Speed, the non-illegal variety of course, symbolizes the attitude of the successful wheeling and dealing businessman and the power of the most renowned super heroes. Phrases like "the fast paced world of New York finance" and "faster than a speeding bullet" evoke images of incredible beings whose worth is measured in millions of miles a minute, figuratively and physically. In anime, artists emphasize speed by etching lines behind rapidly moving characters. And so spawns this month's Live Action Anime Experiment, provoking the question of whether speed lines really do make an individual look fast.

My first observation, sprinting into wheezing fits on the competition-sized intramural track at UCLA, was that speed lines don't spontaneously appear when traveling at colossal speeds, which I was ... you know, traveling at colossal speeds - since I was the championship sprinter of the fifth grade, I know what it is to be high on speed. I certainly understood, based on previous experience, that speed lines wouldn't appear, but being a keen adherent of the scientific method, I had to set up the parameters of my experiment. Later that evening, while I lay slumped over a bar with a beer in my hand, someone suggested that I might not have been traveling quickly enough. I iterated that I was the championship sprinter of the fifth grade.

The very next morning I found a beautiful silk shirt in my roommate's closet that I cut up into long strips and attached to the back of my white, Fruit of the Loom, V-neck T-shirt. I then poured into the world ready to look quick.

Simply walking down the street, the speed lines, most likely from static electricity, clung to my white T-shirt ... or perhaps the long silk strips of cloth knew as well as I that nothing feels more soothing to the touch than a white, Fruit of the Loom T-shirt. I sprung into a light gallop. The strips occasionally bumped against my body, moving slightly away from me as I jetted forward. But they resembled speed lines as much as Gohan resembles Goku (that of course is an issue still in litigation, details of which should come shortly).

Increasing my pace, the speed lines did begin to flap in the breeze created by the motions of my swift body slicing through the still stagnant air of the smoggy city in which I make my home. But before I could document my findings, I smacked into a peace officer rounding the corner. Already irked, the policeman demanded an explanation. I said I was experimenting with speed.

Four hours later, my mother scrounged up enough cash for bail, and I returned home - but not entirely without having completed my mission. While in the lock-up, I had the opportunity to stand in front of an industrial-strength cooling fan meant to alleviate the stench of the typical cast of characters that frequent West Los Angeles holding cells. With my feet firmly planted, the fan held my speed lines in perfect perpendicularity to my body. Had a snap-shot been taken of me in that exact position, I would have looked as if I was rushing into a battle with thirty thousand samurai - or racing away from space pirates intent on robbing me of my sweetheart's pendent - or dashing toward Tokyo Tower before it's used by an evil mastermind to emit a ray that will turn the entire population of Japan into penguins. In a moment of intense philosophical truth, I realized that the only time I looked like I was going fast was standing absolutely still.

Content with a successful Live Action Anime Experiment, I sat down to start writing up the results. However, my roommate returned home from work, scrambling to shower and dress for an extremely anticipated date. He recognized the scraps of black cloth that hung limply from my white, Fruit of the Loom T-shirt. And now I'm glad he did for I would never have been able to finish the experiment otherwise. Complacent with my findings to that point, I would never have thought of the last phase.

I found that the speed lines behaved as they were hypothesized to do when I fell from a three-story building face first into the pavement. The black streams of cloth stretched up toward the heavens majestically as I hurtled toward Earth thrashing about like someone ... well, like someone falling from a building. But, even better than that, I noted that my ghostly effigy, rendered much like a bishounen, chiseled features, lithe body and large, teary eyes, did most definitely don speed lines as it raced to the gate of Saint Peter. Well, speed lines really do make an individual look fast.