GOJ Awesomeness

podcastThe GOJ has really been on the ball lately about updating agency websites and I must admit, they have been surprisingly savvy about the whole business. I wish I had time to do an entire post introducing each site, but being pressed for time I must limit this to an announcement of the latest bit of GOJ awesomeness, the Council on Economic and Fiscal Policy’s press conference podcast!

From the site:

2006年2月から、諮問会議後の大臣記者会見を、ポッドキャスティングによる音声ファイル配信サービスを提供しています。
ポッドキャスト用RSSを登録することで、定期的に更新データを取得することができます。また、お手持ちの携帯音楽プレーヤーに保存することで、いつでもどこでもお聴きいただけます。
(音声の内容は、当サイト内で配信している「動画でみる諮問会議後記者会見」と同じです。)

Okay, so it’s the same thing as the press conference streaming video that has been on the site for months. But it’s still cool.

Dynamite-wielding Man Tells Hospital “Give me a Shot or I’ll Blow You Up”

Source: Random pic off Google Images
ZAK to the ZAK:

An unemployed 70-year-old man, accused of attempted extortion and violating the Explosives Control Law for taking dynamite to a hospital this July and demanding “Give me my desired injection or else I’ll blow up the hospital!” was sentenced to 2 years and 6 months imprisonment suspended for 4 years by the Wakayama Regional Court today.

Judge Shin’ichi Tanaka scolded the man, explaining, “You inflicted fear and anxiety on the staff of a hospital that cares for more than 300 people.”

According to the judgment, the defendant requested that the doctor give him a shot for stomach pain at a hospital in Gobo City but angered when the doctor refused. The man immediately went home, retrieved the dynamite, and returned to the hospital, demanding the injection from doctors near the entrance. Also, the man was in illegal possession of 150 sticks of dynamite in his home.

The defendant was arrested for a red-handed violation of the Explosives Control Law when he was arguing at the entrance. He reportedly admitted how he got the dynamite, saying, “I was storing the leftovers from my public works job.”

Questions (My Japanese legal experts please feel free to weigh in!):

  • Umm, nobody noticed 150 sticks of dynamite missing?! Maybe regulations covering explosives need to be enforced before they catch someone threatening to blow up a hospital with dynamite stolen from a construction site. This guy’s neighbors should be pissed off right now over how inefficient Japan’s legal system makes suing the government over such gross negligience.
  • It’s not out of the ordinary for a 70-year-old man to be “unemployed” is it? For crying out loud, the retirement age in Japan is 60!
  • What are the chances that this man is senile (or worse) and needs serious treatment? Probably pretty good. I mean, maybe the judge took that into consideration when he gave him a suspended sentence, but that just means this guy’s back on the street, possibly all alone (and who knows, maybe they let him keep the dynamite!)
  • Did he ever get his freakin shot?
  • (Click below for Japanese story)
    Continue reading Dynamite-wielding Man Tells Hospital “Give me a Shot or I’ll Blow You Up”

    Recommended reading: Okamoto’s Iraqi “Food” Diary

    If you’re “nihongo-ready,” or don’t mind wading through unreadable text to look at awesome photos, visit Okamoto’s Iraqi “Food” Diary. Hiroshi Okamoto is a photographer who went to Samawah, Iraq on assignment. He took pictures of food, people, more food, more people, and the occasional borderline war zone. And, like any good Japanese person, he complained about the lack of beer.

    Adamu’s initial response: “That is the most hep blog ever… tagging AND Iraqi food!”

    When too much language is not enough

    One of my best friends from college is now working as a pharmacist in Florida (a hell of a job to end up with after so much time in school). She’s Japanese. When I met her, she didn’t speak much English at all; now that she has a difficult graduate degree under her belt, she knows a bit too much. She recently told me about one situation where she politely asked a patient about the “efficacy” of his medication. The patient had no clue what she was talking about. After a minute of miscommunication, someone else behind the counter suggested that she say “Does it work?” instead.

    The story reminded me of one experience I had in high school in Osaka. I had an earache one day, and went to the local ENT clinic to have it checked. The doctor, a wizened-looking old lady, peered inside and told me, in English, “You have timpanitis.” “Timpanitis?” I asked. That certainly wasn’t in my vocabulary at the time. She repeated the word a few times until I eventually figured out it must be a fancy way to say “ear infection.”

    There were many occasions when someone would ask me about a certain phrase in English, and I wanted to explain that the phrase was a metaphor for something else. In most dictionaries, the Japanese gloss of “metaphor” is in’yu. While I memorized that word, I never met a single Japanese person who understood what it meant, even when I wrote it out; after a few failed attempts to communicate, someone suggested that I use chokuyu (“figure of speech”) instead. That one actually works.

    Anyway, knowing too much of a language can often have the same effect as knowing not enough. I suppose the moral, especially for those of us working in wordy fields like law and medicine, is to keep things as simplified as possible. Imagine how much easier things would be if we all followed that rule…

    Afterthought: “Metaphors in law are to be narrowly watched, for starting as devices to liberate thought, they end often by enslaving it.” – Benjamin Cardozo, former Supreme Court justice (apparently lacking a sense of irony…)

    アダム君の単語帳

    Ouch!
    Here I am, researching on Japan’s FDI policy, and I thought you might like to see some of the lame words I am coming across (definitions copied from ALC, the best general dictionary for translators out there, and JDIC via JWPCE):

    # 迂回

    circuit // circumvention // roundaboutness // turning movement

    # 障害迂回

    fail-over〔主にコンピュータシステムで、エラーが起きたときにそのエラーをやり過ごす(何もなかったかのように振る舞う)ための機能。たとえばサーバーなら、エラー時にすぐ別のサーバーに自動的に切り替わるようにしておく〕

    # 迂回させる

    【他動】divert

    # ~に迂回させる

    【他動】detour

    # 包摂

    class inclusion // subsumption

    # タイプ包摂

    type subsumption

    # タイプ包摂グラフ

    type subsumption graph

    杞憂 【きゆう】 (n) absurd fear, needless anxiety

    # あたかも~かのようである

    be as close as

    # あたかも~かのように

    as if〔〈用法〉as if 節の中で直説法を使うこともある〕

    # あたかも~であるかのように

    as though〔〈用法〉as if 節の中で直説法を使うこともある〕

    # あたかも~のような

    【形】apparent

    * 社内きっての敏腕家
    ablest man in the whole office
    * 自民党内きっての変人
    the strangest fellow in the Liberal Democratic Party [[Unsurprisingly, a Google search shows this to be none other than our man Koizumi!]]

    If you thought politicians in your country were immature — Part II

    In keeping with Roy’s recent post on immature politicians, my previous post on a past dissolution of the Japanese Lower House, and the recent dissolution of the current Lower House by Koizumi, I thought it apropos to write today about a past instance in Japanese politics where immatuure politics led to the dissolution of the Lower House — the バカヤロー解散, or “name-calling dissolution.”

    The incident in question occured on February 23, 1953 during a meeting of the Lower House Budget Committee (衆議員予算委員会) as then Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru (吉田茂) was questioned by Nishimura Eiichi (西村栄一) of the rightist faction in the Japan Socialist Party (右派社会党). Yoshida’s outburst during the questioning session would eventually lead to Yoshida’s dissolution of the Lower House, and finally to elections.

    Here is an abridged transcription of the exchange:

    西村「総理大臣が過日の施政演説で述べられました国際情勢は楽観すべきであるという根拠は一体どこにお求めになりましたか」

    吉田「私は国際情勢は楽観すべしと述べたのではなくして、戦争の危険が遠ざかりつつあるということをイギリスの総理大臣、あるいはアイゼンハウアー大統領自身も言われたと思いますが、英米の首脳者が言われておるから、私もそう信じたのであります(中略)」

    西村「私は日本国総理大臣に国際情勢の見通しを承っておる。イギリス総理大臣の翻訳を承っておるのではない。(中略)イギリスの総理大臣の楽観論あるいは外国の総理大臣の楽観論ではなしに、(中略)日本の総理大臣に日本国民は問わんとしておるのであります。(中略)やはり日本の総理大臣としての国際情勢の見通しとその対策をお述べになることが当然ではないか、こう思うのであります」

    吉田「ただいまの私の答弁は、日本の総理大臣として御答弁いたしたのであります。私は確信するのであります」

    西村「総理大臣は興奮しない方がよろしい。別に興奮する必要はないじゃないか」

    吉田「無礼なことを言うな」

    西村「何が無礼だ」

    吉田「無礼じゃないか」

    西村「質問しているのに何が無礼だ。君の言うことが無礼だ。(中略)翻訳した言葉を述べずに、日本の総理大臣として答弁しなさいということが何が無礼だ。答弁できないのか、君は……」

    吉田「ばかやろう…」

    西村「何がバカヤローだ。バカヤローとは何事だ。(以下略)」

    (My) Translation:


    Nishimura
    : What exactly was the basis of the Prime Minister’s statement during a recent policy speech that the international situation was optimistic?

    Yoshida: I wasn’t saying that the international situation should be optimistic. I think that the British Prime Minister and President Eisenhower themselves had said that the danger of war was receeding and because the American and British heads of state said so, I also belive it to be so (abbv.)

    Nishimura: I’m asking for the Prime Minister of Japan’s outlook on the international situation. It’s not like I’m asking for a translation of the British Prime Minister`s outlook. (abbv.) This isn’t about the optimism of the British Prime Minister or some other foreign Prime Minister (abbv.) The Japanese people are questioning the Prime Minister of Japan. Isn’t it natural that Japan’s Prime Minister should state his outlook and policy on international affairs? I think it is.

    Yoshida: My answer just now is my answer as the Prime Minister of Japan. There’s no doubt about that.

    Nishimura: I don’t think the Prime Minister should get so excited. There’s no need to get that worked up, is there?

    Yoshida: Don’t be so impudent.

    Nishimura: What’s impudent?

    Yoshida: You’re impudent.

    Nishimura: I’m just asking you questions. What’s so impudent about that? What you’re saying is impudent. (abbv.) What’s impudent about my asking you, as the Prime Minister of Japan, without using [Churchill’s*] translated words, to answer me? Can’t you answer? You…

    Yoshida: You Idiot!

    Nishimura: Who’s the idiot! Who are you calling an idiot?

    The transcription ends here, but Nishimura went on to demand that Yoshida retract his comments, which Yoshida finally agreed to do. However, this was not enough to mollify Nishimura, whose party introduced a disciplianry measure (here’s a great new Japanese word one does not often run across –> 懲罰動議•ちょうばつどうぎ) on March 2. The measure passed in part due to the absence of a number of Yoshida’s own Liberal Party (自由党) members (it would still be two years before the formation of the LDP), notably those members close to Hatoyama Ichiro, who would later suceed Yoshida as Prime Minister, and Hirokawa Kozen, who at the time was serving as Agriculture Minister in Yoshida’s third cabinet.

    But the retaliation did not stop there. Tweleve days later a motion of non-confidence was passed, which resulted in Yoshida’s dissolution of the Lower House and call for elections. Yoshida managed to be reelected Prime Minister and would hold on to power for almost two more years before resiging as Prime Minister and head of the Liberal Party.

    (For the single, but excellent, online English language account I was able to locate, please see Mayumi Itoh’s article The Depurging of Hatoyama Ichiro: Power Struggles in Postwar Japan in the online journal E-ASPAC I should point out that it is from this source that I have used the english translation, “name-calling dissolution.”)

    * Because the transcription provided by Wikipedia was abridged in several places it does not specifically mention Churchill’s name. However, this additional transcription found here fills in some of the gaps, including Nishimura’s criticism of Yoshida’s frequent quoting of foreign leaders, Churchill among them.

    A Happening Happpening.

    Since Roy and I seem to be trading rather interesting posts on language (here, here, and here), here’s another great Japanese word that I just happened upon and happen find amusing. It’s also an example of how as words become transplants from one language to another, they often undergo slight changes in meaning or nuance.

    From today’s Asahi online edition:

    ヤンキースタジアムで3階席の少年がネットに転落

    2005年08月10日22時29分

    9日の大リーグ、ヤンキース―ホワイトソックスでファンが観客席から転落するハプニングがあった。

    I’ll be nice this time and spell it out, but it says: Kokonoka no dai ri-gu, yanki-zu- howaitosokkusu de fan ga kankyakuseki kara tennraku suru hapuningu ga atta.

    I’m not quite sure how to translate that literally using the actual word “happening” as it is used in the original Japanese without adding additional, implied information. I guess it would read something like this: “At Tuesday’s Yankees – White Sox game there was a happening (where a fan) fell from (his) seat.”

    The reason I find this word so amusing is that the word happening is overwhelmingly used in English as a verb, not as a noun – though it also occasionally shows up as an adjective. Nevertheless, it somehow managed to make the jump to Japanese as a noun and has survived. I tried to think of common usages as a noun in English, and the best I could come up with is “fortuitous happening.” A few fruitless Google searches later, I gave up and just turned to the The Columbia Guide to Standard American English, which had this to say:

    A happening is an event, especially a noteworthy or dramatic one, or one staged deliberately for theatrical effect, as in Her parties were always planned to be happenings, intended to be talked about for weeks afterwards. The word is Standard.

    Being very unscientific about this inquiry, I feel that using happening as a noun has always had a slightly antiquated feel to it. It’s the type of word that I might expect to hear a Brit use with regularity, but one that just somehow sounds a bit odd coming from the mouth of an American too often.

    In Japanese, happening is used only as a noun (although there is an entry in 英辞朗 of the noun ハプン but I’ve never heard or seen this word used before) and refers to an unexpected or surprising event – like some kid falling out of his seat into the safety net at a Yanks-White Sox game. Here’s the definition as provided by goo 辞書:

    ハプニング 1 [happening]

    (1)思いがけない出来事。偶発的な事件。
    「―が生じる」

    (2)予想外の、意表をついた出来事の表現効果を積極的に追求する演劇・絵画などにおける前衛的芸術活動。

    Coincidentally, while reading up on Japan’s September 11th general election, I happened across ハプニング once again, which I could only call a fortuitous happening. On May 19, 1980, then Prime Minister Ohira dissolved the lower house and called for elections. The name of the dissolution?

    ハプニング解散

    Unfit for the Salamander – A lesson in Japanese etymology

    Occasionally I run across a word or phrase in Japanese that I recognize only because I know I’ve looked it up at least two or three times (if not more). Yet for some reason the meaning just won’t stick with me. This happened earlier today while reading the Asahi at work. This time I intend to do something about it, as well as provide an interesting language lesson for any of our readers who are slowly killing themselves learning Japanese.

    The phrase in question today is particularly irksome because of its idiomatic nature. I know the meaning of the individual words, but haven’t an inkling what the hell the phrase as a whole means. It’s as if someone was conversing with you in English and described a situation as “unfit for the salamander.”

    So now that I’ve hopefully gotten everyone’s attention, here’s the sentence with today’s mystery phrase in bold:

    森氏は会議後、記者団に「はっきり言って、さじを投げた」と語った。

    Literally, it means, “to throw the spoon.” So the entire sentence literally translates as:

    After the meeting Mr. Mori told reporters, “Honestly speaking, [I] threw the spoon.”

    So what’s it mean? It means to give up on something.

    And just how did it come to mean this? Isn’t that obvious? The Japanese eat with chopsticks, don’t they? Just as the occasional foreigner who visits Japan today and manages to master the art of eating with chopsticks will be repeatedly praised by his hosts, at one time it was equally difficult for Japanese to master the art of eating with a spoon. As anyone who’s tried eating with chopsticks knows, sometimes you just want to throw them on the ground, go for a fork and just dig in. Well, apparently Japanese used to feel the same way about spoons and would often throw them down in resignation.

    Okay, okay. I just made all that up. And honestly speaking, that story was about as unfit for the salamander* as one can get.

    Actually, the real story as best I can tell is this. The meaning derives from a situation where a doctor diagnoses a patient’s recovery to be hopeless. At one time medicine was prepared with a spoon and once it was determined that someone was a goner, there was no further need to continue preparing medicine and the doctor could just “throw in the spoon,” so to speak.

    If anyone out there can add any clarity to this little history lesson (and my money says that Roy can), I will be looking forward to any additions in the comments section.

    * As of 6:41 pm on August 8, 2005, the phrase “unfit for the salamander” did not show up on a Google search. It may be a safe assumption that I am among the first, if not the first, to actually use this phrase in a sentence.