Random Thought of the Day: No is a knife.

"No" is the most valuable word in the English language. In any language. It's the sharpest, too. It is a knife. It cuts off the unnecessary parts. It removes the pieces that shouldn't be consumed. It sets boundaries and protects. It's also the primary agent of freedom.

"The primary agent of freedom?!? What are you saying? That's YES!"

No. It's NO. Without No, how can one resist? If all one can say is 'yes', then all you can do is obey. Without No, we're just puppets. If all one can say is 'yes', then you live in a fascist state. Without No, freedom is simply programing.

No is the guiding principle of design and sound thinking. It is the birth of originality. It is a staple of scientific theory. It gives agency to the weak, and checks the strong. 

No is law and order.

No is the key to parenting.

No is the basis of the Ten Commandments.

No is how you know you've had enough.

No is taking off the auto-pilot.

No is the guardian of consent.

No brings you to the point.

No is a knife.

In the News: "Doublespeak Dynasty"

A fun little anti-limerick in two verses.

There once was a man from Nantucket,
Whose only goal was to fill two buckets
With his very own spit,
So he had a long sit
And ordered a meal worth ten ducats.

See, the meal that he ordered was roast goose,
And roast goose, as you know, is full of juice.
But that goose, well, it got loose.
And a goose once loose loses its juice,
So he had not enough spit for his buckets.

Tales of RPGs Past: Cray's lead-in

Picking up from where we left off last time, here's a lightly edited version of my character's lead-in as written by my old college Shadowrun GM, Mark Okuno. I really like how he picked up on the use of my characters and managed to present them in a way that makes me proud. Good on ya, Maruku-san!

RPG writing is fun and unique in that it's one of the only mediums in which you find the use of second-person narrative to be common. The "you" in this case refers synonymously to you, the player, and the character you're playing (i.e. the player character). Here's a good example:

“So, how come they love you so damn much?”

You look across the table at Arliss, as the twins get up, having warmed your lap for the last 20 minutes. You shrug and turn toward Tony who is looking over a black-colored dossier.

“It’s that stupid wig of yours,” Tony mumbles without bothering to look up. “And the eyes … definitely the eyes.” Tony flips through a number of pages.

“They don’t nearly seem so damn repugnant of you, and you ain’t that pretty neither, boy.” Arliss spits back, reaching up to adjust the wig. “It’s not like I don’t wash it now and then.…”

“Why even bother,” Tony continues without heed. “Just look at Red over here. Take that damn thing off. Flaunt it. Flash it.”

Red looks up from where he has been playing a game of round-the-clock solitaire. He reaches up to rub his polished scalp. Turning to face you, the immaculately dressed man pauses to look longingly at the dreadlock-like strands of hair hanging from your forehead. He sighs, then yawns, and resumes concentration upon his game.

“Yeah, well maybe I would if I didn’t have a number of HOLES in my noggin. It’s either this or a hat alright?” Arliss complains as he motions for another round of whatever brew he was drinking.

“How about a dog muzzle for the big one in the front of your face?” Tony looks up, setting the dossier down with his hand on top. “Just give up on those two. They don’t like you that much. What can you do?” Tony motions for a refill on his drink as well, seeing the serving girl pass by, and then the corporate man points a finger toward you. “Get my man here a pitcher of OJ. And ice.”

“So, how does it look?” Arliss asks the Italian as he gives you a once over.

“Cray here is the man for the job, no doubt. Looks like a little action is being put together for a hit on some museum. Extra muscle is what’s on the menu.” Tony looks over at you as well. “So how do you feel, Cray? That last scrap of yours took you out for a while. It’s been a couple of months.”

You look over at the seedy looking corporate man. “I’m fine.” Your guttural response comes out as a growl. “I feel even better.”

“Even your arm? Wasn’t it a compound fracture?” Arliss looks down and starts in surprise as he realizes that you are no longer wearing the cast.

You bend over, reaching down with a massive troll hand, gripping the edge of the table. To Arliss and Tony’s awe and surprise, you lift the cumbersome 50 kilo composite piece of metal and wood a full meter into the air, balancing it level as a board, all the while sitting down. Red grunts and stands up, continuing to flip cards onto the table.

“Holy shit, you’re a freak show.” Arliss whistles, drawing some attention from the nearby booths.

“I tell you, boy, he’s our man!” Tony laughs as he pounds his decker friend on the back. Red nods his head in agreement, eyes stuck to the cards.

“Well then,” Tony continues, “It looks like you’re ready alright. This one’s a private contractor, Cray, and for small timers like us, this is pretty big. This could be the one that puts Troika on the map.”

The serving girl returns with the drinks and Arliss grabs the pitcher of OJ, pouring it into your glass. As she leaves, Red quickly taps her on the ass, his hand immediately withdrawing back to his card game. The young girl turns around suspiciously, but can’t seem to figure out who violated her. Backing away slowly, she quickly turns and heads back toward the bar.

“It looks like a small group of people are being put together to jack something from a corporate owned museum in downtown Portland. This file doesn’t go into too much detail, but there’s gonna be a meet down at the pier on Tuesday night. Your name came up, Cray, as you’re one of the toughest sons of bitches to walk the Barrens, and they’re looking for some heavy duty bastard that can take a few hits.” He finishes, squaring you with a grin.

“Just tell me what I’m getting paid.” You bend over taking the glass of OJ as it disappears in your massive hand. Bringing it up to your mouth, you take a tiny sip as the glass immediately empties. With a sort of reproachful look, you stare at the glass and put it back down. Arliss immediately refills it for you.

“Well it says here that you’re gonna have to meet some guy named 'Scooter' on Tuesday night. You’re gonna have a little chat with him and some of the other goons they’re trying to recruit, and if all goes well, Troika will be wired five grand then, and 35 Gs after you’ve snatched the prize.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “So I still get thirty, right?”

“Yup, thirty percent’s your take on this one: that’s 12 Gs. So go down there, have a look see, and it’s your call on the spot. Just give me a call. We’ll be here.”

“Alright then.” You pick up the glass in your right hand, and the pitcher in your left. Five seconds later, both are empty.

“Remember, Tuesday night 9:30, pier 27. The man’s name is Scooter.” The three of them nod at you.

“Have fun!” Arliss laughs. Red flashes you a thumbs-up.

A private entreaty made public.

Three years ago this week, I was fully entrenched in my new life as an assistant language teacher in Japan. Today, again in the U.S., I look back at the statement of purpose that helped to get me there.

A ten-year-old boy dances out of bed and hurries down the hall; light flickers across his face as the TV screen comes to life, and he is immersed into a world of ninja, katana blades, nunchaku, and mutant turtles. In high school that same boy writes a picturesque adventure story about heroes who live in a world of silk and chrysanthemum, ruled by mighty shoguns and daimyos all of which are loyal to the will of Tokugawa. In college, he studies intently the many colors and cultures of the world—from the science of music and food, to the heart of history—thrilled by them all but drawn time and again to the majestic traditions of Nippon. Fond as they are, these are only memories, and though I have come to learn much about this island of Japan, my true knowledge of it is no less foggy.

Long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with the world of Japan, both its fact and its fiction. Like others of my generation, I have grown up enjoying Japanese anime, eating noodles, rice, and egg rolls, practicing karate, and saving up for when I could afford an authentic samurai sword to hang on my wall. As with learning a second language, you have to go to the place of origin if you really want to master it. Fortunately, I have grown very comfortable using the English language (in speaking, in writing, in storytelling, etc.), and now I see a great opportunity to take my language and my talents to a place I have often only fantasized about, and share them with a people who are eager to learn, and who will no doubt teach me even more.

I am the ideal candidate for a position as an ALT with the JET Program(me) because I am an “every day person.” By that I mean every day I try to make good use of myself. Every day I examine what is around me and figure out how I fit in. Every day I look to find the value of something new, something old, or to take something old and make it new. I know when words are important, and when its better to remain silent. And every day, I try to place myself in a setting that complements my abilities, and strive to make sure my abilities complement others. As such, my teaching experience is extensive for someone of my age, boasting hundreds of days of in-class work with students from kindergarten to senior high school. Primarily, my strengths as a student and teacher lie in the humanities, namely social sciences, literary analysis, reading and writing, history, and religion (though I am capable in all areas, including math and science). My teaching style is low-key and calm, where I am much more likely to wait and listen while observing a situation before moving to act. Though when action is needed I tend to be decisive while exercising discretion. My experience in public speaking and working in many different classroom settings has well prepared me for group instruction, having little stage fright. As a camp counselor and one-on-one tutor I have learned effective ways of mediating disputes in a social setting, by myself or in concert with others. And my work has not been limited only to the local level, as I have thrice served as part of the back stage crew as a member of the Future Farmers of America at national leadership conventions, meeting and escorting celebrities and keynote speakers and coordinating staff and equipment. Thus too, I have tested experience working as a member of a team, as teachers at a school must do.

During my stay in Japan, I would hope to create a personal and meaningful relationship with the school and the community that supports it. I would hope to take part in after-school programs to better acquaint myself with the students I teach, and to work closely and gainfully with the teachers to whom I am assigned. In general, my aim would be to make life-long friends with whomever I came in contact, ensuring our friendship would not end after my contract has run out. In the future, employers would see my experience working with JET as a high-water mark for consideration in hiring me. And, though it would not supersede my responsibilities as an ALT, my hope is that through the inevitable cultural exchange that would follow, further opportunities to pursue my interests in anthropology and archaeology would arise as well.

Random Thought of the Day: Misbehavior is the offspring of the negative interrogative

Doesn't that just sound peculiar?

And so the dilemma begins. Either you agree with me that the above heading sounds peculiar, or you don't. A seemingly innocuous situation, but one which can lead to, admittedly unfounded yet entirely plausible, conclusions. Couldn't it be that our responses to such questions are less about how we truly react to the topic than as to how we react to the manner in which it's asked?

See, I did it again. The manner being presented here is one that almost begs compliance, as if there could be no other alternative. It verily challenges the listener to disagree with the speaker, and it never fails in breeding a sense of conformity. To agree is to instantly be on the same wave length as the speaker, while to disagree only serves to draw a deeper line in the sand. Either you're in or you're out.

Here are some contextual scenarios to help bring this into focus.

How might Cain have behaved if Eve hadn't posed the question this way…?
"Lo, now, dearest Cain, can't thee at least consider pig farming or keeping a pheasantry as a suitable pastime?"

Or one of his many lovers to Alexander the Great…
"Dearest Lex, can't we just settle down somewhere and adopt ourselves a nice little brood of rugrats?"

Or Anne Boleyn to Henry VII?
"Come now, dear, won't you reconsider?"

Or one of his many advisors to Napoleon…
"Pardon my liege, but shouldn't we postpone the advance into Russia until after winter breaks?"

Or one of his many advisors to Hitler…
"Pardon mein führer, but shouldn't we postpone the blitzkrieg into Russia until after winter breaks?"

[Updated July 2018]
Or a common Trump supporter commenting on Trump's words after the Helsinki summit with Putin…
"Wouldn't he have meant what he said after he corrected what he said from that time when he said that one thing?"

But this sort of distinction is detected less in writing than it is in actual speech. The same thing exists in Japanese dialogue with the use of the interrogative tag marker pronounced, "…ne?" In Japanese, the negation's sense of uniform conformity of ideas is more implied and conversational than hard and demanding, but the way in which it's emphasized can really have an effect on the listener. Perhaps it's not the negative interrogative so much as it is the emphasis placed on certain words when speaking in a such a manner. Read the following lines aloud, placing stress on the italics, and observe.

Don't you think a glass of arsenic is good for building strong bones?

Haven't you ever played dodge-the-automobile before?

Don't these jeans make me look porcine?

In every case the danger is obvious. Even if you replaced certain key words with the more standard "milk," "football," or "fat" (in the latter case, gentlemen, the danger is two-fold), you get the same result. Where do you stand? Are you someone with whom the questioner would care to hang out with, or sooner leave dead in the gutter? There's also that tendency when someone tells us what or what not to do, we do the exact opposite. Subversively divisive and pricking us right at our prideful centers, these linguistic devices are gateways into misbehavior, and closely related to that most fiendish of argumentative styles: devil's advocate.

Don't believe me. Why don't you go find out for yourself? (I already know you won't.)