chinese finger trap.

At least it isn't shaped like the Eiffel Tower

There are countless others (Nagoya, Hakata, Beppu) but most are increasingly miniature versions of the Eiffel Tower.

which brings us to our point (hell yeah there's a point) - Most of there are Transmitting towers for TV and radio stations, meaning that as ugly as a lot of them are, they are ostensibly serving some function (function before form?) And since we all know that terrestrial TV and radio are the wave of the future, it makes absolute perfect sense that the government is sinking roughly elebenty squajillion yen into the construction of the Tokyo Sky Tree, which will top out at nearly 700 meters - almost 2100 feet (twice the height of the current Tokyo Tower) - Scheduled for completion in 2012 it is currently at about 370 meters. It will serve the fifty-six remaining people in Tokyo who don't have cable or satellite TV.

Now competing for the number one ranking in "places you better pray to the deity of your choice that you are not near when Tokyo finally gets that massively overdue earthquake."