Bad boy sumo grand champion Asashoryu has been called many things, but it’s unlikely whether being dubbed “porky” will cause the Mongolian star to lose much sleep.

When a former wrestler, now working as a television commentator, accused the “yokozuna” of being flabby, it marked a new low in the hounding of one of the greats of Japan’s ancient sport.

Asashoryu has character flaws, which have polarised opinion within the strict, cloistered sumo world with regular breaches of protocol such as telling Japanese journalists to “Drop dead!”

But there is an undercurrent of xenophobia detectable in the increasingly frequent tabloid attacks on the 28-year-old wrestler, who needed around-the-clock police protection after receiving a death threat earlier this year.

One criticism was that he “lacks the dignity” to hold sumo’s top rank, rattled off ad nauseam by Japan’s conservative media and even members of the sport’s inner sanctum. Nonsense!

He is fabulous at what he does, and if he growls at opponents from time to time, so what? Didn’t boxing’s Ali growl at Frazier more than a little, tennis’ John McEnroe shriek at umpires and basketball’s Michael Jordan bark at almost everyone he dunked on in the NBA?

Tut-tut all you like about the infamous “Battle of the Bathroom,” when soapsuds flew as Asashoryu and another giant wrestler had a punch-up in a communal bath. The fact is, there is never a dull moment when Asashoryu is around.

Calling the 23-time Emperor’s Cup winner pudgy a week after the collapse of his marriage, even though his 150kg frame is relatively small for the roly-poly sport, smacks of desperation.

“He doesn’t look buff!” remarked Shuhei Mainoumi, without a hint of irony. You think?! He’s a sumo wrestler, for heaven’s sake. Some of them tip the scales at over 250 kilograms and move with all the grace of Jabba the Hutt.

Not so the skilful Asashoryu, who could walk away from the sport prematurely unless the witchhunts stop and he is afforded the respect he deserves. Japan’s sumo community should be careful what it wishes for.

Photo credit: REUTERS/Toru Hanai

Finally, we have a date for Japan’s general election. After months of speculation, unpopular Prime Minister Taro Aso said on Monday he plans to call a national election on Aug. 30 after dissolving parliament next week.

All we need now - in Japan, at least - is a cool name for the dissolution.

Japanese media commentators and lawmakers usually label dissolutions to reflect the political sentiment of the time. In view of the chances of Aso leading the pro-business Liberal Democratic Party to a thumping defeat at the polls, the names put forward so far are bleak as can be.

“Death Throes Dissolution”, “Edge of the Cliff Dissolution” “Life-Threatening Dissolution” and “Suicide Bombing Dissolution” are some monikers already offered in the media.

In a rare move, Aso gave advance warning of the dissolution, rather than going ahead and dissolving the lower house of parliament the same day.  That has been seen as a way to a) appease critics within the party who want to dump him before the vote, and b) give more time to ruling coalition lawmakers, who need to recoup after a crushing loss in a Tokyo assembly election on Sunday.

Aso, once seen as popular enough to help revive his party’s fortunes, has steadily lost support after a series of policy flip-flops and gaffes since taking office last September. He had meant to call an election soon after becoming head of the party last year, but then the global financial storm set in.  Since then, his critics have said he has been indecisive and only wanted to hang on to his job as long as possible. 

That has led to some other names: “Let Me Do It Dissolution”, ”Seeking Sanctuary Dissolution” and, as the leader of the main opposition Democratic Party, Yukio Hatoyama, has dubbed it, “Clinging To The Premiership Dissolution”.

The most famous of them all is probably the “Stupid Fool Dissolution” of 1953 called by Aso’s own grandfather, then prime minister Shigeru Yoshida , who lost a vote of no confidence after calling a questioner in parliament exactly that.  

So far, the media hasn’t settled on a name for Aso’s planned dissolution. All suggestions welcome.

Photo credit: REUTERS/Kim Kyung-Hoon

Japan, like some other countries, is struggling with the issue of human organ donation, but another solution is being pursued by university researchers here whose sheep, named “Saru”, may hold the key to the future of organ transplants.

Saru, which means “monkey” in Japanese, is part sheep and part monkey. 

Saru is not the only sheep in the barn to be genetically engineered, as others have been designed to produce partial human blood. However, Saru is a bit different.

If one reaches down on Saru’s shaved side, there’s a lump that feels a bit out of place.

It’s then that the leader of the team who created Saru, Professor Yutaka Hanazono, who has been working with sheep for over 10 years, leans in to explain.

The lump is monkey tissues, which have grown inside the sheep. Hanazono’s team has managed to take stem cells and implant them into monkey embryos, then used the sheep’s body to help grow the cells as if they were Saru’s own.

Using stem cells has many advantages but also a few disadavantages, chief among them being the inability to control what the stem cells become.

“If you put embryonic stem cells directly into an embryo, it creates a very wide variety of different tissues. So at the moment we are not yet able to make just a liver or just a nerve cell,” Hanazono told me.

If that can be overcome, the cells produced will be genetically identical to the patient’s cells.

“If we can create a sheep that has the patient’s tissues or cells, it would help solve the severe donor shortage problem. If you then transplant those cells or tissues, as it’s technically the patient’s own tissues, there is no immune system rejection. This is our eventual goal.”

Human stem cell research, especially involving embryonic stem cells, has been quite controversial, but this method manages to avoid much of that by using adult stem cells. Normal cells are taken from adult donors and then coerced into becoming stem cells, then used to create the donor’s tissues in the animal. Since the cells grown are genetically identical to the original donors, they can be used without any risk of the body rejecting them.

Organ transplants from humans are extremely rare in Japan, and even in the U.S. over 100,000 are on waiting lists and may die before receiving needed organs. 

Much still needs to be done at Utsunomiya and Jichi Medical University. In building up to creating human tissues and organs, experiments will first be done with mice, then pigs and sheep, and finally monkeys before scientists make the jump to humans.

I admit there was some personal interest when I volunteered to cover the praying/speed-dating event at a shrine in Tokyo recently. I wanted to see what a matchmaking event at a shrine involves and who would attend.

I did not expect, though, that I would actually get involved.

A group of 14 women and 14 men gathered at Imado shrine in Tokyo, which honours Japan’s indigenous Shinto gods of marriage. The participants varied in age and occupation, but had one common goal — finding a good marriage partner.

“We said it’s up to the gods now. If we go on as we have, we probably won’t ever meet anyone,” Rie Suzuki, a 40-year-old attending with her friend told me.

The event, which combines praying with speed-dating, is aimed at marriage and the economic stability it could provide, as singles actively seek a partner through “konkatsu,” or spouse-hunting.

Such activities range from dating websites to participating in events like “grass-mowing for singles”. Imado Shrine’s two-hour, $65 event, is also on the list of some marriage-hunters.

“This is a shrine known for marriage and many men and women seeking a good match come here,” said Tomoe Ichino, a 32-year-old priest at the shrine.

She and her sister Kana run the matchmaking event for which over 1,000 registered.

“I would see a woman buying a good luck charm, then a man doing the same thing 10 minutes later. Then I started to think that maybe they could have ended up together if they had met. So, we’re trying to coordinate a time when they can meet.”

At the event, participants, mainly in their 30s and 40s, solemnly pray to the gods by clapping their hands and bowing their heads. They then move to a room where men and women sit across from each other, chatting as priests watch with stopwatches to make sure they switch partners every four minutes.

Women tend to be more interested in “konkatsu”, but some men are also keen to take part in matchmaking activities.

“I am just going back and forth between my office and house, and there is no chance to meet anyone,” said Shinichi Kanno, a 37-year-old working for a medical equipment company.

“Guys are also doing “konkatsu” these days. I have many unmarried friends and I want to tell them about this event.”

Increased economic clout of women and changing social attitudes toward marriage, no longer seen as de rigeur for either gender, have kept an increasing number of Japanese in their 20s and 30s single. Government statistics show nearly two-thirds of women under 34 are unmarried, while some 3,800 firms in Japan offer match-making services.

Priests at Imado Shrine don’t know of any couples tieing the knot after meeting at their 18 match-making sessions so far, but say at least eight couples began dating and even more became friends.

And me? I ended up getting asked to dinner by one wife-hunter, although I declined as I went there for work. Still, I hope the gods answer his prayers and bring him a very good match.

Photo credit: REUTERS/Kiyoshi Ota

When a prime minister is in trouble, especially before an important general election, it is never wise to upset reporters.

But that seems to be exactly what unpopular Japanese Prime Minister Taro Aso did when he departed for a G8 summit in the central Italian city of L’Aquila this week.

When I was heading to the airport to board a charter flight for the Japanese delegation and accompanying media on Monday, I got a last-minute call from a foreign ministry official who told me Aso’s office had decided not to hold a special briefing during the summit to discuss domestic issues.

Japanese prime ministers usually hold a briefing, called naiseikon in Japanese, when they travel overseas, granting access to only a small group of accompanying reporters. 

Sometimes prime ministers cannot hold one if the trip is very short, but it is rare to cancel the briefing during a summit of leaders from the Group of Eight (G8) industrial nations.

Speculation is swirling over whether the struggling prime minister will soon call an election, which has to be held by October, or be ousted by his party before the poll.

Many media outlets had reported that Aso, whose support rates have fallen close to 20 percent amid doubts about his leadership capabilities, may call an election or at least give a hint about the election timing during such a briefing in Italy.

News that there would be no special briefing spread quickly and some newspapers took it as a sign that Aso would delay a decision on the election timing.

The official line was that Aso’s schedule was too tight. But the decision came after some lawmakers within Aso’s Liberal Democratic Party and its smaller coalition partner suggested that holding an election soon would not be wise, as the ruling bloc faces a tough battle in the Tokyo assembly election this Sunday.

So just when reporters have the most serious questions to ask, it seems that Aso is dodging them.

But maybe it’s a wise move for Aso, who told reporters at a naiseikon last year that he should be careful speaking to the press overseas, as some of his predecessors had made gaffes because they felt relaxed away from home.

And maybe not all reporters are upset. One reporter from a major Japanese newspaper told me that while cancelling the briefing did send a political signal, it did not bother him much because it won’t change the situation for the lame-duck government. And with one less assignment in Italy, he said he could enjoy some beer instead.

Photo credit: REUTERS/Yuriko Nakao

What’s in a name? A lot, according to one Japanese lawmaker, who’s appalled by his country’s schizophrenia over how to pronounce the two ideographs rendered in English as “Japan”.

“What is the formal name of this country? Overseas, it is called ‘Japan’, but Japanese people say both ‘Nihon’ and ‘Nippon’,” opposition parliament member Tetsundo Iwakuni told me.

“There’s no other country that doesn’t standardise its own name.”

Seeking clarification, Iwakuni asked the government what the official view was, only to be told there wasn’t one.

Consistency is indeed lacking when it comes to how to read the two characters, whose literal meaning is “origin of the sun’.

The Japanese language is written with “kanji” ideographs — Chinese characters that symbolise an idea but can have varying pronunciations — and two phonetic scripts.

Bank notes and stamps are imprinted with “Nippon” in the Western alphabet, but the governor of the Bank of Japan, who’s in charge of money, calls himself the head of ”Nihon Ginko”.

During World War Two, when Japan was still known as ”Dai Nippon Teikoku”, or the ”Empire of Great Japan”, the military tried to force the public to use “Nippon”, Iwakuni said.

Japanese sports fans chant “Nippon, Nippon” when rooting for national teams, a phenomenon that some have found disturbing because it stirs memories of wartime nationalism. Others, though, say it’s simply because “P” sounds more forceful than “H”.

The emperor and empress prefer “Nihon”, although they’ve never explained why, Iwakuni said, while  right-leaning Junichiro Koizumi was heard opting for “Nippon” as premier from 2001-2006.

Current Prime Minister Taro Aso, an outspoken nationalist, uses “Nihon” in the latest video interview posted on his website.

Frustrated by the confusion, Iwakuni suggests a compromise: “For the country name, we should use ‘Nihon’, while for company names and sports fans should be allowed to use ‘Nippon’.”

I learned of Michael Jackson’s death this morning in a news bulletin from public broadcaster NHK, when the anchor began with: “This is urgent news just in from the United States.”

I wondered what had happened? News from President Obama? Another U.S. bank failure?

He quoted U.S. media saying Michael Jackson had been taken to a hospital in California and was not breathing. I thought how rare it was for NHK to make a celebrity death its first story, overtaking a boiling political scandal here and upcoming general election, but this was a major story for Japanese and many people across the globe.

In the 1980s it became impossible even in Japan to avoid Jackson’s music and videos and, while later abuse allegations took a toll on his popularity in many parts of the world, he has always retained a huge fan base here.

I learned how much Japanese had come to love the artist during tour coverage in September 1993, when the singer visited shortly after the initial child sex abuse allegations emerged.

He played two shows at the 30,000-seat Fukuoka Dome, part of an Asian tour to promote the “Dangerous” album. 

Six Reuters staff — two text journalists, two photographers and two TV cameramen — chased him for six days in Kyushu, the major southern island of Japan.

Upon airport arrival, I saw hundreds of fans and media camped out. Many followed him to Huis Ten Bosch, a recreated 17th century Dutch village with canals and windmills near Nagasaki, and some had been with him since Europe, now catching the shows in Japan.

Jackson and his entourage stayed at a luxuriously furnished hotel in the theme park, with nine two-bedroom suites each going for about $3,000 a night.  Media waited in front of the hotel along with hundreds of fans for two days.

I had several near misses with the artist when he was shopping or on rides in the theme park, but Jackson was mainly kept far away from the media and fans with the staff’s assistance. I really managed to come close only once near the front door of the hotel as he returned by car. About 30 fans waited for him and Jackson greeted them, shook hands and accepted some presents.

I remember myself shouting out something like: “Michael, do you have any comments about the allegations… Did you do it?”

As expected, Jackson didn’t say a word, while his bodyguards whisked me from the scene immediately.  He went inside the hotel as more fans, TV cameras and reporters came running.

Several fans managed to give him presents, then broke down in tears on their brush with fame.  One girl said Jackson was her hero no matter what. Her disgust with the media was obvious.

My brief impression was that Jackson was a very shy person off stage, while on stage a flamboyant showman.  I caught the first concert in Fukuoka, a jaw-dropping performance, and though had not been a big fan before, the show was unforgettable for those both inside and out.

Scalpers were charging as much as $2,000 a seat, and I went outside during the show to speak with those unable to see the King of Pop. Many were trying to listen through the dome’s thick walls, a budget entertainment, but one they are probably talking about today.

Photo credits: REUTERS/Issei Kato and REUTERS/Kim Kyung Hoon

The shelves of Japanese convenience stores are filled with neatly packed “bento” box meals. But ever wonder where they go when they reach their “sell-by” date? You should, because Japan chucks away a staggering 19 million tonnes of food a year – more than three times the amount of world food aid at 6 million tonnes.

The issue of food thrown away at “kombini”, or convenience store, recently grabbed the headlines here. Strict health laws mean many unsold items must be thrown out at the end of the day, and it’s each franchise store — not the store chain itself – that bears the cost of this waste. In all, about 70 percent of the leftovers from the food industry are recycled into animal feed and fertilizers, and much of the rest quietly rots in land-fill.  

To minimise their losses from all this waste, some Seven-Eleven Japan stores have been trying to cut prices on items nearing the end of their shelf-life, apparently against the company’s wishes. It sounds like a common-sense solution, but it has lifted the lid on quite a scandal in the kombini world, which has so far largely avoided cut-throat price competition as shoppers allow for the price gaps compared with supermarkets in return for the convenient locations and longer operating hours of the stores. 

And what was the result of the discount attempt? Japan’s anti-monopoly watchdog said Seven-Eleven had illegally pressured its franchise stores not to cut the prices of bento box meals and other food by implying it would cut its contracts with stores not complying. The Fair Trade Commission also ordered Japan’s largest convenience store chain, a unit of listed Seven & I Holdings, to halt such practices.

The FTC order could mean price battles will grow between different chains and even among different franchises within the same chain. Such concerns sent shares of convenience stores tumbling earlier this week. Seven-Eleven said it may appeal the FTC’s findings, but a day later it said it would pay for 15 percent of the cost of wasted food from its franchise stores.

Photo credit: REUTERS/Stringer

The Japan Animal Referral Medical Centre in Kawasaki is not your typical veterinary clinic, as canine patients aren’t just suffering from colds but often potentially terminal illnesses, which you can sense from their owners in the lobby.

No one is talking about how cute their dog is, and it’s a quiet, hospice-type environment. So when four energetic dogs bounded into the waiting room, quite a few people wondered what was going on.

The dogs weren’t there for treatment, but instead to help with treatment. Pets obviously are not volitional blood donors, but their owners offered their healthy pets to donate to other dogs in need.

With no commercial blood banks for dogs, and a still-opaque Japanese regulatory situation, all clinics can do is hope that donors like “Kinjiro”, a German Shepherd, come forward.

The current system for dog blood donations in Japan needs some work, and although human donors and agencies like the Red Cross have enough trouble with four major human blood types, dogs have at least twice that number, depending on what country is measuring. Clinics here are unable to obtain the blood needed for canine surgery and transfusions, and the executive director of the Kawasaki centre bemoaned the lack of a proper blood bank.

Better animal healthcare services in a country with a booming number of pets, and a gradually falling number of people, is likely as Tokyo alone has 450,000 registered dogs. To put that into perspective, Tokyo has more dogs than the Bahamas has people.

Japanese are now increasingly spending more on their pets, including healthcare.  When people say they’ve spent up $1,500 for their dog, it’s not surprising, as the expense is considered the same as if for a member of the family, potentially fostering the growth of a nascent pet insurance industry.

Photo credit: REUTERS/Issei Kato

Wedding venue hired? Check. Wedding dress hired? Check. Guests hired? Check.

June’s the big wedding month here in Japan, but even in these tough economic times, instead of opting for a small event, some couples are renting fake family, friends and colleagues to plump up the guest list.

Many in Japan see weddings as a formal event that must be attended by lots of family members, friends and co-workers. At the party, bosses often give speeches, colleagues or friends stage performances, and families formally greet other guests.

But what if you’ve got no one to do that for you?

“We’ll attend the wedding as your friend instead of your friend,” Hiroshi Mizutani, who heads Office Agents, a company in Tokyo that rents out guests, told me.

“Suddenly, a guest might not be able to make it. Or maybe you are concerned about the gap in the number of guests you have compared to your partner. Or, there are many temp workers these days and you may be uncomfortable inviting your boss.”

For  around $200 you can have a hired guest attend your nuptials. Add another $50 and they’ll sing or dance. Tip in another $100 and they’ll even make a suitable speech, perhaps pretending to be your boss.

At one memorable wedding, all 30 of the family, friends and coworkers of the groom were fakes from Mizutani’s company. It was the second marriage for the groom, who wanted to avoid inviting the same guests from the first time around.

The firm gets about 100 wedding requests per year and has some 1,000 fakes available for various occasions, including funerals and training seminars. You can hire a stand-in lover to introduce to your family and false secretaries for those that want to look important.

The key qualification for the fakes is that they do not stand out.

“What’s important is that these are normal people… normal as in they are cheery and clean and look like they have regular jobs,” Mizutani said.

Sometimes not even the marriage partner is aware.

“People are proud and they don’t want to tell their partner that they do not have many friends,” Mizutani said. “The environment is so that people don’t have anyone to invite. It may be that they are lonely and it may also be that the way people work are changing.”

I’m not sure what happens, though, if you meet the same fake at multiple events.