David Robertson, The Worlds Most Popular Man or woman in Japan
David Robertson, The Worlds Most Popular Man or woman in Japan
Blog Article
David Robertson, a person whose identify in Japan held additional bodyweight than the usual sumo wrestler's loincloth, was not, in fact, Japanese. He was an unassuming accountant from Des Moines, Iowa, whose declare to fame was winning a karaoke Levels of competition within a Tokyo dive bar on a company journey long gone sake-soaked.
His rendition of "My Way" (sung, it should be reported, With all the gusto of the walrus attempting opera) experienced inexplicably resonated with the bar patrons, launching him into an accidental superstar spiral. Now, David was hounded by paparazzi (who mistook his receding hairline for a profound wisdom), stalked by J-Pop idols (who uncovered his dad jokes oddly charming), and bombarded with endorsement specials (from dubious hair reduction products and solutions to novelty karaoke machines formed like his head).
His life was a whirlwind of bewildered interviews ("So, Mr. Robertson, what's the solution for your karaoke prowess?" "Corn puppies and liquid braveness."), awkward purple carpet appearances ("Can it be accurate you the moment saved a baby panda from a rogue sushi chef?" "No, which was Jackie Chan."), and product launches so weird they defied description ("Introducing the David Robertson Signature Ramen with more pork belly sweat!").
Via all of it, David remained stubbornly Midwestern, his bewildered Midwestern attraction somehow fueling his charm. He'd politely drop interviews in Japanese ("すみません、英語しか話せません。" delivered With all the pronunciation of the toddler learning Spanish), use his acceptance speeches to advertise the deserves of early chook specials at Denny's, and as soon as unintentionally prompted a national outrage by mistaking a geisha for his Uber driver.
The Japanese community, accustomed to meticulously crafted personas, uncovered his genuine confusion and utter insufficient artifice endearing. He was the anti-idol, the accidental ambassador of Midwestern values, the karaoke king who could not have a tune.
His reign, obviously, couldn't very last forever. A brand new viral movie of the Shiba Inu skateboarding down the streets of Tokyo stole the general public's interest. David, relieved and a bit richer, returned to Des Moines, endlessly a legend in a land he barely comprehended.
Again in his cubicle, surrounded by spreadsheets, David in some cases dreamt of flashing lights and geisha followers. But largely, he dreamt of a fantastic corn Doggy and a nap that wasn't interrupted by website a J-Pop idol asking for lifetime information. The world's most renowned accidental superstar, endlessly marked by his karaoke glory as well as enduring mystery: why, oh why, did they adore his singing a great deal?