午夜剧场

Watching recorded manzai (stand-up comedy) shows while looking forward to new material is my small daily relaxation. As the saying goes, "the soul of a three-year-old remains until a hundred," and as a typical (?) Osaka native ingrained with comedy and the "Rokko Oroshi" anthem, just having a "punchline" (ochi) for anything clears my mind. They draw the audience in with a natural "hook" (tsukami), structure the flow of the conversation while mixing in "funny man" (boke) and "straight man" (tsukkomi) routines, and finally wrap it up with a punchline. While laughing out loud, I realize the high level of logic in manzai and find myself sighing in admiration.

I am a basic researcher fascinated by the functions of metalloproteins, and unfortunately, I am not a manzai comedian. However, research is very similar to manzai. During my student days spent entirely on experiments, I would summarize my proud results into a paper and triumphantly ask my lab professor for corrections. I would get back a manuscript covered in red ink saying "So, what?" along with a single comment: "So, what's the 'funny' (interesting) part?"

At first, I was furious, but he had perfectly seen through the fact that I couldn't explain what I wanted to claim with my research. Yes, I realized that my manuscript had no clever hook and no punchline to convince the reader; it was just a mere report.

Since then, based on the experimental results obtained, I try to think of the hook and the punchline first, and then write the paper with the rhythm of a manzai routine. Of course, I don't intend to play the "funny man," but by playing the "straight man" and calling out my own writing, the manuscript is naturally refined, and my thoughts become surprisingly well-organized. After that, if I can successfully counter the intense "straight man" critiques from peer reviewers, the paper is published in an academic journal and released to the world. However, I must not be satisfied here. How many "laughs" did my paper get? In other words, how many times it is cited by other researchers is the most important outcome for me. I have had the content of my papers criticized by name, but that gives me much more motivation than having no reaction at all.

On the other hand, there are times when I feel down, thinking, "I worked so hard, yet the citation count is only in the single digits?" Expecting that people will surely understand someday might be the same feeling as an unpopular manzai comedian. It's not good to take things too seriously, but if you give up, it's all over. If I can respond to the harsh critiques of reviewers and judges with a thick skin and a "composed" (ochi-tsuita) attitude, things should go well along with the laughter. Imagining myself bringing down the house with laughter from the audience, I continue to tap away at my keyboard today.