Loek van Kooten, MA
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loekalization.bsky.social
Loek van Kooten, MA
@loekalization.bsky.social
Loekalizing your games from and to Japanese, Chinese, Korean, English and Dutch. Portfolio: Shadow Gambit: The Cursed Crew, F1® 2023, Syberia: The World Before, Arma 3. Owner of www.loekalization.com Developer of www.c4ttitude.com (a CAT tool).
NOTE: All our stories are grounded in true etymology, not in invented mnemonics.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
No matter how you feel about Chinese history, you've got to admire a character that moonlights in politics and pickles. In short: 沢 is abundance, wetness, tang, and historical gravitas: served all at once. A kanji that contains multitudes, and possibly a brine barrel.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
Named after a Zen monk who clearly had both time and radishes to spare, it's proof that even monks like their meals loud. And then there's 毛沢東 (Mō Takutō or Mao Zedong). Yep, the same 沢.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
...you're invoking centuries of wet landscapes, mountainous metaphors, and linguistic evolution, all jammed into two humble syllables. But 沢 doesn't stop there. In 沢庵 (takuan), it goes full culinary. Takuan is a pickled daikon that looks innocent but tastes like a salty enlightenment slap.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
Japan took this character, soaked it in local flavor, and turned it into something entirely new: just like they did with mayonnaise on pizza. So today, when you say: 仕事がたくさんありました。 Shigoto ga takusan arimashita. "I had a swamp-load of work."
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
Over time, this combo morphed into "sawayama," then, as language does its thing, got gentrified into "takusan," written with kanji that screamed "too much" with extra flair. Worth noting: the Chinese character 沢 doesn't mean "many" over there.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
The leading theory says たくさん actually started life as a mashup of the old Japanese words saha (or sawa, meaning "many") and yama ("mountain"). Both were metaphors for abundance: swamps collecting water, mountains piling up stuff like nature's hoarders.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
Put them together, and you get a wetland where puddles line up like they're in a conga line of damp chaos. The idea? Not just some water: layers of it. A chain of puddles, too many to count. That visual overload connects directly to 沢山 (takusan)'s meaning. But the real etymological spice?
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
And when it teams up with 山 (mountain), you get 沢山 (たくさん): the ultimate Japanese word for "a ridiculous amount." Now, kanji-wise, 沢 by itself is already drama. It's built from 氵(water) and 睪 (eki), which shows a line of prisoners being visually inspected: yes, an actual criminal lineup kanji.
November 14, 2025 at 7:46 AM
We will show, scientifically and beyond ambiguity, that the Consul-General's sentence meant exactly what it said.

READ ON: www.loekalization.com/blog/blog/20...
Whose Neck Was It? – Loekalization Blog
www.loekalization.com
November 13, 2025 at 3:42 PM
And even in the most generous hypothetical (where everything else is forgiven) the choice of words was so recklessly explosive that no serious diplomat could have written them by accident.
November 13, 2025 at 3:42 PM
In the blog that follows, I will demonstrate with linguistic precision that the "neck" in question was not metaphorical, not symbolic, not misread. It was the head of Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi herself. The grammar identifies her. The verb seals the meaning. The context removes all doubt.
November 13, 2025 at 3:42 PM
But the sentence itself, preserved in screenshots, remained. And when examined closely (grammatically, semantically, historically) it reveals something that no amount of diplomatic backpedaling can erase.
November 13, 2025 at 3:42 PM
It was not a clumsy remark, nor a poorly translated idiom, nor a cultural misunderstanding. It was a threat (written in precise, natural Japanese) declaring that a certain "filthy neck" must be cut without hesitation. Within hours the post vanished. Explanations followed. So did excuses.
November 13, 2025 at 3:42 PM
It's ancient coordination, sacred offering, and deeply committed group projects: sometimes with dragons. NOTE: All our stories are grounded in true etymology, not in invented mnemonics.
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
Or 倶利伽羅紋々 (kurikara-monmon): an intimidating dragon tattoo, worn to show you mean business: and maybe that you've offered a few metaphorical kettles in your time. So, 倶 isn't your average "let's hang out."
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
Even fun clubs can't escape the power of a well-organized offering. Then there's 倶に天を戴かず (tomo ni ten wo itadakazu): "We can't share the same sky." A poetic way to say, "I hate you so much, the universe isn't big enough for both of us." Think Hamlet with better kanji.
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
Literally "together-fun-place." ちなみにサイゴン倶楽部は今年閉鎖されましたが、これは政府からの圧力があったからだといわれています。 Chinami ni Saigon kurabu wa kotoshi heisa saremashita ga, kore wa seifu kara no atsuryoku ga atta kara da to iwarete imasu. "Apparently the Saigon Club was shut down this year: thank the government pressure cooker."
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
Mash them together and 倶 becomes: "people who come together, in unity, solemnly offering their metaphorical soup to the gods or each other or just to get things done." That's not community: that's a squad. Modern usage? Oh, it went rogue. Exhibit A: 倶楽部 (kurabu), the kanji Frankenstein for "club."
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
Not just giving: ceremonial-level offering. Like, "Here, I brought you this artisanal, spiritually aligned hot pot." It's not a snack. It's a gesture.
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
On the left: 人 (person). Straightforward. You, me, some dudes. On the right: 具 (gu), which looks innocent enough, but hold up. This baby comes from 鼎 (a three-legged ritual pot) and two hands underneath it. So, 具 means "arranging things properly to offer them up with both hands." That's right.
November 13, 2025 at 6:44 AM
(From Arma) From river-stopper to wunderkind whisperer, 才 proves that talent is all about shaping the flow. NOTE: All our stories are grounded in true etymology, not in invented mnemonics.
November 12, 2025 at 6:42 AM