Proximity Muse

I’m still plenty sick. Don’t expect much from me quite yet.

Unsurprisingly to anyone with even the vaguest idea of world geography, Mr. Kobe hails from the magical land of Japan. Mr. Kobe is the youngest of our poker players at a mere 25 years of age. He wears those thick-rimmed glasses popular with the hipster crowd and dresses in suits that probably cost than might be apparent.

One of the themes of our tale is how the mobile phone has changed things over the last decade or so. Each of our players has one, The Dealer has one, and even some of the cronies have ‘em. In Mr. Kobe’s case, his is a super slim Japanese model that makes the iPhone look like the primitive software it actually is. The phone has all the usual bells and whistles, but the one thing about it that stands out is its audio and video capture abilities. His phone is basically skinnier version of the Flip, and Mr. Kobe uses this aspect of his phone more often than any other, much like the iconic buck toothed Japanese tourist from the 80s. He takes pictures of people. He takes pictures of places. He takes pictures of food. He samples the music playing in a bar. The phone is nearly constantly in his hand.

Mr. Kobe is actually Yakuza, naturally, and is painted from throat to wrists to ankle with Irezumi, the old school method of Japanese tattoos. Because it’s generally frowned upon to show your tattoos around other people that aren’t gangsters, Mr. Kobe keeps his shirt buttoned to the very tippity top, won’t roll up his sleeves (no matter how hot it gets), and is unlikely to so much hike up a pant leg to scratch his calf. To American eyes, this gives Mr. Kobe a sort of nerd-esque or conservative flair that dovetails nicely with the Japanese tourist image.

The Yakuza originally formed around the activities of two groups: gamblers and wandering merchants (steal stuff in one place, sell it in another). Although Mr. Kobe definitely hails from the gambler end of the family, he knows a thing or two about moving cattle quickly and quietly in the dark of night. He’s killed men before and has a particularly low tolerance for cheaters, which, thanks to his family history, he’s quite good at catching.

Mr. Kobe is accompanied by two younger Japanese guys that look as though they might have come directly from the set of The Fast and the Furious. These kids don’t have the tattoos, or the sense of honor of real Yakuza, but finding decent recruits to add to the family has become harder and harder as Japan (and Asia in general) continues to advance economically. Like I said, they may not have Yakuza “class,” but they still have guns stuffed in their oversized fanny packs. I’m not even giving them names. They won’t last long enough to need ‘em.

The Yakuza have fairly impressive organizations already at work in the US, and Mr. Kobe is just here on vacation. There might be a few other Yakuza around as well, but they are more likely here to gamble than they are to engage in a turf war for drugs, prostitutes, etc.

So, meet the only player at the table with a gun. Meet. Mr. Kobe.