McHeartAttack, the .JP Way

We briefly interrupt our World Cup coverage to bring you the following Public Service Announcement:

McDonald's Japan has brought back the best fast-food sandwich in the history of the universe, the Tamago Double Mac (with cheese). This sandwich is a celebration of cholesterol: two "beef" patties, topped with a huge Egg McMuffin-style slab of egg, bacon, cheese, and Big Mac sauce.

But it is here for a limited time only (last year, it was the Sandwich of the Month for October), so git yer keister over to the Golden Arches!

I'm lovin' it.

Elementary (Arithmetic), My Dear Watson

Is what it will take to see the US into the next round now.

To get down to brass tacks, we must beat Ghana, and one of the following things must happen (in order of descending likelihood):

1. Italy beat Czech, or


2. Czech beat Italy by at least three goals, and we beat Ghana by at least three goals, or


3. Czech and Italy draw, and we beat Ghana by at least six goals.

In the former case, the final Group E table sees Italy well clear at the top, with seven points, followed by the US, with four points, and Czech and Ghana with three. Easy to see what happens here: Italy and the US go through as the top two finishers in the group.

In the second case, we get into the somewhat arcane magick of goal differential. Which is actually not that arcane, as my example will show. Here's what happens:

• Czech beat Italy 3-0


• US beat Ghana 3-0

This leaves Czech clear at the top of the group with six points, but Italy and the US tied in second place with four points each. How to break the tie? Simple: just add up all of the goals scored for and against both teams. Before the final match, Italy had three goals for and one against, a differential of +2, while the US had one goal for and four against, for a total of -3. After the final, add no goals to Italy's differential and subtract three, leaving them with -1. But add three to the US's differential and subtract none, and you get +0. So the US moves on.

So the best strategy for the US is to beat Ghana by a metric shit-tonne of goals. That way, even if Italy cannot beat Czech, we still might be through on differential. Still, six goals more than Ghana scores is a tall order, so we'd better all don our Italy jerseys on Thursday.

Japan's road through to the next round is similar in terms of mathematics, but worlds different in terms of difficulty. For they must beat defending world champions Brazil , and they must do it by two more goals than the difference between Croatia and Australia if Croatia wins, or three more goals if Australia wins. Take a look at the current Group F standings to see what I mean.

If Japan can beat Brazil by four or five goals (since the slimmest margin of victory for either Australia or Croatia is one goal), they certainly deserve their place in the second round.

Chances of the US going through? 75%, since both the US and Italy are likely to win, thus making all my talk of goal differential a moot point.

Chances of Japan going through? 1%, since nobody beats Brazil by four or five goals.

Don't Cry for Me, Maradona

Three words can sum up Argentina's performance last night: Oh. My. God!

If you didn't happen to catch it, you missed the biggest blowout of the World Cup thus far, as Argentina fed a steady diet of uppercuts to an increasingly punch-drunk Serbia and Montenegro until the referee stopped the fight. Too bad football does not have TKOs!

To quit the boxing metaphor, what I actually mean is that Argentina won 6-0. And against a Serbian side that looked pretty decent in qualifying, and held their own against the Netherlands in their first match of this World Cup. Argentina deserved to win, given the football seminar that they put on. It was textbook stuff: precision passing, nifty dribbling, great delivery, and best of all, deadly finishing. Against a weaker side, Argentina probably would have been good for another few goals, as well as they were playing.

Maxi Rodriguez picked up a brace to join the 10-way tie for the Golden Shoe, but for me, the most exciting player in the match was easily Lionel Messi, the talented 19 year old who joined the game in the 75th minute. He looked explosive the first time he touched the ball, driving past two Serbian defenders just outside the penalty box, before laying off for a give-and-go that his teammate could unfortunately not connect. Just two minutes later, he beat the defence down at the end line, drove into the goal area, and then put the ball right onto Hernan Crespo's foot for an easy goal. But he was not to be held to just an assist, as he slammed home a goal of his own in the 88th minute.

I cannot wait to see more of this amazing player. Of course, I might have to wait until the next round to do so, depending on how badly Argentina wants to beat the Netherlands--the two meet in Group C's final match on Wednesday. They may not want to risk an injury to Messi, and thus use him sparingly, even if it means a loss to the Dutch. All Argentina needs is a draw, which would leave both teams at seven points, but Argentina waaaay ahead on goal differential. A 6-nil result does wonders for goal differential, no? :) But I were managing Argentina, I would not chase Holland if they go up on a late goal, as a loss would simply mean finishing second in the group. And since there is not much difference between Mexico and Portugal, who are currently leading Group D, I don't think it matters who they face in the first game of the second stage. Also, finishing second in their group would put Argentina in the same bracket as England, a side with whom they have quite the historical grudge. That is, of course, assuming England gets past Ecuador, in clear violation of my predictions.

In any case, I will predict that Argentina has no trouble with whoever they face first in the next round.

Getting back to the game itself, it would have been sheer joy to watch, had it not been for one annoying factor, namely that the referee, a certain Robero Rosetti, apparently had his head lodged in his arse for most of the match. I have not seen so many fouls given in a long time: 14 called against Argentina, and an unbelievable 22 against the hapless Serbians. Oh yeah, and add to that three yellow cards and a red card to Serbia, and a yellow to Argentina just to maintain the illusion of impartiality. He called numerous fouls on Serbian players for challenging the ball, which I thought was kind of their job, when their opponents have possession. I mean, it is one thing to tackle from behind, or come in late, but it is another entirely to slide for the ball while the attacker is trying to run onto it. The latter is just good defending, but apparently not in the mind of Mr. Rosetti.

The sending off of Mateja Kezman in the 65 minute was especially egregious. The challenge that caught the referee's one good eye (OK, so he was not really wearing an eye-patch, but can you imagine a pirate referee?!) appeared to be completely legitimate in the replays. OK, call it a foul if you must, but even a yellow card would have been ridiculous in the situation. A red card was just unbelievable.

I certainly hope that Rosetti does not get another match at this or any World Cup. The game would certainly be better off if he never officiated over another football match in his entire life.

But other than that, very entertaining football indeed. Hope you were watching, Mauro!

England Fails to Impress

England may have been the second team (after Germany) to qualify for the second stage of the World Cup, but they have not impressed me much, and I predict that unless they start generating some goals, they are going to crash out of this tournament before the semis. Hell, they have a good chance, in my opinion, of being beaten by Germany or Ecuador, in the very first match of the second stage.

Allow me to explain. England pretty much has a lock on Group B, as they face second-place Sweden for their final match of the group stage, and they are going to get at least a point (I am predicting that a draw will be the worst result for England against the Swedes, who frankly have not looked at all impressive this go 'round). As winners of Broup B, England will face the runner-up from Group A, which will be determined when Germany and Ecuador meet on Tuesday. Ecuador actually leads the group on goal differential (5 GF, 0 GA versus 5 GF, 2 GA for ze Germans), so if Germany wants the group, they need to do better than a draw against Ecuador. And Germany definitely wants to win the group, since that would put them up against Sweden in their first match of the second stage, not England. And even though I think England is due for a rude awakening, they are certainly a much stronger side than is Sweden.

So here's what I see happening: Germany beats Ecuador 2-1 on Tuesday. England beats Sweden 1-0 (I don't see the English getting past their offensive woes against the Swedish defence, which has not conceded a goal yet, but I don't see the Swedish attack, which has only generated one goal so far, overcoming England's touch defensive backs).

Germany beats Sweden 3-0 in their first match of the second stage, while Ecuador beats England 1-1 in penalties in their first match.

And these are the gutsy, unpopular predictions that you can only get here. So dig in, folks.

Oh yeah, and let me just close in saying that I hope I am wrong about England, as I really like their team. Maybe Wayne Rooney will be the magic bullet that fixes their offence. But I doubt it.

Spanish Bombs

On the Costa Leipzig. I'm flying on a DC 10 tonight, fueled by Corona, la cerveza mas fina. (Unravel that one, ya bastards!)

I am quasi-live blogging this whilst watching the Spain vs. Ukraine match (and by quasi-live, I mean I am composing this entry in vim on my laptop, which is currently not connected to the Net, thanks to the 80 cm ethernet cable that Leopalace provided), and I can say that this match, only 23 minutes old at this point, is already easily the best match that I have seen thus far in this World Cup. Spain is up 2-0 (thanks to a header by Xabi Alonso in the 13th minute, followed by a spot kick from David Villa that deflected off one of the Ukranians in the wall), which makes me very happy (I love Spain's football team, though it is not one of the four teams I am passionate about: Bulgaria, Ireland, Japan, and the US, for the record), but what makes the match great is that both sides are playing fantastic, beautiful football. In fact, I just had to stop typing for a minute while Spain mounted two great assaults on the Ukrainian goal (both unfortunately unsuccessful).

Lots of precise passing, lots of skillful runs off the ball to get in position, and great ball control: that's what I am talking about when I say beautiful football. Oh yeah, and Andriy Shevchenko's presence on the field. Even though I am hoping that he remains shackled today (as he has been thus far, even being goaded into committing a foul of frustration after being dispossesed by a cool Spanish defender), the man is one of the greatest strikers in the game today, and has long been a favourite of mine, since his days with AC Milan.

Of course--speaking of great strikers who I have long idolised--Raul is noticably absent from the Spanish side of the pitch. I know that he has been less effective at Real Madrid than usual during the past two years, but he is still Spain's leading goalscorer, and I would like to see him get the chance to add a few more notches to his heavily-scarred belt during this campaign. With any luck, we'll see him subbed in towards the beginning of the second half.

I know that Spain historically disappoints in the World Cup, despite being pregnant with offensive menace and tight defensively, and I know that this year, they are lighter on the talent than ever, and Raul is not at his best. I know all of this, but seeing how Spain is dominating this match against a very worthy opponent indeed, I am reassured about their chances. The second round is a lock after the three points which they are almost sure to take home tonight. Mark my words (and you may call that the second of my predictions series)!

At minute 40, the Ukranian players are showing more than a little frustration. They'd better settle down, as the last thing they need at this point is a bunch of players who are inelegible for the next match due to a yellow card awarded here. One has already been given, to Andriy Rusol in the 17th minute, and Andriy Voronin deserved one just not, with a brutal challenge from the ground at the back of a Spanish attacker's legs.

Speaking of Voronin, he just tested Iker Casillas thoroughly, with a well-timed run into the area. Casillas was up to the challenge, coming off his line quickly to smother what could have been a real chance. Of course, he was called offside to boot, but the replay clearly showed that the call was mistaken. Shevchenko, on the other hand, was well offside a minute later, which makes his tally for the match about four, by my count.

Real chance for Spain again, with David Villa dribbling deep into the area, half a step ahead of his marker! But the Ukranian defender just got in the way enough to get a piece of David Villa's shot, allowing Oleksandr Shovkovskyi, the Ukraine keeper, to collect the ball safely.

The first half has just ended, so I'll post this as a Blogger draft.

Live blogging now!

Minute 48: David Villa now has a brace after a smartly taken penalty kick. Spain 3-0! The penalty seemed a bit frivolous, however, and Vladyslav Vashchuk certainly did not deserve to be sent off with a red card, but that is what he got.

Minute 51: Villa almost finished a hat trick, but his shot was turned away by Shovkovskyi, and the rebound finally collected without further damage.

Minute 52: Another yellow card for the Ukraine, this time shown to Vladimir Yezerskyi.

Minute 55: Raul is in for David Villa! What did I say earlier about chances of seeing Raul early in the second half? Who is prophetic, now? :) As happy as I am about seeing Raul, it is a shame that Villa had to go off without another shot at his hat trick (which would have put him at the top of the list for the Golden Shoe).

Minute 60: Raul tests Shovkovskyi from 25 metres, then Voronin misses left by centimetres on a quick counterattack.

Minute 65: Spain has a free kick from 30 metres, but it is weakly taken and deflects wide. Nothing doing from the resulting corner kick for Spain.

Minute 67: Raul puts a vicious header on goal, but Shovkovskyi is equal to it. Damn!

Minute 72: Spain is rushing a few passes, leading to a good buildup by the Ukraine, but Serhiy Rebrov launches the ball about 100 metres over the bar from five metres in front of the goal.

Minute 73: Great pass from Raul sets up Sergio Ramos deep in the area, just to the right of the goal, but he cannot finish.

Minute 75: Ukraine wins a corner, gets a shot from 18 metres, but Casillas is his usual awesome self and gathers the shot without breaking a sweat.

Minute 76: Shevchenko is lucky not to be shown a yellow card for a dangerous play, namely a face-level kick at the ball, which a Spanish player happened to be in the process of playing with his head.

Minute 78: Spain is still trying to force passes. Why? They are up 3-0, so they should be taking their time to build up, like they did early in the match. Come on, guys, I want to see Raul get a goal. Make it happen!

Minute 81: Fernando Torres gets a goal on a brilliant play that starts with Carlos Puyol taking the ball off a Ukrainian player, executing a sweet spin move to avoid two Ukrainian defenders, passing the ball off for a give-and-go, and then feeding Torres the assist. Spain 4-0!

Minute 86: Shevchenko squirts a weak shot at Casillas, who handles it, then sets up a quick counter by Spain, which finishes with Fernando Torres feeding the ball in just a step ahead of Raul, who cannot beat the keeper to it. Come on, F.T., put the ball in Raul's stride and we'll have a fifth goal!

Minute 88: Wasted corner for Spain. We want a Raul goal! We want a Raul goal! Say it with me! We want a Raul goal!

Minute 89: Voronin goes up for a high ball waaaay outside the area against Casillas (what are you doing, Iker?!), wins the ball, gets behind Casillas, and somehow fails to get off a shot before he is dispossessed by a defender. Ukraine wastes the corner kick, of course.

Minute 91: Shevchenko offside again!

Minute 92: Shevchenko finally beats the offside trap, makes three Spanish defenders look rather foolish, forgets to shot, and then finally has his late shot blocked by a defender who recovers.

The match is over, Spain wins 4-0! Hurrah!

With Spain taking full points from this match, they move to the top of a very weak Group H. I'll go out on a limb and say that as long as Spain does not self-destruct, they have a real chance at making the final four this time! And they are long overdue for a good run in the World Cup. Viva Espana!

Predictions, Part I

I hate to go with the pack on this one, but I pick Brazil to win the Cup, despite their less than impressive performance against Croatia yesterday. I mean come on, with players like Ronaldinho, Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, and Kaka (hee hee), how can they not be favoured?

My dark horse prediction may startle some of you, given the tough group they drew, but I pick Australia as the underdog that could actually take the World Cup trophy home with them when it is all said and done. The quality of Mark Viduka and Tim Cahill is evident, but Australia's biggest weapon is their coach, that nasty Dutchman that I love to hate, Guus Hiddink. The guy is brilliant, and he somehow wrings performances out of teams under his iron fist that are well above and beyond what the team should be capable of; to wit: Korea in the 2002 World Cup.

I have spoken. There may yet be egg on my face, but if my predictions hold any water at all, at least they will be recorded here for me to brag about later! :)

Amateur Hour (and a Half)

In which I continue my ill-advised mouthing off about the 2006 World Cup, despite knowing next to nothing about The Beautiful Game.

After watching (South) Korea and Togo struggle through 90 minutes of football last night, I find myself a little less critical of Japan's performance against Australia. To put it mildly, both teams sucked. For the first 25 minutes of play, I don't think either side put together more than three passes in a row, and no-one could manage to hold onto the ball when challenged. I have not seen Togo before, so I did not know what to expect from them, but the Korean side was a far cry from the confident team that took the world by storm in 2002. True, they were in front of a home crowd then, but I think the real difference was Guus Hiddink's presence on the sidelines. I dislike the man (he seems arrogant to me, I dunno), but I think he is one of the greatest coaches in recent history.

The Koreans did not show exceptional pace, nor ball-handling skills, nor teamwork. And they took more dives than Jacques Cousteau. I hate few things in football more than a dive, and even more frustrating was the fact that the official left his yellow card in his pocket, even when he saw a dive and failed to award a foul to Korea. And one of the times he did produce the yellow card was to show it to Jean-Paul Abalo in the 53rd minute to punish Togo's captain for a "tackle" which the replay showed pretty clearly to have made no contact with the Korean player. Not that you would know that from the way the Korean theatrically launched himself pitchward, rolling around and clutching his ankle in "pain". This was Abalo's second yellow card, which to you non-football-savvy readers means that a red card was immediately shown, and Abalo was ejected from the match in the 53rd minute, leaving Togo with 10 men to face Korea's full complement of 11. If that is not adding insult to injury, I don't know what is.

Despite the sloppy demonstration, Togo did manage to feed a good long ball to forward Mohamed Kader, who outran his marker and then beat the keeper from 16 metres with a well-placed shot. This took place in the 31st minute, giving Togo a 1-0 lead that they managed to hang onto for the rest of the first half and nearly 10 minutes of the second, before conceding a free kick just outside their goal area in the 54th minute. Chun Soo Lee took the spot kick and curved the ball neatly up over the wall and just past the lunging keeper and into the back of the net to equalise. The spot kick was well-taken, but I am pretty sure that a real goalkeeper could have kept it out. At least the foul was legitimate, and not another lovely display of thesbian skill by the Koreans.

The goal that put Korea ahead, however, was an excellent shot, from none other that 2002 Korea-Japan hero Jung Hwan Ahn. It came in the 72nd minute, from a couple of metres outside of the area, and was struck with pace and precision, leaving Togo's keeper with little option other than to watch it into the goal.

Korea deserved the win, but the aggregate level of skill on display was on par with a kickabout in the park, not a World Cup match. Too bad Japan did not find themselves in Group G, where they would have steamrolled the bush-league competition offered by these two teams.

Speaking of which, in my previous entry, I hope I did not come across as dismissive of Australia's performance. Australia played extremely well, and certainly deserved the win. I was just frustrated that Japan, which actually played reasonably well for at least 80 minutes of the match, could not generate any real offence, despite having enough raw talent on their team to make a real impact in the tournament.

The World Cup is Over

For Japan, anyway. And maybe the US as well.

Sometimes I don't know why I bother being a sports fan. It seems like all I get for my fervent support of my favoured teams is a broken heart, again and again. Last night was a case in point, as I saw Japan get all but eliminated from the World Cup by Australia, and then found that the US had been thoroughly out-classed by the Czech Republic.

I can't talk about the US match, since I did not get to see it (it aired at 01:00, a full hour after the Japan match ended, and I just could not stay awake that long), but I can give you my thoughts on Japan's miserable performance.

Let me start by saying that there was a whole lot of optimism here in Japan yesterday. And why not? Japan has a talented, young side, and they are not missing any key players due to injury. But I was slightly more skeptical than most fans, because I had yet to see Japan demonstrate that their biggest problem had been solved: the lack of any real coherence, especially in the attacking half. And that was what sunk Japan last night.

Australia came out of the gate looking strong, and put together attack after attack, with some skillful passing and great ball control. The first 15 minutes looked very bad indeed for Japan, as the Aussies had most of the ball and looked the more dangerous side. Japan, on the other hand, put together little mini-attacks where one player would dash towards the opponent's goal with the ball, do a bit of decent dribbling, and then pass off to someone else. The problem was that a third player never seemed to be in good position to receive a pass for a real threat on goal.

Japan's defence tightened up a bit, and Australia looked like they were slowing down a bit, so I could relax a bit when they touched the ball, now that the fear that they would score every time they got possession was alleviated somewhat.

In the 26th minute, Shunsuke Nakamura got a fluke goal when he crossed the ball into the area, and the Australian keeper got tangled up with four other players in the goal mouth (two Japanese, two Aussie) and knocked down, allowing Nakamura's cross to float into the back of the net. Sure, in the World Cup, a goal is a goal, and I was mighty happy to get this one, but at the same time, it was not proof positive that the Japanese could score quality goals against strong opposition. And neither was the rest of the first half. While Australia looked practically tame for the remainder of the half, Japan couldn't add a second goal. Same story: decent individual play from the strikers and midfielders in Australia's half, but no solid teamwork of the sort that is required to score goals at the highest level of competitive football.

The second half showed Australia re-committed to the task of scoring goals, and Kawaguchi, the Japanese goalkeeper, was tested time and time again. And was he ever equal to the task! He is credited with six saves in the official statistics, but it seemed like more than that watching the match. Twice, it seemed like Australia was certain to score, but Kawaguchi stretched himself full-length and somehow got a hand to the ball to push it wide of the goal. That should have been great news for Japan; usually when the keeper makes a great save, it energises the team. But Japan still could not put anything together in the attacking half. Other than one screaming shot by Takahara which the Australian goalkeeper was equal to, Japan did not generate any convincing threats on goal.

And that was the writing on the wall, because when one team is threatening constantly, and the other is not, it is just a matter of time before the more dangerous side gets a goal. And when Tim Cahill, Australia's most potent striker, entered the game as a substitute in the 69th minute, the time was nigh. It took Cahill about ten minutes to really warm up, but his presence put even more stress on the overworked Japanese defence, which had barely held against Mark Viduka's excellent play at the front throughout the match. Australia's first goal came in the 84th minute, when Kawaguchi made his second full-length stretching save and a Japanese defender cleared the ball out over the sideline. Australia made a long throw just to the left of the goal, and maybe two metres into the area. This was when Kawaguchi made his one mistake of the match, charging out to intercept the throw, but not getting enough of a fist on the ball to clear it from the area. The ball squirted sideways, and looked for a split second to be shielded by a fallen Japanese defender, before Cahill stepped around him and calmly put the ball in the back of the net.

And if only that were the end of the scoring! I was pissed off enough at being robbed of three points, and having to settle for one point from the draw, but my mood became blacker and blacker in the next five minutes, as Japan continued to disappoint on the attack while Australia seemed to get stronger and stronger. At some point during those five minutes, I realised that Australia was almost certainly going to get another goal. I just hoped that Kawaguchi could find some way to keep denying the go-ahead score. And maybe he could have, if his defenders hadn't completely forgotten how to play.

In the 89th minute, Cahill was left unmarked at the top of the goal area, and he made no mistake from 20 metres to seal the deal for Australia. I pretty much knew that the game was over then, as Japan was incapable of scoring, so John Aloisi's goal in the second minute of stoppage time was just adding insult to injury. And it was a pretty insulting goal, so badly did he beat a Japanese defender at the top of the area before slotting it home confidently from 10 metres or so. Luckily for Japan, that was all the scoring Australia had time for, with the final whistle putting a merciful end to the bloodbath.

Cahill was named Man of the Match, and rightly so. I had to tip my hat to Guus Hiddink, Australia's coach, for deciding to rest Cahill for most of the match, then substitute him in late in the match. Had it not been for his fresh legs, Japan may have been able to hold on for the win, in which case Kawaguchi would have certainly deserved the Man of the Match honours.

The reason that this loss pretty much spells the end of Japan's World Cup campaign is the makeup of the rest of their group: Brazil and Croatia. For Japan to even have a chance of going through to the next round, they will need to beat one of the two and at least draw with the other. Which is not going to happen, because you are not going to hold Brazil to less than two goals, I don't think, and Japan is certainly not going to generate more than one goal a game. At least, not unless they take their defeat at the hands of Australia as a wake-up call and really gel as a team up front, which is very unlikely at this late hour.

I think some of the fault has to lie with Zico, the Brazilian who is coaching Japan, for not building a real attack. Then again, maybe the fault lies more with the people responsible for hiring Zico, as Brazilians are sort of known for great individual skill at the front yielding goals, instead of a dynamic team effort. And sorry to say it, but Japan does not have a Pele, or a Ronaldo, or a Ronaldinho, who can just create goals out of thin air.

As for the US, well, like I said, I did not see the match, so I have no real thoughts on what the US team needs to do to avoid being spectators in the next round, but I will say that they have their work cut out for them. They absolutely must beat Ghana, and then they need some sort of result against Italy, preferably a win.

Ugh. I should just move to Brazil or something, and learn to love the New York Yankees of football. At least I would not be disappointed every World Cup when my teams let me down. At least the US and Japan qualified, unlike Bulgaria and Ireland, my two other favourite teams.

Reading is FUNdamental

Of late, I have been oft availing myself of the privileges granted me by my Yokohama City Library card, to wit: borrowing of books.

The Central Library's English fiction collection takes up a whole two shelves, and much of the books on these shelves are what Lyani called "airport books". "You know," she said, "there is 'elevator music' and there are 'airport books': the sort of crap novels that you buy only out of sheer desparation in the airport." Surprisingly to me, over half of the books seem to also be by Canadian authors. Not that I have anything against Canadian authors, I just do not know many of them.

In any case, allow me to share with you three books that really impressed me, in ascending order of excellence:

"Shoeless Joe", by W.P. Kinsella. If you like baseball, you will love this book. The movie "Field of Dreams" is based on it, but the book is better by far (and I actually like the movie quite a bit--say what you will about Kevin Costner, he is pretty decent in baseball movies). There is something magical about baseball, and Kinsella weaves this magic effortlessly into a story that is somehow greater than the sum of its parts: namely Iowa, love, corn farming, the infamous Chicago "Black Sox", and reclusive American author J.D. Salinger. Oh yeah, and if you have never heard of Tinkers to Evers to Chance, this book will rectify that sad state of affairs.

Speaking of baseball, I am watching an interleague game between the Chunichi Dragons and the Tohoku Rakuten Golden Eagles. It is 5-1 Chunichi going into the top of the fifth, after a fiesty two-out rally in the bottom of the forth by Rakuten. Jose Fernandez stroked a solo homer, then the next batter executed a perfect bunt down the third baseline and ran it out for a single. This was followed by a two-out seeing-eye single to put men on the corners, setting the stage for the catcher. Tragically, he hits like a catcher, and managed to got down swinging on four pitches. Well, that's baseball, as they say.

Getting back to the printed word, be sure to read Gil Courtemanche's "A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali" (speaking of Canadian authors). I am pretty sure that it was an inspiration for "Hotel Rwanda", though it tells the story from a different perspective than the movie. It is a strangely uplifting tale, given its setting (AIDS-ravaged Rwanda) and plot (genocide most foul). Which is not to say that it is not incredibly sad--it certainly is--but it shows how the human spirit can somehow survive even in the worst conditions. In case you were wondering, this book is a fictionalised account of a real historical tragedy. Just be warned that this book is not for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach: the subject matter is quite explicit, and the author presents it realistically.

And finally, my favourite out of all the books I have recently read, Audrey Niffenegger's "The Time Traveler's Wife". I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It is the story of a man who is "chronologically challenged"--he literally cannot remain in the present when he experiences strong emotions--and the woman who loves him. The premise seems rather unbelievable, and perhaps lifted from Vonnegut's caustic "Slaughterhouse-Five", but it turns out to be neither, and extremely imaginative to boot. If someone were to ask me to explain what "literary fiction" is, I would refer them directly to this novel. It is not a quasi-story wrapped in pretentious prose; it is a wonderful story told by a master of the English language, each perfectly-chosen word building towards a flawless sentence. It is a joy to read as much for the language as for the story itself, and that is saying a lot, for the bittersweet tale of love in the face of great difficulty alone makes the book almost impossible to close, even for the five minutes it takes to walk from the Keihin Tohoku Line platform to the Keiyo Line platform.

Premature Nostalgia

The weather forecast says, "16...22 C, partly cloudy", but that is really no way to describe a day like today. Today is a glorious spring day, the sort of day every Sunday should turn out to be.

Lyani and I went out for breakfast, to a pancake restaurant that was rumoured to exist somewhere in the vicinity of Motomachi. We tried unsuccessfully last weekend to find it, but operating on the instructions we were given ("between Kannai and Ishikawa-cho stations, near Isezaki") proved futile. This morning, however, just as we were giving up hope of finding the place, it came into view contemporaneously with the sole landmark contained in our new directions. Angels sang a heavenly chorus, etc.

We rolled in, had a huge American-style breakfast, and had to be rolled out of the restaurant afterwards. Then it was time for a jaunt around the corner to drop Lyani off at one of the myriad entrances to Motomachi-Chukagai Station (on the Minato Mirai Line). She had to go into Tokyo to help a friend pick out a wedding dress.

I, on the other hand, had no plans whatsoever, so I decided to stroll down Motomachi on my way home. I stopped in the Starbucks at the top of Motomachi to procure a cup of honjitsu no kouhii (short size), and then made my way leisurely down the crowded shopping street, smiling at the antics of children and pets as they frolicked in the sunlight.

I'm sure going to miss living here. Moving from downtown Yokohama to the outer suburbs of Tokyo is going to be quite a change.

Moving on... up?

Well, at least we are headed for the East Side, anyway. Of Tokyo, that is.

If you have read any of the sporadic effusions of foppery most vile that pass for entries in this here blog, you will know that I have a certain propensity for bitching and moaning about my commute. Poor me, etc. So it will come as no surprise that I live a life of intense longing for that elusive apartment closer to my work.

Luckily for my sanity, the aforementioned apartment was really not as elusive as I had feared. Lyani and I went up to Shinjuku a month or so back, had a nice chat with a man about a dog (and by this I mean, a real-estate agent about an apartment), and decided on a place that very same day. It is a tiny little shoebox of an apartment, but the location is terrific: a ten minute walk from Maihama Station on the Keiyo Line. Maihama Station is important for two reasons, namely that it happens to be right next to Tokyo Disneyland, and that it is two stops from Ichikawa Shiohama Station, which is noted only for its proximity to the Amazon Japan FC, which contains, amongst other exiting things, my very own cubicle.

Next weekend is the big date for the move, so you may reasonably assume that after that, I will never complain again about anything, and will go through my life as the most positive person ever to draw breath, letting the aggregate idiocy of humanity roll off my back like so many water droplets (off a duck's back, natch). All right, enough snickering from the peanut gallery! I am sure I'll find something to complain about, just not the commute, or the attendant issues such as the behaviour of my fellow commuters in Tokyo Station.

Moving on to issues of more meteorological import, the weather has finally become nice: sun, temperatures in the low 20s. Which means we have like a week of spring to look forward to before the rainy season begins. After three weeks of solid rain, we will be unceremoniously dumped, kicking and screaming, into the Japanese summer, which is something like living in a pressure cooker for several months. But for now, the spring weather is pleasant, and has allowed me to take advantage of the dress code at work. Or rather, the lack of a dress code at work. Heh heh, Japan is not ready for the gleam of the sun striking my magnificently white legs, bare from the knee down, thanks to my shorts. Yeah, that's right, my fellow office workers! I'm chilling at my desk in shorts and a tee shirt, which you are all sweating in your suits or looking like tools in your Dockers.

And I'm out.

Hot Melons

"Peter, I'm holding melons!"

I was taking the trash out last night, when I ran into one of our neighbours, another gaijin from Lyani's school. He mentioned that he had just bought a delicious melon, and I asked him where he had gotten it. And then the conversation got a little odd. Allow me to reproduce it:

Me: "Yeah? So where did you buy the melon?"
Him: "Haven't you ever seen those guys selling melons out of the back of a truck near the station?"
Me: "No, not really."
Him: "Well, anyway, there are some guys who sell melons out of the back of a truck near the station."
Me: "So you bought a melon from such a truck?"
Him: "Yeah, and it was pretty tasty, too."
Me: "Huh. Maybe I'll have to keep my eye open for melon peddlars hereabouts."

And I figured that would be the end of the conversation, but he continued:

Him: "So I asked this guy if he was a farmer or something, trying to cut out the middleman."
Me: "Oh, like a farmer's market sort of thing?"
Him: "Yeah. But it turned out that the melons were illegal."
Me: "Oh, do they have strict food safety laws or something, and this guy was avoiding them?"
Him: "Well, that's what I thought. So I asked him if he was a farmer..."
Me: "Yeah?"
Him: "And he looked at me, and said, 'No, I stole these in the middle of the night!'"
Me: "Holy shit! He actually told you that?"
Him: "Yeah! So those are hot melons!"
Me: "Heh."
Him: "And then he told me that it was dangerous, stealing melons, so I should not try it."
Me: "This was all in Japanese?"
Him: "Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh?"
Me: "Well, in this neighbourhood, nothing really surprises me anymore."
Him: "Like I would know how to go about stealing melons anyway!"

The truth is stranger than fiction, folks.

Harry Potter Does Japan

For the sixth time, no less. But Dave did it first.

"Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" goes on sale in Japan this Wednesday, May 17. Or at least the Japanese translation thereof, which in Japan is a much bigger deal than the release of the English version, for the obvious reason that the vast majority of the residents of Japan prefer to read in Japanese. Since I work for Japan's largest bookstore, you might imagine that the release of a massively popular title such as the latest "Harry Potter" installment would not escape my notice. And you would be right, so give yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

Fortunately for you, the interested reader of a blog that has not, to produce a monumental understatement, been updated much as of late, neither did the release of HP6 (as we in the Industry call it) escape the roving eye of those intrepid chaps known as the Japanese media. 'Course, that may have had something to do with the press junket implemented for them by my employer.

So, without further ado, I present to you a tale of wacky Japanesity, the Amazon Way.

Amazon being Amazon, we managed to work out a deal with the Japanese publisher of HP6 wherein we get to start shipping books before brick-and-mortar bookstores, to customers who had pre-ordered it. And since this deal went down in Japan, we got the president of the publisher, the Japanese woman who had translated HP6 into Japanese, to come to our Fulfillment Center out in Chiba, dress herself as a witch, and pack the first book order to be shipped. This is portrayed in the picture to the left, which is presumably the copyright of Mainichi Daily News, since it appears in an article of theirs. Clicky clicky upon the picky to be spirited away to the article in question.

Oh yeah, and in addition to the translator / publishing executive donning the blue robes of the Magi, we also had wizard hats for our employees (pictured at right, photo copyright of Yahoo! Japan News, original here). No, I did not have to wear one, since I do not work on the warehouse floor. Yes, I am sad that I missed out on the fun.

But I did not miss out entirely, for the day before the press event, as my partners in crime in the IT Department and I were heading out to lunch, we happened upon a little group activity that was about to start. All of the managers that work in the FC were assembled out front, and gloves and plastic bags were being handed around. More astute readers may have already put two and two together and correctly ascertained that some garbage pickup was a'brewin'. Being Japanese (well, I am not Japanese, but I am pretty much expected to behave like I am since I have been here for longer than three months), not joining in would have been completely out of the question, so we announced our burning desire to pick up refuse with our comrades in arms. At which time we were handed gloves and so on, and then the assembled mass of 25 or so people was split up into teams A, B, and C. Zones of influence were established, marching orders were given, and we set out at a brisk pace to do our duty for God and Country, or Queen and Country, or what have you.

An hour later, having picked up all the trash not only on the FC grounds, but also the sidewalks bordering said grounds, and the sidewalks across the street from said grounds, we moved our small mountain of garbage bags to the dumpsters. Except, of course, for five or so token bags that were carefully arranged in front of the FC. Some of you may wonder at this, but others of you who have actually had the honour of participating in a Japanese activity probably know what is coming.

Yes, all the trash-pickers gathered behind the carefully posed trash bags for a group photo.

Only in Japan, ladies and gents.

Lest you get the wrong idea about all of this, I actually enjoyed the whole thing. As one of my co-workers exclaimed as we were washing our hands thoroughly in preparation for another attempt at going to lunch, "garbage pickup can be fun, every once in a while".

I just thought you might enjoy a peek at the insanity that is life in Japan.

Consequences

In other news, I just finished watching the last episode of Season Five of "The Shield", and all I have to say is "oh my" (apologies to Joe and Lt. Sulu).

OK, that is not all I have to say, but you probably knew that, since you know me and my propensity to ramble.

"The Shield" is a cop drama, kinda. What it is really about is people, and how they usually get what's coming to them. If ever there was a cautionary tale against corruption, this is it.

I have compared "The Shield" to "The Wire" before, and my final analysis bears repeating: "The Wire" offers a way forward against corruption and evil and misery, while the "The Shield" just shows the consequences. That makes "The Wire" the more worthwhile show in my opinion.

Which is not to say that you should not also watch "The Shield". If you like good acting and good storytelling, and you can handle an explicit look at the damage that dirty cops do to everyone around them, "The Shield" is for you.

I think it is great television, and I hope that rumours that the next season will be the last are correct. "What!?" you may be asking, "You want a show that you have enjoyed to end?"

(Aside: yet another tiny earthquake is currently happening. And don't worry, I am not sitting under anything heavy that can fall on me.)

Indeed. Fictional television shows exist for the same reason as other sorts of fiction: to tell a story. Or tell stories, whatever.

One of the reviews of "The Wire" on IMDb calls it the closest thing to a novel one will find on the silver screen (that is television, right? not the movies?), and I think that is a wonderful bit of insight. "The Wire", in all three seasons thus far, has told a single story. So has "The Shield", with a few more twists and turns. Both shows are successful for their dedication to the story, and they both succeed in holding onto that in the face of the pressure of delivering it in episodic chunks.

The thing is, "The Shield" can only have a sad ending, and the action is certainly coming to a close. The story has almost been told, and I am looking forward to the end. I wish shows would be pitched as a three-season story, or a five-season one, whatever. Without knowing the end of your story, you end up writing yourself into a corner, based on the actions of your characters. This is actually one sign of good writing, since the characters are natural and fleshed out enough to act on their own. The problem occurs when a convenient "happy ending" is forced on the story, leaving the viewer shaking her head in disbelief. Many shows have gone this route.

The trick is to get out before you jump the shark. And the way to do that, in my humble, not-writing-for-television opinion opinion, is to write the story completely before you pitch the show. That does not prevent you from making changes as you go, if those changes improve the story. But you have to know where it is going.

Buffer Underrun

After promising to slice up my backlog into bite-sized bits so as to avoid the oh-so-Josh-Glover long run-on entry, I have delivered. Absolutely nothing, that is, which is another Josh Glover classic.

I guess one of the joys of the blog is that you get to write on your clock; no pressure, no deadlines. And in the beginning, that is liberating and fun. You just slap down some narration about whatever is going on in your life and the world around you. But after awhile, maybe you start to feel like you have gotten your point of view out there, told your stories, and now it is hard to find things to write about. So it starts becoming more like work; you have to write about this, that, and the other, and it has to be up by tomorrow. After all, you have a responsibility to the people that read your blog, right?

Oops, now you are back to deadlines and responsibility.

I am a creative person, and have been able to write some pretty good stuff from time to time. But I'll be the first to tell you, writing is hard work. It is worth it when the muse hits, when your pen or keyboard can barely keep up with the fountain of prose rising from your mind, each drop sparkling majestically in the sunlight before falling perfectly on the page. It is worth it when you have written and re-written, and finally have a piece you are proud of.

But that is by and large not what blogging is about. Blogging is about sharing your work in a rawer state. And it is less rewarding to the reader, since sentences are not polished, the train of thought is not necessarily advanced.

But what blogging lets you do, in theory, is experience most of the joy of writing without the hard work. Professional writers will be the first to tell you that waiting for the muse to strike is not a way forward. You have heard the saying that everyone has one novel in them? Well, in less that one novel is "The Da Vince Code", which has sold just under a bajillion copies, one novel does not a living make. Just ask Stephen King, one of the most commercially successful writers out there. Writing is hard work, and the way to attract the muse to to keep at it. I will be the first to admit that the muse is more likely to strike in the midst of composition than out there in the wide world. It is also said that writers are always writing, and there is some truth in that as well. If you are a creative person and a storyteller, ideas for stories can explode into your brain suddenly, with just a glimpse of something or someone. But that is just the beginning, and it is not writing. Inspiration happens more often than the muse comes to call.

I think that is not just true of writing, but of most things in life. The lucky, the successful, are quite often the ones who are just willing to work harder than the rest of us. Sure, Einstein and Newton and Edison were all geniuses. But they were also men on a mission. Edison famously said that "genius is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration", and it is widely known that it took Edison many failed tries before achieving a success. But that should be inspiring to all of us! The message is that perserverance, mated with an inquisitive and agile mind, yeilds results.

And I have seen that in my life. I have been able to accomplish some pretty worthwhile things when I kept at it, and did not settle for sloppy solutions that just worked.

Same deal with writing. I can occasionally turn out a first draft that works with minimal effort, just riding some inspiration. But to turn that into something that I can be proud of, that requires some real dedication, and the willingness to fail 99 times before I get it right.

Unfortunately for my love of writing, I love programming even more, and that is where any creative talent that I have must be spent. So my blog is a way of getting what I like out of writing without having to put in the effort required to get what I love out of writing. And it can be fun to read, both for my family and friends, and for myself. And maybe sometimes for Netizens that don't know me at all, when I have a wacky Japan story to tell.

I guess the point of this entry is to admit that I don't have the motivation it takes to deliver stellar writing. And I do not enjoy blogging when I place pressure on myself to do it. So I have to accept that I will write when I have something to say, and I won't worry about it when I don't. Sounds fair to me.

So no more promises of entries to come that I cannot keep without sacrificing quality or my free time. Blogging is supposed to be a release, not just another way to make yourself feel guilty about your laziness.

The Backlog Begins

I have not written much as of late, and what I have written felt a bit forced to me. The downside of this is that my darling readers (may I call you darling?) have not had much to read. The upside is that my mind has not been entirely idle during the period that my blog has been, and I have somewhat of a backlog.

Rather than spew forth all of my thoughts, in true Josh Glover style, in one massive blentry, I have decided to split them up for easier digestion. So read on, if you dare.

War, What is it Good For?

Absolutely nothing! (Good God, y'all.)

Thanks to Ryan for sending me a link to Seymour M. Hersh's excellent piece on the current situation with Iran vis-a-vis enrichment of uranium.

I really think it is vital that the US gives the diplomats time, and is willing to sit down with Iran and discuss this issue. We certainly don't need another war in the Middle East.

A Name for a Girl

Lyani and I went out to supper with some friends last Friday night, to Denny's, of all places (no, Denny's in Japan has nothing in common with the US Denny's other than the name and the fact that it is open 24 hours a day). The reason that we chose Denny's is because they have parking, and our friends have a car. Which is pretty amazing to me, since most people who live in the Tokyo area do not have a car, and me being one of the car-less, I never consider things like parking anymore. Which is a good thing, since I remember how much finding parking in a city sucks.

But anyway.

These friends are a co-worker of mine and his wife (I have decided that I am not going to use the names of my friends in the blog unless they specifically say it is OK, just to protect everyone's privacy and so on). Which is important to the story for two reasons, the first of which I shall now reveal: since Lyani and I live in Yokohama, and these friends live out in Chiba, close to work, we decided to eat in Shinbashi, which is roughly halfway between our respective abodes. So my co-worker and I drove (and by this I mean, he drove his car and I sat in the passenger seat, admiring the scenery) from work to Shinbashi Station, where we met our wives.

So we found a Denny's, using my co-worker's fancy GPS navigation system (I want one so badly! And yes, I know that they have GPS software on mobile phones these days, but that would require me to purchase a new phone, and I cannot bring myself to do that), ordered some tasty food, and started chatting.

So the second reason that it is important to know that these friends are married to each other is that she is pregnant with their first child. So they have been thinking of baby names--both girl and boy names, since they do not know which it will be yet. So, as it turns out, have Lyani and I. Not because she is pregnant or planning to be anytime soon, but because that is the sort of thing that married people who do want to have children some day tend to discuss occasionally.

So Lyani and I mentioned that we have a good name for a girl, but have not decided on one for a boy yet. And our friends were in the same boat; they had a name they really liked for a girl, but had not hit on a great boy's name yet.

So the four of us are all excited (because having kids is a pretty exciting thing for young couples), and Lyani shares our name with them. At which point jaws drop and incredulous expressions are assumed on the other side of the table.

"No way!" exclaims my co-worker, "I must have told you that, right? And you are just joking?"

"No, why?" I reply.

And of course they had picked the same girl's name. Which is pretty incredible, since the four of us are all from completely different cultural backgrounds and native languages (America, Bulgaria, Japan, Argentina; English, Bulgarian, Japanese, Spanish). And this name is not wildly popular, either. It is not like we all settled on Maria, or something.

"So what is the name?" you might ask. To which I might reply, "Fat chance! You will not steal our perfect name for yourself!"

So now we have a dilemna. Luckily, our friends favour a slightly different spelling of the name, so it might be OK for both of us to use it. Or they might have a boy, in which case my co-worker and I will not have to resolve this dispute by fighting to the death, which is quite fortunate for me, since I would not be winning that fight, and then Lyani would have to mourn me for an acceptable period before finding someone else to father her children, which I would not like at all, no sir, even though I would be dead. I would have to re-enact the movie "Ghost", which might prove difficult, since I have never seen it. But I am pretty sure it involves a scenario not unlike the one which I have gone to great lengths to describe. Namely me being killed but still not liking the idea of my wife moving on.

Can you keep a secret?

Tips for Commuters

1. If you are carrying a Louis Vuitton bag, like every other woman in Japan, I will not be removing my tired ass from my seat so that you can sit down. Sorry. This is one man's stand against rampant lemming-like behaviour. Listen: Louis Vuitton bags are ugly, and they are expensive. This does not make them très trendé, this makes them très stupide. D'accord?

2. In a similar vein, if you are a high school baseball player, and you have a Louis Vuitton wallet... for shite's sake! What are you thinking? Not only are you an idiot for blindly following a crappy fashion trend, but you are a man, remember! Men are not supposed to give a damn about this sort of thing!

I have a Calvin Klein wallet, but you want to know why? Because it is high quality, and it looks nice. And I got it for $12 on sale. So paying for nice stuff is not a crime in my book, but paying for stuff that looks crappy just because it is a famous brand is pretty stupid.

3. I realise that the train can throw you around a bit from time to time, but if you step on my foot, you'd bloody well better apologise. I know it was an accident, but that does not change the fact that my foot is broken. Ass.

And on this angry note, I'm out. See you tomorrow for the promised "A Name for a Girl" entry, which should be less ranting and more interesting storytelling. Or whatev'...

Train Safety

Yesterday, I was standing on the Tokaido Line train, riding into work. To while the time away, I was using my nifty new Signeo SN-M700 media player (or iPod, as the kids are calling them these days) to listen to one of the early episodes of Alpha Rant, a podcast done by the authors of Alpha Shade, a webcomic that I regularly read (and I think I have mentioned here before). The podcast is done by two brothers, who are funny guys to start with, but what makes it really worth listening to is their witty back-and-forth; they have been talking to each other for all their lives (20-odd years, given that one of them is in his early 30s and the other in his late 20s).

So anyway, in the middle of the episode I was listening to, one of the brothers gets a phone call. The other one, instead of pausing the recording, decides to do a faux-dramatic, documentary-style commentary on the one side of the phone call that we can hear in the background. And what we can hear is the guy on the phone getting increasingly irritated. So when he comes back to the mic, he explains that it was one of his friends on the phone, telling him about some train wreck that just happened.

And why would his friend do that? Because the older brother (the one who got the phone call) is a locomotive engineer. As in he drives trains for a living. So he goes into this long spiel on how people are always doing stupid things like stopping on the train tracks, or driving up the tracks in a snow storm, or what have you. He advances the theory that you have to try really hard to get hit by a train, because they--wait for it--run on tracks, and thus go in a straight line. And oh yeah, you can see exactly where they will be going, because you can see the tracks. And so on.

And then he mentions that he actually had to pull an emergency stop just the other day (well, it would have been just the other day as of September, 2003, since it was an old episode of the podcast I was listening to) because of some idiot who stopped his car on the tracks because traffic was backed up. So here is Chris (the older brother is named Chris, and I reveal this because it is getting unwieldy to write about two guys without using their names), cruising into town at 50-plus miles per hour in a 15,000 ton train, and he sees some moron stopped on the tracks about a mile ahead of him. So he slams the controls to full stop, and any physics major can compute how long it took him to stop. Let's just say that a mile was insufficient. Luckily, the emergency stop gave the aforementioned cretin time to figure out a way to get the hell off the tracks, and no-one died.

Chris winds down his rant, and about a minute later I find myself airborne. You know why they always told you to sit down on schoolbuses and the like? Well, it turns out that if the vehicle on which you are being conveyed needs to make a sudden stop, thanks to Newton's laws of motion, you want to continue along at the same velocity as the vehicle was going. And if you are not "attached" to the vehicle in some way, such as having a seat back in front of you against which to brace yourself, or a handhold to cling to as if your very life depended upon it, the result of this desire to remain in motion can result in you flying through the air.

And this is what had happened to me. Commuter trains are not necessarily known for a smooth ride (contrast this with the Shinkansen experience, which feels like the train is floating gently on a cushion of air above tracks made of the finest silk), so you tend to get thrown around a little from time to time if you have not managed to secure one of the 50 various hand-holds per car (which sounds a little irresponsible unless you know that the car is designed to transport 50 people in relative safety, but more than 100 people are crammed into it, so your choices can be limited). So in the first several milliseconds of my flight, I thought that it was just a standard jolt that had caught me off guard, until I realised that everyone else who was standing in my general vicinity was also in mid-air. When I finally caught my balance, I had been shifted about three metres toward the front of the train, and I became faintly aware, through my Sony noise-cancelling headphones, of a voice announcing in Japanese that the emergency brake had been applied.

"Oh great," I thought, "another suicide. I'm going to be quite late for work."

For trains, you see, are probably the most common way to commit suicide in Japan. I guess this is because it is pretty easy to do--you just step of the front of the platform into the path of a train, and the many tons (I am not sure how much commuter trains weigh under a full load; I am sure it is less than Chris's 15,000 ton train, which he said was loaded with rock at the time, but it still has to be 1000 tons or so, I would imagine) of fast-moving metal will take care of the rest.

Strangely, one of the reasons cited for the popularity of trains as a suicide method is that it is easier on the family of the victim. Not sure why this is true, since whenever a suicide happens, holding up many thousands of commuters for several hours, the company that owns the rail line gets sued for many many yen, and then turns around and sues the victim's family (hmm, is "victim" the right word to use when talking about suicide? anyway, by "victim", I mean the dude or dudette that shuffles off the mortal coil or whatever).

Oh yeah, and this is bizarre and slighly amusing, if in a twisted sort of way: some of the suicidal chaps have taken to wearing brightly coloured masks over their faces when they jump, so as to spare the engineers from having their nightmares haunted by the face of a soon-to-be-dead person, courtesy of the split-second glimpse they might catch before the train brings sweet release.

Sorry, I don't know what came over me there... ;)

Anyway, in this case, it must not have been a suicide that induced the train to stop, because it started up again in a matter of minutes, and I was not too late to catch my next train, and I got to work on time, and so on. So hurrah for that.

And remember, kids, buckle up for safety!