An Eternal Thought in the Mind of Godzilla: Kurikaeshite kudasai

An Eternal Thought in the Mind of Godzilla: Kurikaeshite kudasai

Kurikaeshite kudasai

Long ago, and oh so far away, two Japanese guys were sitting around watching skate videos.

As the wheeled warriors did their “totally awesome” tricks to an eXtreme musical accompaniment, one of the guys on the couch went over the top. He said in all seriousness, “wow, gaijin are so cool. They can do anything!”

But this didn’t exactly fly with the person sitting next to him. Decades having to wave back at grinning gaijin on television, in print ads, everywhere in Japan, had finally reached critical mass. Schwarzenegger for instant ramen. Richard Gere for “I Love Tokyo.”

It could not be allowed to go on forever. A counter culture had to be created. And thus, the concept “Dasai Gaijin” was born.

Originally, I thought the phrase simply meant “uncool foreigner.” But it’s much, much worse than that. Yoshiki corrects me, “it’s more like pathetic foreigner.”

At least sixty people are crammed into the Acid Panda Café in Ookayama tonight for Dasai Gajin Night Vol. 2, a sequel to a previous event a few months back.

Two-man techno band Leopaldon not only runs the Acid Panda, but they’re also dedicated to hunting down the most fucked up foreigners they can find. They scour the Internet for pics and post them on the Dasai Gaijin community on Mixi - the Japanese equivalent of Myspace - which currently numbers nearly two thousand members.

Now Leopaldon sit on stage, breaking down their massive collection of jpegs into categories.

The Monster – The thing that must not be. Fat, hideous, and savage. Eats giant hamburgers in clothes that are forever too small.

The Royals – Family portraits straight out of the Sears catalog. Everyone with the same funny/pathetic look on their best face. Brush strokes on the backgrounds behind them.

Gamers – Nerds, basically. Little kids and teens with nothing better to do but line up at networked computers happily trying to kill each other.

The Last Samurai – Pictures of wayward gaijin with their host families out in Bumfuck, Japan. Helps if they are wearing a stylish yukata and glasses combo.

The Creator – The proud owners of science fair projects, ugly clay sculptures, and homemade Star Trek props.

Cosplay – Yeah. You know how that one goes. Paint yourself blue and be a Smurf or dress up like a cardboard Transformer for confirmation.

And so on, and so on into oblivion. Every picture and category is greeted with hoots and shouts of “Dasai!!!”

Next comes a Power Point presentation, graphs and pie charts explain the aesthetics of Dasai Gajin.

At the first level is the unconsciousness, a lack of concern for one’s own self image. The next level is ugliness, plain and simple. Overlapping that is humor. Dasai gaijin have to be funny looking, otherwise, what’s the point? But there is another shadow aspect. It’s also not funny. You should feel bad about the whole situation somewhere deep in your cynical black heart. Add everything up, and you have the formidable Dasai Gaijin effect.

Next is a session of real time hunting for Dasai Gaijin. Google is the best place to find their pastures and grazing fields. The top searches that yield bountiful harvests are “Party” and “Crazy Dancing.”

Then they announce a special guest in the house. An actual, for real, real Dasai Gaijin.

Naturally, it’s my dumb ass.

“What would Americans think if they found out about this event?”

“Maybe it would start a war. Americans don’t want to be Dasai and don’t want other people laughing at them. Eventually, they would start hunting for Dasai Nihonjin.”

“What words do you search for when looking for Dasai Gaijin?”

“Let’s face it: most Dasai Gaijin are white people. So just type ‘white people’ into the search engine and let it rip. ‘Stoned’ is also good. So is
‘heavy metal fans.’”

We search and find a dating site for men with long hair. At least I’m not wearing a Tie-dye shirt.

Next, Leopaldon take some of most Dasai images they’ve found, and paste them where normally “cool” gaijin reside: ads for iPods, covers for Newsweek, sales campaigns for Tower Records. It’s pretty satisfying to see.

The rest of the evening is blur of beers, Baggy cocktails, and bitter laughter. I ask a pair of girls, why are you here? What is it about Dasai Gaijin that made you come all the way out to Ookayama?

“Dasai Gaijin are funny. They look so happy. They’re cute.”

We’ve gone from being cool to being the Muppets, it seems, but at least there’s still come affection to be had.

A revolving door of DJs opens up for Dasai Gaijin dancing. Yoshiki takes over the turntables and plays the Ghostbusters theme, Kenny Loggins, Andrew W.K. Around 4am, the set is almost exclusively culled from music that’s two decades old. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, Mr. Roboto.

Yoshiki sits at the bar mulling it over. “This started out as Dasai Gaijin night, but somehow it’s turned into ‘80s night.”

I can only figure it’s because that was when the power of the gaijin was at it’s mightiest in Japan. And time, the missing element until now, has aged their works once mighty into laughable bits of crappy ear candy.

Cool ages to fool.

5am. It’s all over, but the 30 or so survivors still have to pose for pictures. Everyone makes their best stupid grinning Dasai Gaijin faces, fingers spread out into Vs. They put me on a pedestal. Literally. At first, I refuse. But I’ve been proclaimed Mr. Dasai Gaijin just for showing up.

It takes two hours to get home. I feel like hammered shit the next day. Is it the toll for nothing but booze and cigs for the last 12 hours?

Anonymous and countless Dasai Gaijin out there on the Net don’t know what’s hit them either.

July 06, 2005