“Sonna no kankei nee”: Comedy or Youth Corruption? You Decide

I’m on the fence. I hate being on the fence, any fence. For one nobody likes fence posts in their ass unless they are one of those crazy online fetishists and, two, I enjoy standing firmly on one side of a choice without the brickabrack that come with uncertainty. On one side of that fence is a catch phrase that is driving me crazy and on the other side is a catch phrase that is continuously infecting me with great gushes of laughter. The perpetrators of the laughs and the insanity are my wee kiddies. Well, them under the influence of a popular Japanese comedian named Yoshio Kojima. Kojima, born in Okinawa, is known for two things that, to me, aren’t really all that funny on paper. He wears a tiny, tight bathing suit on stage and in most of his interviews which to me, I think, would be a distraction from his act. Nothing comedic about seeing some guys meaty Johnson enshrined and blatant in bright spandex. Not to say his Johnson is meaty. I haven’t looked. Well, I haven’t looked much. Alright I looked only a little. FINE, I gazed and gawked and paused and even licked the computer screen twice! I hope you’re satisfied. Outside of his bathing suit schtick is the main thing that has popularized him all over Japan, mainly with teenagers but the kids, at least judging from my students, eat this guy up like he were chocolate cake covered in Fruit Loops and topped with whipped cream and butterscotch. The phrase on its on doesn’t make you want to bust a gut or anything but. Go ahead and read: “Sonna no kankei nee”. Did you laugh? I didn’t think so. Try the English version on for size: “What does that matter?” Still not funny, huh? Alright but comedy is delivery, you say. It’s not so much about the words as how they are presented to the audience. I agree although Who’s On First, the classic of classics, is a pretty funny read, if you ask me. Before I go into the act I want to preface it by a bit of classroom antics.

It all started a few weeks ago. There was no trickling, it was an all out gush from day one. The students would come into class and almost daily one, two and in once instance all of them would break out into this strange dance. Ack! Is epilepsy infectious? Did all of these kids play the same Pokemon game before school and get all seizure due to the wrong combinations of colors on the screen? I readied myself to begin fishing out tongues from the backs of throats but still they danced on in unison chanting the same thing every one of them. “Sonna no kankei nee…sonna no kankei nee…” followed by a rousing cry of “OPOPPI!” Things don’t happen like this in real life, I thought. Things happen like this in cheesy musicals. (If only Michael Jackson’s Thriller video was a Japanese fad because I’d really like to see an entire class of six year olds doing that awesome zombie dance. Hee hee!) The first time that it happened I ignored it as a one off. Kids do silly things. I didn’t know what was being said and the other kids were laughing it up to the show so they obviously weren’t being insulted or verbally hurt. I let it go. Then it kept on coming. Class after class, student after student. “OPOPPI!” “OPOPPI!” Okay, now I’m curious. What is this, I think? What is this, I ask them? They don’t understand and if they do and they answer back I don’t understand. Through my supervisor, who now has this thing as his ringtone, I discovered that what is sweeping the youth of Japan like Pogs, Pet Rocks and NKOTB were the comedic stylings of one Mr. Kojima.

The act is a strange one but what do you expect from Japan and a pasty Asian man in a tight bathing suit? Outside of the Japanese posted above, I have no idea what this guy is saying so I can’t relay the English translation of the act but I can tell you the dance steps as demonstrated numourous times by my students:

Step One: We could have lots of fun…no…wait…drop to the ground as though you were about to do a push up.
Step Two: Turn yourself into a human jack and pump yourself up back to your feet by pushing upwards with your hands, pumping all the way, ass towards the heavens
Step Three: Go out to a Gay bar, find the flamiest of flamers and watch him dance. Return home and emulate.
Step Four: It’s just a jump to the left…and then a jump to the right.
Step Five: Now start punching the air downward. Do it again. Do it again. Awww, just keep doing it till your harm hurts. Don’t forget to stamp your foot in succession or you’ll just look silly.
Step Six: Shout “OPOPPI!” while sticking out one arm and one leg and then repeat the whole process as you are showered with laughter.

It’s the dance sensation that’s sweeping the nation. Twist on out of here The Twist. You’re mashing days are over Mashed Potato. The Robot is Rusted. The Achey Breaky broken. Forget the Charleston, the Madison and Watusi. Macarena your ass on out of here. In Japan, my friends, if you ain’t dancin’ the OPOPPI you ain’t dancin’!

I don’t know where the kids saw this guy. Seems like he’s been around for a little while but things only caught on with them in the past month. If I ever meet this guy I don’t know if I should thank him for the laughs or kick him in his underprotected nutsack for the annoyance. I don’t so much mind it when the kids do this wacky routine when I am setting up again, before or after a lesson or at appropriate transitional times before lesson marks. The whole thing is really very, very cute. The kids go nuts and gather around the performer and howl and hoot and the kids are adorable as they copy this nutball comic. However, the cuteness factor evaporates the moment this thing starts to cut in on my teaching time. That and the constant repetition of this one trick pony of a joke can become a little tedious even from the cutest of kid. Yet I have now become infected too. Kojima’s routine is an instant laugh getter but it is also an instant attention snagger. If I have a group of kiddies running about like crazed spider monkey I can just burst into the dance and usually one “Opoppi” is enough to get them back into the fold. Secretly, though, the dance is kind of fun. Don’t tell them that I like it, though. I fear I’d be doomed into having to work it into every lesson until I am driven to the nuthouse uttering lunatic cries of “Opoppi” as the Whitecoats drag me off to my own padded apartment in Bellevue.

Sigh. All this talk of the students and their cuteness gets me to thinking that I only have about two hours left with them. I’ve finally found a groove to ride and these last three months I’ve felt more connected to the kids. I guess what I am driving at is, well, damn it I am going to miss the little guys…even the ones I’d like to toss under a steamroller. This week I actually asked for MORE work so that I can be part of the special Christmas lessons when the students. Maybe I’m trying to combat the Christmas lonesomeness that is slowly gripping me as we near the 25th or maybe I’ve gone past the point of a simple flu and entered into flu on delirium. I think I’m just trying to milk as much time with these kids as I can before the goodbyes. The clock is ticking and as it ticks I start to wonder. What if…I think…what if…

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Some examples found online of kids doing the dance. Feel my pain and join in my snickers: