Atobe reporting in. Just back from solo practice in the Plourde recreation center. I have no equal, so the only way to better myself is to swing at the wall for hours on end. While it can get tiresome, thanks to my iPod (scroll down and click on it) I never completely succumb to boredom. Thanks to that convenient invention, I can listen to, "Broken", "No Wonder", and my other smash hits again and again (I, Atobe, invite you to buy my The Ultimate Hard Worker album here). Crusader, meanwhile, spent all day reading and watching anime in his room. If his SGA presidential aspirations ever come to anything--he has my complete support, of course--he will probably need to visit the Plourde on a fact-finding mission to affirm its continued existence.

[For fellow believers, I recommend you check out the work of Kuranosuke Shiraishi, the former captain of Shitenhouji. He's made quite a name for himself with his Christian chart-topping singles "Bible" and "Prayer". "Prayer" made #36 last year, I kid you not.]

Speaking of the anime-watching founder of this weblog, he'd tell you himself about his latest anime discoveries were he not so busy enjoying them, so I might as well save the otaku some time. Last week a friend, to atone for a lousy pick in the past (Cowboy Bebop), said he should try Scrapped Princess, which he knew was his type. As Leslie said to me in his normal grandiose fashion, with reference to protagonist Pacifica Casull, "When an anime opening has a girl with double-decker curls, that's all you need to know." I cannot verify that theorem, but the show certainly fits his aesthetic sense. Set in a Medieval world with an unusual blending of magic and technology from a mysterious pre-apocalyptic civilization, the adventures of Pacifica, the Scrapped Princess, and those who try to safeguard her from the Mauser Church (yes, the downside is, the "Church" is evil in this one) is sure to delight the light of heart. But the writing is truly disappointing. A primary schooler could master every one of the moral conundrums confounding Pacifica and her friends throughout the show. Most likely, the script is terrible because, unlike most animes, Scrapped Princess is based on a light novel (sample page here) rather than manga.

Here's the opening he liked so much, and the ending which, being him, he liked even more.

I, Atobe, am not, however, to be outdone by the less cultured. To assure that "the winner will (always) be Atobe," I recommended him a better anime which often goes by Okusama wa Joshikosei, its Japanese title. See the opening here, and a better version without subtitles here. Of course, you can already tell how fantastic it is, and so could Crusader, but I should finish my thought. In this touching romantic comedy, Asami Onohara, 17 (almost all animes are about high schoolers), has a secret: she is married, to Kyosuke Ichimaru, 25, her Physics teacher. Constantly trying to spend time together, their efforts to keep others from knowing about the marriage often prevent them from spending time together. While there are, well, oodles of risque moments, the protagonists of Okusama wa Joshikosei are impressively moral next to their teen sitcom cousins. As I have already told you, they are married, and even though it would be moral for them, they refrain from relations per the request of Asami's angry-but-loving father. Sadly, My Wife is a High School Girl is not too popular in America, judging from the short Wikipedia article and the low number of ratings on the Anime News Network. Oh, did I just say its anglicized name? I'll bet you wouldn't have read this far if I had said it earlier, would you?

Be awed at the sight of my prowess!

Good to address you again, my readers. Little has transpired lately. Assumption Tennis doesn't get going again until March 20 (see here), though we have been training since January, as I, Atobe, made note of on my Facebook. (Unfortunately, our Athlete was back in Japan when the team portrait was taken, and is not on the roster.) But given our hard work of late, it will be worth the wait. Leslie has even promised to come see the game, since he's only seen tennis on The Prince of Tennis so far, and, despite my assurances, he doubts it could really be so interesting. In return, I promised to attend the poetry reading in the d'Alzon library tomorrow evening.

Moreover, the season of Lent, a time of repentance and inner reform, has begun. I, Atobe, have resolved to attend daily Mass more often, though it's always hard to fit that into a tight course schedule. Other than that, sadly, there is little I, Atobe, can do to take up our Lord's cross. Though I didn't celebrate St. Valentine's Day, in Japan all the women give chocolates to the guys on February 14. Usually guys are out of the frying pan until March 14--White Day--but as a Christian gentleman, it meant I simply couldn't give up sweets like Leslie has, for fear of having the ladies think they've been rejected when I take a pass on the Whitman's samplers. And as my underblogger will tell you, the stations of the cross in the AC chapel are best left unmentioned. I will be more ascetical, to be sure, but how to partake in Lent? I do have a nifty violet three-piece suit, but it's a bit too festive, so I wore it when a few of my Hyotei friends visited for Fat Tuesday.
















Be awed at the sight of my prowess!

Our first selection for this evening is a poetic, platonic, and politic rehash of Dido's "This Land is Mine" from Life for Rent. Ladies and gentlemen, "This Land is Mine" is certainly not about political philosophy, but it certainly should be. It always sounds like an accord offered by besieged to besieger (which it is, but in the romantic sense), and above all an accord with feminist overtones. That will never do, so here's my response.

Sonnet CXXXVI

Bring Sophie, wisdom, here within these walls,
Entice her with a song of sweetest word,
The woman finest, sweetest I have heard.
Drape gate and merlin violet soft with palls,
That she believe the lordship hers, as Queen,
A Queen to rule, to navigate, demand
The folk obey the words of her command.
A pious city wears a great-souled mien.
Our Sophie, wisdom, housed within the gate,
Does nurse the ruler born, that he may rule,
And pushes off the navigator, who'll
Ensure demanders calm when they must wait.
May Sophie, wisdom, reigning as divine,
Know well herself, to know this land is mine.

Love that Dido! I know, it sounds more like something Atobe would write. This time, it's a question of bringing feminine wisdom, that eternal good, into a platonic republic. Much fuss is made nowadays about feminine wisdom and its place in the political order. But in Plato's Republic (2/3rds done reading), the philosophical/ruling and spirited classes governing the city are fundamentally masculine, the proposed equality of women notwithstanding. I posit that the role of the feminine in a just political order, like their role in the family, is to keep the masculine in order and moderate.

Next is a mystical poem, wording transcendence. As readers will know, our Pundit goes to malls to shop for inspiration as often as to shop for manga or a CD. And that was how it was last evening. The scene, in the outer lot, was Caspar David Friedrich's Wanderer above the Sea of Fog made flesh.

























Sonnet CXXXVII

Mid autos, something Fate left there that night,
A wooden signal staff I could not pass,
Sides squared, spike nailed below the yellowed grass,
A touch orange spraypaint near the top. My right
Palm held it. From the island, separate shores
Appeared. Staff at my back I saw, though wan
And dark for all her lamps, a mall, the Swan
Of Solomon atop her lintel. Stores,
Ceramicky and plain, meek, huddled squares,
A fleet of moving vans writ large. Staff side,
A forest, clear and numb. Unreified,
The poles were less despondent sands than piers
I soon was sailing from. New Balance shod,
I left the staff, made middle course to God.

[Me and the boys intently watching Super Bowl XLIV]

We Japanese, as the cultured reader knows, adore all things American and faithfully root for big brother USA whenever the rest of the world abandons her. But when I, Atobe, watched Super Bowl XLIV last night, I didn't quite know what to do. Two American teams~ which to root for? Though my sports expertise is hardly limited to my tennis skills, as the saying goes, I had no horse in the race, so I watched the best sporting event the world has to offer--other than a Hyotei-at-Seigaku match--with the distance and dispassion befitting a man as excellent as myself. Leslie, for his part, (somehow) dislikes sports, and took pride in skipping the Super Bowl this year.

But other than passing the pigskin to and fro, there are always the commercials. This year, of course, I was particularly heartened by the Focus on the Family ad featuring football's Tim Tebow. Yes, it never actually mentioned "abortion," but it was nice to see CBS of all networks air the controversial commercial despite pro-choice protests. (In fact, they almost did pull the spot, but when my family threatened to dump its CBS Corporation holdings, they promptly fell back into line.) There were, as a matter of course, many inferior ads. The worst, by far, was the half-infomercial for Dr. Thomas Hobbes' Leviatan. Fortunately, the spot was only playing in the greater Assumption College area (hence the quality), but oh! the foul memories it dredged up!

Always the bookish sort, it came as no surprise to me that Dr. Hobbes' latest panacea is also a fraud. Dr. Hobbes, after all, has been besetting ills upon bodies politic since the mid-17th Century, so I expected no better when Leviatan hit the AC Political Science department and quickly became a sensation a week or two ago. All my friends, however, reported astounding results, and so to prove them wrong the sooner I picked up a prescription after consulting my physician. The regimen completed, I can report that I, Atobe...didn't chance a bit. When it came time for homework, I Tom Sawyered my underlings into completing assignments not worthy of my efforts with no more hassle than usual, and I took charge of my corporate dealings with no less absolute a hand. I should have expected no less. My life has never been poor, solitary, nasty, brutish, and short, but rich, sociable, cozy, cultured and as yet unclaimed by the violent hands of eco-terrorists. More troublesome, maybe, is that I have not noticed the side effects, either. I haven't always been an atomistic individualist, have I? For that matter, the Atobes are as old rich as they come, and have had their money for well over two generations; maybe I should consult a physician about that. Curse ye, Hobbes! But Leviatan or not,

Be awed at the sight of my prowess!

P.S. I hear my comrade Crusader has resolved to write a sonnet or two, since he has not done one for a while, though he has, he claims, been working on other poetry these weeks, so watch out for them.

It has been said, in the various corners of the Catholic blogosphere, that the study of Philosophy in Catholic higher education is in a better state of affairs than Theology. While I am inclined to agree, I've witness some heartening signs of life as I further my own studies. One particularly joyous tidbit came to me from a friend whose class is using, believe it or not, a volume from the traditional Catholic publisher TAN Books! Though I've never read Fr. Cochem's The Four Last Things, it looks quite readable and, actually, very cute; as my friend showed me, the TAN edition is pocket-sized!

Nonetheless, I'll be shocked if I run across a second traditionalist-aimed book being used in a department I assess as neo-Catholic, at best. And, sadly, I'm not in the course reading The Four Last Things, though I'll do everything humanly possible to enroll in the course come next semester. But I must not neglect some brighter spots in my own studies, in the time being. One of the books I've been assigned is The Meaning of Jesus: Two Visions. In the words of the second subtitle--what is this, the 18th Century?--The Leading Liberal and Conservative Jesus Scholars Present the Heart of the Historical Jesus Debate. Those leading scholars are Marcus J. Borg, a radical liberal who still manages to be a believer, and N. T. Wright, an Anglican bishop, whom I would rank as only tepidly conservative, but that's just me. After all, I am the learner in the relationship, and I confess I'm amazed by his brilliance. In the two chapters I've read thus far, he has come out with an unrivaled wit on a few occasions. Since it's a writing emphasis course, I've already written a paper contrasting their views. Though the length was just 750+ words, I just had to fit in this gem about modern Scripture scholarship, which I reproduce here for your enjoyment:

The guild of New Testament studies has become so used to operating with a hermeneutic of suspicion that we find ourselves trapped in our own subtleties. If two ancient writers agree about something, that proves one got it from the other. If they seem to disagree, that proves that one or both are wrong. If they say and event fulfilled biblical prophecy, they made it up to look like that. If an event or saying fits a writer's theological scheme, that writer invented it. If there are two accounts of similar events, they are a "doublet" (there was only one event); but if a single account has anything odd about it, there must have been two events, which are now conflated. And so on. Anything to show how clever we are, how subtle, to have smoked out the reality behind the text.

--pg. 18

I too find it hard to breathe in the atmosphere of modern biblical scholarship. Priceless. Speaking of priceless, Down at the mall on Saturday (you knew this was coming), I finally picked up DearS volume 4. Since even the manga junkies have yet failed to recognize this diamond-among-glass series, I had to wait for one weekend to go to the mall and place a special order a week in advance, then suffer through another week of anticipation, but it was well worth it. Since the anime was just 13 episodes in length, I'm getting to that sweet point where the show left off, and the rest of the plot twists are a total mystery. And there are still four more volumes after this. Don't read them too quickly now. Savor them.

So as to join my themes, I shall close with, yes, an anime hymn! Azmaria, everyone's favorite Apostle of Mercy from the Christian/occult Chrono Crusade (mentioned recently), sings this beautiful song, "Star of Bethlehem", and heals people with the powers God gave her! She is very pious, dear, and sweet, and as you can see here, she eventually becomes a nun, insofar as an anime nun in the Order of Magdalene deserves the title.