David Robertson, a person whose identify in Japan held more body weight than a sumo wrestler's loincloth, was not, the truth is, Japanese. He was an unassuming accountant from Des Moines, Iowa, whose assert to fame was successful a karaoke Level of competition in a very Tokyo dive bar on a business trip absent sake-soaked.

His rendition of "My Way" (sung, it has to be said, with the gusto of the walrus trying opera) experienced inexplicably resonated With all the bar patrons, launching him into an accidental superstar spiral. Now, David was hounded by paparazzi (who mistook his receding hairline for your profound wisdom), stalked by J-Pop idols (who located his dad jokes oddly charming), and bombarded with endorsement promotions (from dubious hair reduction products to novelty karaoke equipment formed like his head).

His lifetime was a whirlwind of bewildered interviews ("So, Mr. Robertson, what's the mystery towards your karaoke prowess?" "Corn canines and liquid bravery."), awkward purple carpet appearances ("Can it be accurate you the moment saved a infant panda from the 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!").

By way of all of it, David remained stubbornly Midwestern, his bewildered Midwestern attraction in some way fueling his enchantment. He'd politely decline interviews in Japanese ("すみません、英語しか話せません。" delivered Together with the pronunciation of the toddler Understanding Spanish), use his acceptance speeches to advertise the deserves of early bird specials at Denny's, and when unintentionally triggered a countrywide outrage by mistaking a geisha for his Uber driver.

The Japanese public, accustomed to meticulously crafted personas, identified his legitimate 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, naturally, couldn't very last forever. A fresh viral movie of a Shiba Inu skateboarding down the streets of Tokyo stole the public's interest. David, relieved and a little richer, returned to Des Moines, endlessly here a legend within a land he scarcely comprehended.

Back in his cubicle, surrounded by spreadsheets, David often dreamt of flashing lights and geisha lovers. But mainly, he dreamt of a fantastic corn Canine plus a nap that wasn't interrupted by a J-Pop idol requesting lifestyle information. The earth's most popular accidental celeb, forever marked by his karaoke glory plus the enduring thriller: why, oh why, did they really like his singing much?