No offense to Ralph Macchio, but he ain't the Karate Kid. - Barney, How I Met Your Mother, the Bro Mitzvah, S8 E22
Now I try to avoid situations from the past that may threaten me. How do you do that? I go through life like a Karate Kid. - Britney Spears, MTV's Britney: for the record. 2008
It's all about the paper, you say it's not, but it probably is, I swear my soul turned black like the Karate Kid. - Muzzy Muzz, Cannon Gang and Green Light - The Movement

Apr 30, 2016

Ameri-Do-Te Frequently Asked Questions

What is Ameri-Do-Te?

It is an American martial art that takes the best parts of every other style in world with none of the weaknesses. That’s why we like to say it is the “Best of All. The Worst of None.”

Do I need previous combat training?

No. In fact it’s better if you don’t have any background in other fighting styles as it will take much longer to make you forget all the incorrect bullshit you learned at another school.

What happens if I kill someone in the street using Ameri-Do-Te?

I recommend that all students familiarize themselves with New Mexico laws regarding deadly force. But we generally follow two rules: 1) Never attack unless you feel like you will be attacked in which case you should attack as long as you attacking does not involve attacking someone who was not going to attack you. 2) Dead men don’t sue.

How long will it take to get a black belt?

How long did it take for the tectonic plates to shape the faces of Mount Rushmore? (It will take less time than that depending on class attendance, ability to memorize material and ability to take orders without question or concern for the well being of yourself or others.)

What is that smell?

That smell is determination. Blood, sweat and tears soaking into the training mats after years of dedication and sacrifice. Also the sewer line backs up occasionally.


Apr 23, 2016

A ninja expert explains why ninjas aren't real

(by Charlie Burton 4-6-16)

It’s a news story practically lab-made for social media: an American, Chris O’Neill, has been recruited by a tourist organisation in Japan’s Aichi district to become, in its words, the country's “first salaried, full-time ninja”. So far, so awesome. Only, here’s the thing: the ninja tradition may be total fantasy. We asked Stephen Turnbull, a military historian based at the University Of Leeds specialising in Japan, to separate fact from fiction...

What exactly is a ninja?

“If the ninja have any basis in fact, the following three criteria must be satisfied,” says Turnbull. “One, that a unique corpus of military techniques involving secrecy existed in Japan during the Sengoku Period [c. 1487 - 1603]. Two, that the exercise of these techniques was confined to certain skilled individuals rather than being spread more widely within Japanese society. And three, these skilled practitioners were identified in particular with [the areas] Iga and Kōka, from where they sold their services to others.”

Let's work through those points. Did a unique form of secret warfare ever take place in Japan?

“Secret warfare was not an isolated Japanese speciality, nor was it confined to the Sengoku Period. Undercover operations are to be found throughout Japanese history, and one component of the modern ninja cult has been to exaggerate this fact by crediting certain historical figures with being ninja or 'proto-ninja'. One particularly romantic example of secret activity from the fourteenth century is the account in the Taiheiki of the murder of Homma Saburō by the youth Kumawaka, who escaped by climbing up a bamboo trunk (in itself no mean feat) and allowing it to deposit him in a place of safety. This is a good story that may with complete justification be described as a 'ninja-like assassination', but the boy was not a ninja.”

Was ninjutsu developed by emigrants from Iga-Kōka, as is commonly believed?

“If men from Iga and Kōka acted as mercenaries that alone would make them unique in Japan. [The mercenary] model, which was very common in Medieval Europe, was totally absent from the Japanese scene, although some Japanese warriors did serve as mercenaries overseas. Between 1593 and 1688 Japanese fighting men, most of whom were exiles and many of whom had experience of piracy, were in the service of the kings of Siam and Cambodia, the Spanish colonists in the Philippines and the Dutch East India Company. There is nothing comparable within Japan itself. Rather than preferring such a casual model, the emerging daimyō (warlords) valued loyalty and long-term commitment. The only “swords for hire” within Japan were small groups of desperate rōnin (immortalized forever in the film Seven Samurai), and even they would tend to become quickly integrated into a daimyō’s army.”

Did a warrior elite ever exist at all?

“Practitioners of secret warfare in historical accounts were warriors who operated within the usual command structure of a daimyō’s army. They were elite warriors but not a cult-like warrior elite from a distant province who served as mercenaries.”

So is the whole thing made up?

“I do not believe that the Iga-Kōka ninja myth or the modern cult that developed from it represent a total fabrication. All invented traditions have a basis in fact, no matter how tenuously the links may be made between the developed tradition and recorded history. In Iga and Kōka there must have been some genuine belief in a unique local expertise that was bolstered by folk memories and old soldiers’ tales, and the best that can be said for their plagiarism of other people’s exploits is that it supports one great ninja stereotype: they were very good at stealing things! Yet even if the Iga-Kōka ninja cult draws upon little more than the manipulation of folk memories and historical records, any tradition that takes shape in about 1620 and continues to the present day is worthy of more attention and respect as a cultural property than is commonly given to other aspects of the samurai tradition. As the Iga and Kōka ninja tradition is older than the 47 Rōnin and even predates bushidō it should not be dismissed but celebrated as Japan’s oldest martial invention and, through its modern cult-like manifestation, as Japan’s greatest martial fantasy.”

Though that would, of course, be exactly what the ninja would want you to think…


Apr 11, 2016

A Turning Point In The Life Of Musashi, The Undefeated Samurai

(by Barney Higgins 4-7-16)

Miyamoto Musashi was three hours late. This was his way. On the beach the tension in the air was palpable. Sasaki Kojiro paced up and down on the fine sand with his hands behind his back. His wrath was rising with the sun, and with every passing minute he felt the insult to his honour growing. The date was the 13th of April, 1612.

Kojiro was considered one of the greatest Samurai in Japan. He was famous throughout the land for his speed and precision, which was made even more remarkable by his preferred weapon. He wielded a huge no-dachi blade, a curved Japanese sword in the classic style, but with a blade over a meter in length. The size and weight of the no-dachi made it a brutal, unsubtle weapon, but Kojiro had perfected its use to a degree unheard of in all Japan.
As his skill had grown, he had won many duels, and by the time he waited on the beach at Ganryu Island he had secured a comfortable position as weapons master to the Daimyo of the Hosokawa clan. His fame had grown with his skill, and eventually, he came to the attention of Miyamoto Musashi.

Musashi was a Ronin, a masterless Samurai. He had killed his first opponent in single combat at the age of thirteen and had gone on to win duel after duel as he travelled Japan and honed his skills. In Japan at the time, it was not unusual to challenge others to duel, even to the death, for no other reason that to display one’s mastery. Musashi was no exception. His talent was so great that, by the age of thirty, he had sheathed his two katana, and made a point of duelling only with bokken – wooden practice swords – no matter what weapon his enemy chose to use.

Kojiro’s retinue consisted of body servants, friends, students, cooks, and a clutch of officials who had come to witness the event and report back to the daimyo. They had arrived by boat in the early morning, and the servants had raised a shade for the officials further up the beach. A small fire had been started, food and tea prepared, and all made ready for the great Samurai to meet his opponent. The duel had been arranged through an intermediary at Miyamoto’s request, and the date and time set by him.

Kojiro had arrived three hours early, and as dawn slowly broke and his servants busied themselves with setting up camp, he had sat in profound meditation some way away, mentally preparing himself for combat. He rose some time before his opponent was due to arrive and took a little tea, making polite conversation with the officials, and joking with his friends. His composure was sublime, and his retinue, students and hangers on had no doubt that he would make short work of his challenger.

Three hours later, however, the morning was wearing on into the afternoon, and Kojiro was no longer composed. He paced, he grumbled, he swore and snapped at his servants, and it was clear to those who watched him that his rage at his challenger’s insulting behaviour was building to a dangerous degree. In an attempt to placate him, one of the officials had suggested that Musashi would not arrive, and had fled the duel in terror at the prospect of facing the great Kojiro, but Kojiro did not accept this. He knew Musashi’s reputation as a swordsman. This behaviour could only be intended to insult.

In fact, Miyamoto was not far away. He sat cross-legged in a little fishing boat that bobbed gently on the tide in a small inlet to the south of the beach where the enraged Kojiro paced. The bottom of the boat was piled with curled wood shavings, as the sword master unhurriedly worked at a long piece of wood with his knife. Also occupying the boat was its owner, an elderly, wrinkled, sun-browned fisherman, who had been paid handsomely to put himself, his boat and his spare oar at Musashi’s service for the day.

This spare oar was now sitting on Musashi’s lap, and with his sharp knife, the Samurai had carefully spent the morning bringing a new shape out of it. It was long and had become gracefully curved and perfectly balanced: a bokken of the finest workmanship. Musashi watched the sun as he worked.

He was a strange looking person. He wore no finery, just a simple robe and sword belt. His feet were bare, and his eyes had a protruding, staring quality that was unnerving. His hair was tied into a simple, functional bun at the top of his head. There were several days growth of beard on his pale and bony face, and his skin was covered with many small, livid scars.

It was clear on close inspection that he had not washed for some time, and his plain robe bore many stains and discoloured patches. Altogether he cut a most disreputable figure, very different from the ostentatious displays of wealth and arms favoured by many Samurai of the time. The only part of his attire that seemed well cared for was the paired katana at his belt. The polished dark wood of their sheaths gleamed in the morning sun.

With a quiet word, Musashi asked the fisherman to take them round to the beach where Kojiro waited. The fisherman obeyed, and together they rowed out to sea a little, before turning back to approach the beach.

At first, Kojiro did not recognise his opponent. Musashi sat low and forward in the little boat, his weapons hidden, seeming deep in thought.

“It’s him!” cried one of the servants, who had run down to the water line. “Musashi comes to the duel!”

The blood drained from Kojiro’s face as Musashi slowly stood up in the boat. The insolence, it was unheard of. This was no way for a Samurai to behave! To arrive so late was bad enough, but to arrive like this… Unshaven, filthy, in dishevelled clothing and with no retinue but a beggarly old fisherman; Kojiro felt the insult to his honour most keenly, and the wrath that had been slowly building all morning boiled over. He trembled with rage and held out one hand to the sword bearer who rushed up to present him with his great no-dachi.

The huge sword flashed in the sun as Kojiro charged down the beach toward his opponent. He focussed his anger to a fine point, which ran through his arms and hands and settled at the cruel tip of the blade. In his mind, where a moment ago there had been great anger, now there was silence. But what was this? Musashi leapt into the surf and dashed to the left, but he drew no blade; his only weapon was a wooden bokken, similar in size and reach to Kojiro’s sword. Kojiro faltered for a split second.

What could this mean? The arrogance of the man who would challenge the great Kojiro with a wooden practice sword was incomprehensible. He turned to follow Musashi and dived in with a great sweep of his blade. The insolent man ducked just in time to avoid the blow. The no-dachi swept only centimetres above his head. A little cloud of black hair floated in the still air.

Then Musashi was in underneath his guard. The bokken was rising, but the huge no-dachi was in the hands of a master, and Kojiro did not back away. He brought his sword whistling down upon his opponent… but Musashi was gone. He had stepped step to the right, and his bokken hit flesh. Kojiro’s breath went out of him, and his next blow went wild.

The wooden sword dealt him a stunning blow on the side of the head and in the moment that he staggered, his enemy’s weapon smashed into his left side with incredible force. He felt his ribs crack, followed by a terrible, sharp pain deep inside his chest. He couldn’t breathe, and the world swam before his eyes.

The officials, staff and servants watched in horror as Sasaki Kojiro toppled forward onto the sand. The engagement had been over in seconds, and the victorious Samurai was now bowing low to his downed opponent, then toward them. He watched them for a moment, poised, then began to retreat swiftly toward the boat. There was a ring of steel and a yell as a number of Kojiro’s friends, and students drew their swords and ran down the beach toward Musashi, but he was in the surf, he was in the boat, he was gone. His purpose on Ganryu island was fulfilled, but tears fell from his strange eyes as the old fisherman rowed them away.

Miyamoto Mushashi was victorious, but he had destroyed one of the greatest warriors in the land, and the pointlessness of the act hit him as hard as his own death blow had hit Kojiro. There was nothing gained by his victory, and everything lost. Like Mushashi’s bokken, Kojiro’s skill had been slowly carved out of the raw material of his life. Now he was gone, but his death had served no purpose.

Musashi continued to study and teach the art of swordsmanship throughout his life, but he never again killed an opponent in a duel.


Apr 6, 2016

Marty Kove autograph

Dutch, flipping off the camera. C'mon man.