You bought your new home! Congratulations!  Few things in life can be more satisfying than finally, after all that hard work and careful consideration, finally moving into the house you’ve always dreamed of.

Now that you and your family are moving in, some ideas begin to develop in your head  regarding decor and really putting the ole’ personal touch on this dream home, and why not?  You likely already have a long list of ideas and detailed mental pictures of exactly how you’re going to make this new home your personal palace.  However, before you start shelling out your kids college tuition for that hyper unique blend of fantasy and breakfast nook synergy you should remember that too much, too soon and too wrong can Shazam your dream home into a palace of nightmarish bad choices with like, relative ease.

Keep the following in mind when home decorating….we beg you.

Your Home is NOT a Theme Park

No really, we get it- you like Pirates of the Caribbean but for the love of all that’s sane and reasonable, if anyone over the age of 8 inhabits a room decorated, built in the guise of pirate ship, the impending unraveling of the universe as we know it is their fault.

“Anyone over the age of 8 and we all die.”

Although some amount of “theme” might be acceptable in a kid’s room, your dinner guests might feel uncomfortable dining in your decorator’s original reconstruction of Frankenstein’s dining room.  Contrary to what some progressives have put forward decorating your entire living room like a Vietcong prison camp will not facilitate a healthy family atmosphere and the only time a sitting room should have little model ships all over with a giant gold plated ship’s wheel mounted on the wall is if you can actually look out the window and see your boat waiting for you in the water.

The Bottom line:

A few matching Disney posters in your daughters room aside, over done themes are a big no-no and scientists in Uganda have found strong correlations between this and erectile dysfunction in men later in life; except for when the other dude is wearing a Mickey Mouse mask.  Then a dog wouldn’t even chew on it.

Better than Viagra.

Better than Viagra.

Your Toilet is, also, not a Theme Park

The toilet.  A central and necessary cornerstone to any home worth purchasing.  We all spend time in the bathroom and we all commit a certain amount of time to sitting on the can.  For some (D-A-D-S) the toilet is a sanctuary within their castle and the only place where they can get ten minutes of peace.  That doesn’t mean however, that your homes toilet needs to look like R2D2’s soul mate or a cast member from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dream Coat.

“Pick One: He’s never coming to your house again or, she knows she’ll never make it out alive.”

The Bottom line:

A toilet, and the bathroom it is housed in, should serve a simple purpose and be composed of four simple yet critical components.

  1. A functional, flushing toilet.
  2. A collection of clean surfaces.
  3. A door that locks.
  4. Some place to clean off your hands.
That’s it.  If you want ambiance, a simple rug, not a toilet rug, placed in front of the toilet and perhaps a tasteful candle on a shelf or window ledge should be sufficient.  In the toilet use the K.I.S.S. principle: Keep it Simple, Seriously.  Nobody wants to deal with Hello Kitty while they are barfing up last nights tequila bender.

 Clutter and Knickknacks are the Enemy

We don’t even know what the word “Knickknacks” means or if it’s really a word, but we know that having a bunch of junk lying around makes your room/garage/home look like a yard sale gone horribly wrong.

You might have the worlds most impressive collection of first edition kid’s meal toys, but that doesn’t mean you need to display them all, all the time. To you it might be great fun, but to the uninitiated house guest it’s a terrifying glimpse into your warped and sinister mind which they will henceforth summarize to friends and acquaintances as: Completely Fucked.


Storing your collections away and then occasionally putting particular pieces out is tasteful and interesting. It will livin’ up your room and start conversations when you have company, before the raping really gets going, but these displays shouldn’t dominate the space too much.

Just like “knickknacks” (whatever that means), general clutter and junk should not be left out. Put your hockey gear in the closet, those work files in the file cabinet and your clothes either into the dresser or the washing machine.

The bottom line:

Clutter taking up space is a good way to make your home feel small and cramped and it contributes to stress. Use tasteful storage concepts to keep things simple and stream lined. A clean home is a relaxing home.

Exposed wires look horrible

Where as a collection of vintage Pepsi cans, although insanely tacky, might be mistaken for a classy decor maneuver, computer cords and stereo wires all over the place have no facade to hide behind.  They look horrible.

Thanks, Technology.

“Technology, a spiteful little minx.”

These days cords are absolutely bloody everywhere. With the wave of “wireless” devices becoming more affordable and dependable we finally have some options, but who hasn’t walked into a friend’s room and literally grimaced when faced with the rat’s nest of cords, wires and antenna creeping behind their PC?
Take our word for it on this one if you’ve developed some sort of paranormal immunity to cord infestation; It’s not attractive and can conjure up all kinds of unpleasant images.


“Unpleasant” wink-wink.


The bottom line:

Get rid of the damn cords. You can tape them together, you can used zip cords, you can hide them behind furniture or put them in a decent looking basket or box. It’s called a disguise. Whatever you do, don’t leave them out to ensnare guests or molest your sensibilities. Wires and cords running all over quickly turn your home into another victim of the evil professor technology and his cronies.

Too much furniture

We all like nice furniture.  This sofa here is highly conducive to the writing of this article and that table there is doing a fabulous job of being a table.  Furniture is a good idea and if you’ve ever spent time with out it you might cherish it even more.  Sleeping on a cold floor is only fun for as long as your stuck in that third world prison.  Furniture.

The problem though is that sometimes we have this impulse to pack more furniture into a room than that room is actually capable of comfortably accommodating.  This is bad.  When you have to become a contortionist just to get across your living room, that is too much furniture and it really makes your house angry.  Nobody likes being bloated.

“Mommy! The house is hissing at me again!”

The bottom line:

Only purchase and place as much furniture as your home/room can comfortably accommodate.   There is nothing wrong with some open space.

Once again, Japan takes things too far.

Once again, Japan takes things too far.


Lighting and the proper employment of it is one of if not THE single most critical component within a room.  An open room with only one chair and a simple coffee table can look like designer fare with the correct lighting.  That same chair and table can also be made to resemble accommodations within a prison cell under ugly fluorescent lights.

Case in point.

Case in point.

It is important to identify the function of a room before making decisions regarding lighting.  Is this a relax space or an office?  The area you work in should be well-lit and conducive to concentration.  That black light was  the shit in tenth grade but it might not suit your office now.

Skype Meeting? Can we just, uh, conference call?

Skype Meeting? Can we just, uh, conference call?

The bottom line:

In a living room or den however, softer lighting with an emphasis on making things cozy and comfortable should be developed.  Particular lamps or fixtures in different parts of the room can direct attention where you want it to go and relatively simple hardware, such as a dimmer switch, can allow you a versatile means of changing the atmosphere in a room in seconds.  Dimmers are also great if you find yourself working, eating, sleeping and entertaining all in the same room.  Or if you agoraphobic.

People not Devices

One thing I learned from my mother: Never design a living room around the TV.

Or the center of a crack house.

Or a crack den. Did not learn this one from Mom.

This goes for more than your boob-tube.  Any kind of electronic device be it your computer, your smart phone, your tablet, you smart watch or your smart glasses, see here’s the thing, nothing and I mean nothing beats human connections. And that’s the point of a living room: face time with an actual organically breeding meat sack i.e. another person.

The bottom line:

A living room should be set up so people can interact with each other.  This is why people have an office, to do office shit in.  The living room is not an office so avoid allowing it to be dominated by an array or bright screens vampire sucking your life away.  The worst offender is still the television set however.  If you heed nothing else do so with this warning:  do NOT allow your living room to be set up to perfectly accommodate TV viewing. This is a cardinal sin.

Sometimes a TV dominated room opens hell's gates for all kinds of decor insanity including #8 on this list "Anything remotely like conventional Japanese living."

Sometimes a TV dominated room opens hell’s gates for all kinds of decor insanity including #8 on this list “Anything remotely like conventional Japanese living.”



If you like this, you might like:

Dom SexEc Groper Train Lots of Sex in Japan Ikebukuro love hotels
Dominatrix Interview Japans Sexual Economics Groper Train Lots of Sex in “Sexless” Japan Ikebukuro Love Hotel strip


You missed one: The douchebag gaijin who tries to start a conversation with every foreign person he sees.


 Eye Contact.
He’s 195 centimeters tall, if not taller, and he smiles broadly and lifts his arm to wave and I give a small nod of my head then look back down at my phone.  It’s a sunny morning and I feel congenial and the guy is fully on the other end of the train carriage so why not smile and nod.  I’m being so affable.  It must be the combination of cold meds mixed with the remnants of the few drinks from the night before.
A bad combination.
I only allow myself the bottle on Friday night and Saturday these days and I covet those allowances dearly.  That having been said despite only three or four drinks last night, today my head feels like I’ve been on Mescaline for a week.  It feels fried.  The edges of my consciousness are popping and then fading out.  Perhaps this explains my good mood.
Smash cut and suddenly, like in a horror movie, the ridiculously tall middle-aged black man with two weeks worth of salt and pepper beard is standing directly in front of me and is gesturing toward me.  He’s moved across the train carriage to talk to me.
I look up from my phone and smile.  I then remove my ear buds, and ignore all the people in the entire train who are now staring at us, and I say “What’s up?”
“I usually avoid big people.” He says.
“Is that right?” I’m still smiling.  The Japanese guy next to me on the train is clearly uncomfortable.
“Yeah, I usually avoid Big people. They intimidate me.”  He says, looking down at me.
I stare at him smiling for a moment.
“I’m just kidding. You American or Canadian?” He says smiling now.  I consider lying but don’t.
“I’m American.  You?”
His head twitches sharply to the side then back.  “I’m American. From New York City.” Right.
“I’m from upstate. Syracuse.”I say and then I notice he’s wearing a blue back pack.  I notice he’s holding a clip board with no papers on it and an old English text-book.
“Syracuse. They had such a good ball team.  (someones name I didn’t catch) was incredible.” He reminisces.
“Yeah? I don’t follow basketball at all.”  I’ve decided I am just talking to this guy.
“They just couldn’t ever pull it together. You know? They never were able to pull it together. Never able to win a big one.”  And then there’s silence. About thirty seconds.  He has a layer of black hair, almost fur, covering his ears.  His glasses are dirty.
I speak up.
“I was a wrestler.”
“Oh. Like…W…?”
“No, more like collegiate wrestling. Like Greco-roman.” I finally push my ear buds into my t-shirt.  This will continue.
“I went to watch one of those. My brothers friend was a wrestler. I didn’t get it. I mean I didn’t understand it.  It was hard to watch.”
He stares at me and I at him. I’m still smiling.  People on the train have decided he and I are friends and are just ignoring the two huge foreigners having a chat.
“Sure. It’s not the easiest sport to just walk in and watch.  Most of the people in the bleachers are either parents of wrestlers or former wrestlers themselves. It isn’t like basketball or something.”
“I’m not contesting the athleticism…”
“Sure. I know, I know. It just isn’t the most alluring of spectator sports.” I say this nodding. I understand him. I nod.
“…I just never liked it at all.”
Eye contact; he makes eye contact with me deliberately.
“Most foreigners here, I see ’em, I look right at ’em and they just…” He mimics looking away or looking down at a hand-held device.
“They just hide. They don’t speak.”
“Black or white. It doesn’t matter. I’ve been here 13 years and most of ’em just hide away.  They consider me a threat.”
His eyes are changing now.  What were fairly placid and dull have no become bright and are ogling, if that’s a word.
His eyes are ogling.
“They just look away and walk off like they can’t speak English or something.”
“Maybe they just, like, perhaps they have no time?  It probably isn’t personal they just have someplace to be.”  I shrug. I smile. I shrug and smile and he’s already shaking his head “no.”
They feel threatened.  See, back home in wherever they were nothing…” He emphasizes this by gesturing with the clipboard. “…nothing.  But here they are a big time guy.  They’re the teacher or the…guy.  Whatever.  See, everyone here has their own little territory. Like, their own kingdom, and if anyone tries to come into their area they freak out.  They get intimidated.”
This man is by no means the craziest person I have met on Tokyo public transit but he is the craziest today and I do the math, I realize that if he takes this much further this will be quite a scene.  His volume is rising.  We’re almost at my station.
“Well, I dunno man.  Something tells me it isn’t as uh, sinister, as all that.  I just think people are busy and shy.” Laugh a little. “Hazukashi, right?”  He stares at me hard for a moment as the train pulls into the station.
“So, how much do you bench press?” He then asks as we de-board.
“Ah man, that’s my weak lift. I’m more of a dead-lift guy.”
“Dead-lift…”  He doesn’t know what this is.
“OK man, well, it was good to meet you.” I extend my hand. He takes it and we shake hands.
“Yeah you too.  See you next time.” He says and waves to me with the clip board and text book.
Next time.




“You gotta shave that beard.  In Japan, a beard is the kiss of death.”  Grizzled-know-it-all teacher douche.

Yep and then I went on to find a better job and full-fill my dream of being a pro-athlete in this country, with all kinds of facial hair, and I think he was arrested for having an affair with a 14-year-old girl.  The lesson here? Beards work?  No, the lesson is that Douche bags can be found everywhere.  This is a list of some of the worst expat douche you can encounter in Tokyo.  Some go above and beyond eventually multi-leveling and combining two, three or even four of these classes into a Voltron-esque collage of failed dreams and bitter angst.  If you live in Tokyo, you know who they are…who you…are…

7.The Doucebag Recruiter

You know who you are and so do the rest of us because you never shut up about work and “the office.”

You’re also wearing a suit and tie at the HUB and are lavishly buying everyone a round, during happy hour, and keep texting your “guy with the coke”. You started in this “industry” too late; the bubble popped long ago and for the first year you actually LOST money while literally slaving away doing mind numbing grunt work for the promise of a big payoff someday soon.  A pay off which still has yet to come.

You regularly have “huge” nights in Ginza, spent entirely at 300 yen bars, and get so brutally intoxicated you can’t make it to any event that isn’t connected with work.

You’re finally making enough money to support your alcoholism and gambling issues but you’re slowly figuring out that if you take your foot off the gas for a split second this is all going to fall apart and you will have no money to support your fake Wish-I-was-in-Finance lifestyle you’ve locked yourself into. But the thing is you didn’t have the skills, education or experience for finance anyway, so here you are and forever trying to FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT. Problem is, you’re not enough of a sociopath to ever really make it anywhere with this.

This is not you. At all.

This is not you. At all.

But hey, anything to avoid teaching ENGLISH, right? Right???

6. The newbie Eikaiwa/ALT teacher Douche

Conbini beers and Karaoke!

Japan and I will love each other forever!

Japan and I will love each other forever!

The deterioration happens within months:

“It’s just so gratifying, working with the kids.”

“I just wish the Japanese teacher in the class was more supportive.”

“Jesus God, that one class is full of animals.”

Fuck these kids and their incompetent useless parents and the teachers can all burn in hell.”

You did it! You got to Japan and now you’re living the dream! Ninja on every corner! In fact you just signed your English teaching contract telling you one of two things, if you’re an Eikaiwa douche, you have learned that you have no Japanese holidays because “Hey, You aren’t Japanese.” And you have none of the holidays which you cherish and look forward to because “Hey, this is Japan, Fan-qui!” If, on the other hand you are an ALT, well good news! You get ALL the holidays, you just don’t get paid for any of them. Great deal. This will leave you plenty of time to be a part-time DJ (for free), work on your modeling career (good luck, fatty), finish your first novel (riiiiight) or simply frequent absolutely every 100yen bar in the city, nightly, till your liver implodes.

Not even Christmas?!

Not even Christmas?!

When you first got hired you spent the initial six months telling people who used to be you how magical it all was and then the last six months how much you loath everyone and that Tokyo is a horrific place.

You ended up in this category for one of two reasons: You showed up with no plan or the plan you showed up with failed. If you let it break you then you’ll either end up managing other suckers in this indentured servitude or you’ll just throw in the towel and leave. If you can drive through, you might find a life outside of ENGRISH or you might just someday become…

5. The Douchy miserable suburbanite

“Whoa, your rent is how much? I only pay 50,000 yen per month for a 10 bedroom, 20th floor condo in THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NO WHERE.”

God knows what you were thinking, because I do not. You were 28, employed, decent wage yet you decided to live deep in the forests of Saitama. You decided it was a better idea to live in bustling Ibaraki prefecture. You thought getting a big place with ocean views 3 hours outside Tokyo on the Izu peninsula would be magical. Then winter came.

But baby, you can stay over. Please! Please don't leave me alone!

But baby, you can stay over. Please! Please don’t leave me alone!

Let’s face it, if you want to live in Tokyo then LIVE IN TOKYO. That’s what you tell all your people back in Minnesota. That’s what you tell your boys back in Detroit. You tell everyone back in Smallville “Yeah bro, right in Tokyo. It’s crazzzzy.”

The thing is you don’t and you hate where you live. No girl you’ve ever met wants to take the last train to your place from Shibuya at 9:30 PM. Girls, rarely but it happens, ask where you live, you tell them and there is an empty pause and blank look and then she says “Where?” or “Oh yeah my Grandmother lives there.” Then she never sleeps with you.

“Bro can I crash at your place?” You have multiple variations on this one because you NEED to use it regularly if you are actually gonna drink all the way through happy hour.

Sober, you spend a hardy amount of time trying to convince everyone that wherever you live is actually “Really neat.” But after a few drinks you spend large segments of time, yours and ours, bitching openly about how much you hate it and how you haven’t had a guest over in two years.

Because JR line doesn't offer this service yet.

Because JR line doesn’t offer this service yet.

Eventually, years later you will move into Tokyo and then lament the fact that you spent your prime time single years sequestered on a mountain side someplace all in the name of saving a few thousand yen, which you used on the move anyway.

Welcome to the party. Just be sure you know when to leave…

4. The aging party guy/girl Douche

“Holy Fuck this is Awesome!”

But actually, no it isn’t because you’ve done this over and over for 25 years. It doesn’t matter how many Facebook albums with hundreds of pics of you smiling you post; again. It doesn’t matter how many IG vids of you lost and drunk in the middle of a concert on some island you post; again. It doesn’t matter how many times you pose with younger chicks at the same bars you have been going to for over a decade; again. None of it matters because you never got the memo.

You Sir/Ma’am, are getting OLD.

J-girls. I get older but they stay the same age.

J-girls. I get older but they stay the same age.

Maybe you’re 35 and, in that stream of Russian boyfriends, have yet to find your Prince Charming. Maybe you’re 45 and picking up random women and embarrassingly taking them to social gatherings at which they feel wildly uncomfortable is just making you look like a date-rapist. Maybe you’re 50, and living “the Single life” is where it’s at but suddenly you’re 62, living in a shoe box, alone, with nothing but a six-pack and a shit ton of HUB card points to keep you happy when you can’t spend all your money on travel in order to escape reality anymore. Some people are actually supposed to be alone forever, I know one or two, but if you’re reading this and it stings, you are not one of them. It might be time to settle the fuck down and go all in with someone.

45 year olds do not need to go to all night, all you can drink karaoke just to wake up in a pile of their own vomit Sunday morning on a side-walk in Shimokitazawa. The mature thing to do is to wake up on your living room floor, sans vomit, on Sunday and have breakfast with the family hiding your hang over with some Advil and a stiff screw driver because nobody can smell Vodka, right? Get with the program.

In the meantime…

Conbini beers and Karaoke! FOREVER!

3. The Douche who is always about to leave but never does

“I’m outta here. Yep. Just six months left and I am gone.”

And six months later yet here I still find you. Probably at Hobgoblin.

It’s a good plan and you’ve been perfecting it for decades; finally leave Japan and go on to what will surely be your perfect existence in wherever, doing whatever. It’s an incredible plan because you’ve been holding on to it, polishing it and telling everyone about it for myriad years.

The thing is, you’re never really leaving. It’s like the douche who is always talking about starting his own business and never does or the wanna be novelist who never writes a damn thing or the musician who never plays for anyone or the boxing gym warrior who never actually gets in the ring for a real fight.

“No bro, I just spar.”

It’s all douche bullshit and so is your tired old yarn about leaving. Just put your chips in and make a life here. You are ALREADY HERE ANYWAY.

Then again you could always actually leave Tokyo and enjoy grueling hours and shit pay painting farms in the Australian outback. So, there’s that. Shoot for the stars.



2. The Japanophile DOUCHE


Which is, so you know, wildly douche behavior.

You also go to Izakaya and immediately sit in seiza. You take Ikebana classes and tea ceremony classes and Japanese flute classes and taiko classes. You suck at all these activities. You own, at the minimum, one Japanese sword (and nunchakus) and you can talk about how it was made: The sword; the nunchakus you found in the garbage. You know 3 billion kanji. You know more Kanji than your Japanese girlfriend who is the most Japanese looking person the world has ever seen. She’s more Japanese than Yoko Ono.  She’s more Japanese than KFC at Christmas and dick festivals just because.

Yes, even more Japanese than this.

Yes, even more Japanese than this.

You know how to put on a Kimono. You know how to help women put on kimono. You like natto. You purchase natto.


For you Japan is never wrong and the Japanese are never at fault. None of US get it but YOU do. We would connect so much more if we read manga, watched Japanese TV, hung out (unwanted) in small bars near Golden Gai and did Judo for three months then quit. Essentially, nobody understands Japan like you do, not even the Japanese and you can prove this by talking about popular Japanese cartoons with six-year olds who don’t want to talk to you anyway.

You are the Japanophile DOUCHE and you are abhorred.

And finally…

1. The Irrational Hater Douche

Jesus, why can’t I buy peanut butter here?”

“Why the hell don’t these people just shake hands?”

“Fuck learning Japanese, I’m leaving soon anyway (refer to #3)”

“Japanese girls are all stuck up and fake.” Because they don’t like you.

Meet the bizzaro world doppelgänger for the aforementioned Japanophile: the foreigner who lives and works in Tokyo yet irrationally hates everything about the place and cannot wait to tell everyone, all the time.  Japanese train precision? “Hell no, my train was five minutes late!”  Japanese women don’t want to listen to your nonsensical uninformed rants about their culture? “Stuck up crazy bitches!”  Japanese music? “Shit.” But you can only name 3 bands and all of them are named SMAP. This is the irrational Hatred Douche bag and he/she tops our list.

Granted, your hatred is making more sense now.

Granted, your hatred is making more sense now.

Japanese Values? “Not mine so they don’t matter!” But tries to bullshit an answer anyway.

The Japanese put a lot of stock in how one looks out and about? “Stuck up materialistic assholes.”

Many of these particular douches are or were douches in other categories and have simply grown into this most coveted breed. Their own self-loathing, ignorance and inability to actualize their dreams/desires manifests itself in a ripe and often burning hatred for basically everything that doesn’t qualify or flatter them. In this case, the sprawling foreign city encompassing them and all it’s people.

“Why the fuck isn’t everything here exactly how it was in the country which I came from?!”

Honorable mentions:

  • The super douchey and overly judgmental blogger who has “Seen it all” in Tokyo, been a few of these already and trolls others from afar via his little known and highly under-rated website.
  • All foreign models

If this wasn’t good enough for you, try these:

Chong Dominatrix in Japan white hostess Groper Train Sato
Advancing Feminism via Porn Interview with a Japanese Dominatrix White woman Japanese sex Groper Train Search for the Black Pearl Interview with Adult Model: Erika Satou

GaijinAss School in a graveyard from the air
A couple of weeks ago I talked about the supposedly haunted former execution grounds in the South East of Tokyo. Around that area is another strange sight.

Anyone going to Haneda Airport on the Keikyu line will have seen, Jōnan Elementary School in Shinagawa-ku. Sandwiched in between the Tenmyokokuji and Jokoji Shrines, the school is surrounded on three sides by sprawling graveyards. It looks even more impressive from the elevated tracks of the Keikyu line.

These kids whenever they look outside their school see dead people … rows and rows of dead people.

GaijinAss School in a graveyard

Read more from GaijinAss by Checking out:

Jail Chong Marines okinawa Death Row
7 reasons not go to the clink in Japan 7 Books for Warriors Enlisting The American Occupation of Okinawa Death Row Survivor


And, just as suddenly, the party was over

Check out Tony Smyth’s website and other work ;

The combination of a surge in Japanese exports to all parts of the globe, a deliberate strategy of encouraging land prices to rise, combined with low property taxes and the concentration of all organs of government and headquarters of major companies within Tōkyō meant that, by fiscal 1987, the market value of land in Japan was 4.1 times greater than the total land area of the United States, a country twenty five times larger.


Banks lent lavishly to landowners in the belief that prices would always rise. Speculation in both land and stocks was pervasive, and with this speculation and the prospects of easy money came the jiyageya, half-businessmen, half-gangsters, who bought up adjacent small plots of land, then built apartments, which were sold at gigantic profit or lent to the rich at exorbitant rents. Even legitimate businessmen were not loath to use yakuza gangsters in their zeal to clear out homeowners or tenants who hindered the route to profiteering.

The Jimbōchō area is famous for bookstores. It was home to families that had lived there for generations, until the jiyageya began to force them out. Tactics included threats, incessant phone calls, daily visits to the owners of the desired piece of real estate, music played at high volume throughout the night, and sometimes arson or crashing trucks through walls and shop windows. Jiyageya also paid hundreds of millions of yen to induce tenants to sell out, for time was of the essence – the quicker an area could be “redeveloped”, the quicker a huge profit could be made.

In 1990, in the aforementioned Sanbanchō area, two tenants refused to budge from their home in a prefab apartment on the top of a three storey concrete building. The area of land was just 53 square meters. The standard formula used to calculate compensation led to a payment offer of $435,000 to move out of a tiny ramshackle rooftop dwelling that could only be approached by ladder… and the tenants refused!

Occasionally, there was stalwart resistance; in most cases residents succumbed, seduced by huge sums of cash, intimidated by pressure and the inordinate fear of the yakuza that pervades Japan. In these circumstances, the appearance of the centre of Tōkyō changed rapidly. During the 1980’s and early 90’s, in any direction, construction cranes could be seen silhouetting the skyline.
Prestigious buildings such as opera houses – for a people who knew little about opera – museums and art galleries were constructed in all of Japan’s cities and large towns. Throughout Japan, these attempted to exceed the finest in the West, though rarely with any deep understanding of the culture being emulated.


During the bubble, inhabitants of large Japanese cities could be divided into two categories; those who were in senior management positions, worked in lucrative areas of the economy or else owned their own business and, above all, owned land, and those unfortunates, the majority, who could never afford to become householders. Almost as wretched as the latter were those who had bought a house on the outskirts of the city and were forced to commute for three or more hours a day. Landowners, who had usually inherited from parents, could take longer holidays, had more spending money, and could think about purchasing a second house. Work colleagues on equivalent salaries would be in sharply contrasting situations if one had inherited land and the other had not.
Two-generation mortgages

Japanese who had saved diligently in hopes of becoming house owners saw their dream destroyed by the relentless rise in land prices. In 1989, the cost of a thin walled 60-square metre apartment was a stunning $498,000. 95% of the purchase price was for the land. Since the early 1970’s Japanese office workers have been allowed to take on a mortgage debt up to 12.9 times their annual income. European and American mortgages are rarely more than three times yearly salary. Between 1970 and 1984, incomes rose four fold, but mortgage debts increased 15 fold.

In many instances, the designer-clothes-clad Mercedes Benz owners were individuals who had abandoned hope of ever being able to purchase their own property, and so bought clothes and imported cars as compensation. Even those who did manage to purchase a house could often not pay off the mortgage within their lifetimes, and so mortgage payments are paid off over two generations.

The Matterhorn

During the bubble period, the government allowed a mass psychology to gain control of the market, an occurrence that was doubly dangerous because the Japanese tend to take actions as a group. Hitherto wise businessmen began to make aggressive and speculative purchases with a view to making quick profits, based upon a conviction that the price of land and the value of stocks would continue to rise indefinitely. Anyone who had the means and did not partake was thought extremely foolish. As long as the value of the stock market continued to rise, more money could be borrowed to purchase even more stocks, creating a multiplier effect. When the stock market lost 60% of its value in just 6 months, and then land prices plummeted, corporations and shareholders were left holding essentially empty assets.

If one image can summarize the entire 1980 to 2000 period it would be a graph illustrating the value of commercial land during that time. Imagine an elongated Matterhorn, its slopes rising steadily during the early 1980s, then steeply in the late 80s, until a pronounced peak in early1991. After this, a steep dive followed by a slow steady decline to the foothills of early 1980s prices. In 1989, the Nikkei Stock Index reached an all time high of 38,957. Contrast that with March 2009, post-Wall St crash, when the Nikkei briefly bottomed out at 7,055.


The crash

Though the Japanese stock market was grossly overvalued during the late 1980s, it was mainly the feeding frenzy of land speculation that caused massive bank debts when the bubble burst. The value of any piece of realty can only be what people are willing to pay for it. No matter how wealthy a nation has become, prices can only be leveraged up for so long. Businesses and wealthy individuals sometimes bought real estate without necessary collateral, on the assumption that it could be sold to some sucker at a higher price. Eventually, the hot potato could no longer be passed on. What remained were relatively worthless assets and the bill. Real estate values were allowed to underpin so much of the Japanese economy that any sharp fall created a vicious downward spiral that eventually forced further reductions in land prices. It was the sheer scale of this mass folly, together with government procrastination and unwillingness to make tough decisions in the aftermath, which caused Japan’s subsequent recession to be so severe and prolonged.

Capital investment

The post-bubble recession was made far worse by a massive capital-spending binge that continued well into the 90’s. Companies took advantage of the surging stock market to raise cheap, equity-linked debt and invest almost 20% of GDP. The principal reason for this was that the financial system and tax regime encouraged it. The result was that corporations squandered fortunes on automation and labour saving devices, built factories that ran far below capacity, and office blocks that contributed nothing to productivity. Huge projects planned in the 1980’s went ahead in the early 90’s because aborting them would have been exceedingly difficult; rather like the momentum of a giant oil tanker causing it to need fifteen miles of ocean to come to a halt. This capital outlay also continued because many could not believe that the dream was over.


When the bubble burst, banks were forced to expropriate Western masterpieces, bought at highly inflated prices, in lieu of unrepaid loans. Tens of thousands of paintings, including works by Picasso, Chagall, Matisse, Braque and Renoir, worth at least $3 billion on today’s market, were sequestered and stored in underground vaults.


During the 1980s, golf courses offered an opportunity for rich Japanese to display their wealth. As Japanese land prices were astronomical, averaging about $82 million per small 18-hole course, many clubs were built by borrowing money from future members. Prospective candidates were required to deposit between $49,200 and $820,000. Despite this, demand far outstripped supply: golf memberships were bought and sold like stocks, sometimes for outrageous sums of money. Prospective members’ deposits were used, not only to create the course, but also to invest in real estate and stocks.

The economic nosedive left some course developments incomplete, the club in receivership. When investors demanded a return of their deposits, the corporations owning the clubs were unable to pay. Some members had invested using borrowed money which they couldn’t repay, or used their savings, or even mortgaged their homes. During the 1990s it was estimated that $78 billion of refunds eventually came due, as increasing numbers of golf clubs went bankrupt.

The Jusen debacle

Because of the mass psychology of the bubble period, Japanese banks were persuaded to make loans to projects that in their hearts they knew were dangerous. Unwilling to have these risky loans on their books, with the aid of the government, the banks set up wholly or partially owned subsidiary finance companies called jusen, gave them unlimited credit, and then fobbed off any unsafe loans. This violated every principle of consolidated accountancy, but the banks’ books looked good and shareholders remained satisfied. As parent and subsidiary corporations kept different sets of records, the real financial situation remained unclear until years later, when the debt crisis became frighteningly severe.

Besides jusen affiliated with banks, there were also many independent ‘non-banks’, which lacked resources to cushion themselves in times of adversity. Many of the nōkyō agricultural credit cooperatives lent massively to jusen without any collateral, in the belief that they would never fail, since they were “subsidiaries” of the Finance Ministry. During the late 1980s, jusen were said to be relending 60% to 70% of the loans they received to speculators, to enable them to buy up real estate. When land prices went into a tailspin, the jusen began to fail, threatening to bring down the entire Japanese banking industry. The debacle cost the Japanese taxpayer US $5.68 trillion to help dispose of losses inherited in the process of liquidating seven failed jusen.

Construction companies had also extended huge loan guarantees to jusen on behalf of subsidiaries and property developers. With the collapse of numerous development schemes, 70% of such loan guarantees went sour, leading to a total debt of more than $410 billion for the industry as a whole. These delinquent debts threatened to have a devastating effect on Japan’s economy, affecting 10% of Japan’s workforce.

In the 1990’s, many of the Japanese government’s repeated attempts to resuscitate the economy, principally via massive investment in public works projects, which to the casual observer appeared inept and inordinately wasteful, were operations aimed at securing the rural vote that kept the LDP in power decade after decade. It was no coincidence that banks and construction companies were major donors to the LDP, and that nōkyō were a vital element in LDP electoral success. Decade-long recession or not, first priority goes to protection of rural fiefdoms.

And so, as the bubble collapsed in 1991, Japan entered a protracted 12 year recession, its so-called ‘lost decade’. At one point its banking system was very close to collapse. The unique circumstances that inspired ‘Japan as Number One’ have vanished. Post-March 2011 and Fukushima, the Bubble Era seems a distant mirage but, for that brief period, Japan’s economy seemed unstoppable. It was a lot of fun to have lived here while it lasted.


Check out more of Tony Smyth here



The years when Japan’s economy almost conquered the world

Check out Tony Smyth’s website and other work ;

Tokyo of the 1980s was far more inward and conservative than its 21st-century cousin. The LDP had been in power continuously since the 1950s. Emperor Hirohito was still on the throne, safely transmuted from pre-war God into the mild mannered marine biologist who occasionally turned up at the Kukugikan to watch sumo wresting.


Before the Shiodome and Daiba development, upper Tokyo Bay consisted of drab concrete warehouses. The only tall buildings were one each in Ikebukuro and Kasumigaseki and perhaps fifteen in Shinjuku. Ebisu was still quiet and suburban. Shibuya had only just begun to creep towards Daikanyama and Harajuku.


Business dress was very rigid – dark suits, short undyed hair, 70/30 hair parting, white or off-white shirts, black shoes. Workers did even more overtime than is now the case, and businessmen in their hundreds died of karoshi (overwork). Lifetime employment was the norm in large companies, and changing jobs during one’s lifetime was considered shameful. A job for life meant your job was your life. Fathers only saw children at weekends.


As there were fewer subway lines, trains were crowded up to 400% in rush-hour, with only overhead electric fans for air conditioning. Train windows were left open in summer, which meant subways were incredibly noisy as they screeched around bends. ( and you thought it was bad now. HAH!) Only the train signs of the Yamanote Line were written in English. You could get lost for hours in the underground labyrinths of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku. Pre-Lonely Planet, there were no guide books exclusively about Japan. None. I came to Japan armed with a book on Asia, which had just 15 pages devoted to Japan. Consequently, Tokyo of that time was a much harder city for an outsider to negotiate.

In the early 80s, foreigners were still a relative rarity in the city, so much so that some discos would allow gaijin to enter gratis, in the hope that their presence would show that the club was hip. “Irrashai – live gaijins on display” (OK they didn’t say that, but that more or less was the idea). If you went into the countryside, people dropped their shopping and stared slack jawed at the phenomenon. Japan measured itself against one country – America. In fact, if you were a white foreigner in Japan at that time you were automatically assumed to be American. “Yoa cun-to-rii – Ame-li-ka?? Numbaa wan, numbaa wan” etc


Foreign goods were taxed so highly that most foreigners would stock up on clothes and books during their annual home vacations. Coffee was served in delicate china cups and cost ¥400-500 for two or three sips. In those pre-internet days, gaijin were far more isolated from the outside world than is now the case. As the Cold War was at its height, a flight to Europe necessitated either flying over the North Pole via Alaska, or doing the 24-30 hour Southeast Asian route, before finally arriving exhausted and dishevelled in London. A phone call to parents or friends was kept short as it was so expensive.


There were no fat Japanese people to be seen because they DIDN’T EXIST. The first McDonalds opened in Ginza during the Bubble – the prediction was that it would never become popular in Japan. HAH! Now read on…….

1986 – 1991

The new prosperity was unprecedented: to a people used to deprivation, poverty and sacrifice, it seemed miraculous. From 1959, the economy expanded by an average rate of 9.2% annually for fifteen years, and in the following fifteen years by an average 4.2%. By the 1980s, Japan was clocking up enormous trade surpluses globally, yet managed to protect its own markets from outside competition by a combination of a fiendishly complicated multi-layered distribution system, high import tariffs, interlocking keiretsu business relations and mutual stock holdings which tied companies together and excluded outsiders, together with bid-rigging and other collusive practices. Other features of this mercantilist system were a high rate of savings among the general population, easy credit available to industry at very low interest rates, cosy relationships between politicians, bureaucrats and businessmen, and, not least, the payment of large, sometimes obscenely large, bribes to politicians for favours. The Japanese used more robots for manufacturing than any other industrialised nation, had adopted the Quality Control (Q.C.) system and perfected the ‘just in time’ method of delivering parts for assembly. Japanese employees also worked significantly longer hours per week than their Western counterparts.

Japan as number one

By the 1980s, the country had become an economic superpower. Eight of the ten largest banks in the world were Japanese. The Tōkyō Stock Exchange was roughly the same size as the NYSE. In 1987, Japan accounted for one third of the $150 billion U.S. trade deficit. As General Motors, Ford and Chrysler laid off thousands of workers and closed ageing plants, container ships disgorged shiny new Honda, Nissan and Toyotas onto docks along America’s West Coast. The Japanese domestic economy was 80% the size of that in the United States, despite half the population base, about one-fortieth the land size, and virtually no natural resources. By 1990, every single week, a billion dollars flowed from the United States to Japan. Ezra Vogel’s bestseller ‘Japan as Number One’ was published around this time. Foreigners studied books purporting to show the samurai way of doing business, to the amusement of many in Japan. A poll of 129 by Tōyō Keizai, an economics magazine, predicted that Japan would outstrip the United States in output of goods and services by the year 2010. When President Bush Sr. visited Japan, he appeared to be pleading for mercy for the ailing American car industry. Prime Minister Miyazawa responded by saying that Japan would show “compassion”. As Bush vomited and collapsed at a Tōkyō state banquet, video cameras showed the diminutive Miyazawa trying to push the U.S. president upright. It seemed an apt metaphor for the two countries’ relationship during this period.


Year by year, Japan’s trade surplus with the rest of the world continued to increase by phenomenal amounts. With the exception of Middle East oil producers, every trading partner incurred a large trade deficit. By 1990, Ōsaka City and the Kansai had an economy that ranked seventh in the world. By the following year, Tōkyō officials were boasting that their city’s GDP was also closing in on that of the U.K.


Mitsui & Co., a Japanese trading company with total revenues of $81.8 billion in 1986, displaced Royal Dutch Shell group as the biggest non-American corporation in the world. In 1989, the Nikkei Stock Index measured nearly 39,000 points. Tōkyō was headquarters to 94 of the 500 biggest non-American companies. Japan had more billionaires than the United States, though much of their wealth was based on the artificially high price of land. From the middle of the 1980’s, Japan had become the largest creditor nation in the world.


The Tsutsumi brothers

The world’s richest individual at this time was Yoshiaki Tsutsumi, one of two multi-billionaire brothers. By the late bubble period, the gruff and fiery Toshiaki owned 25 golf courses, 50 Prince Hotels – one of the world’s biggest hotel chains – and ski villages, leisure complexes, a professional baseball team and the Seibu Railway network, Japan’s largest landowner. At that time, his business empire was estimated to be worth $400 billion U.S. The elder, more cultured brother Seiji, poet and patron of the arts, owned the Saison Group, one of Japan’s most dynamic conglomerates, the 100-strong Intercontinental Hotel chain, museums of art, boutiques, avant-garde theatres, and a nationwide chain of chic and glamorous Seibu department stores. The brothers represented the pinnacle of a largely invisible pre-eminent elite, have strong imperial connections, and wealth so vast that they were estimated to own one sixth of the landmass of Japan.


Peak of the Bubble

The average Japanese had the highest income in the industrialised world by the end of 1987 – $23,022 a year. By 1990, senior managers were earning the equivalent of around U.S $60,000, plus twice yearly bonuses of between one and a half and three months additional salary.


At the height of the bubble economy, a million gallons of Beaujolais Nouveau would be flown to Narita Airport and quickly rushed to restaurants throughout Tōkyō so that, because of the nine hour time difference between Europe and Japan, it could be consumed before even the French had tasted the new wine. People happily paid $40 a bottle for this dubious privilege. After the decades-long infatuation with all things American, the bubble period saw a new inquisitiveness with respect to European fashion, food, art, music and culture in general. The bank accounts of Armani, Sonia Rykiel and Chanel swelled as Japanese snapped up their ware. Brown plastic Louis Vuitton handbags were almost de rigueur accessories for many years. It would be no exaggeration to say that, during the 1980s, almost every Japanese young woman carried one of these bags.


French restaurants could charge small fortunes for meals, simply because Gallic food was considered the epitome of sophisticated cuisine in trend-chasing Tōkyō. If you could persuade Japanese people that something was exclusive, sophisticated and fashionable, they were likely to pay exorbitant amounts for the privilege of sampling it. The best seats for concerts conducted by Herbert Von Karajan, for example, cost $574 each. When Miles Davis played at the opening of the Blue Note jazz club, punters paid $328 apiece.

Consumer confidence had never been higher, and this was reflected in changing tastes for expensive items, including imported cars. Tōkyō’s notoriously overpriced department stores made brisk sales throughout the 1980’s, in spite of the several hundred percent mark-up they charged. By 1991, Tōkyō had become by far the most expensive city in the world. 24 carat gold-flake filled soap became popular with women in their 40’s, though ten times more expensive than ordinary soap. Sales of male toiletries grew 30% annually. Pricey customised products sold well too: best-sellers included custom-made golf clubs, and personalised perfumes or wine, which had a minimum order of 200 bottles. Women’s tights, containing tiny capsules that emitted lavender, rose and other scents when heated by body warmth, sold in the millions.


Japan became the world’s leading purchaser of diamonds during this period, and indeed it still is. The chief of the jewellery section of the swank Mitsukoshi Department store said, “Several years ago you could buy a house for 50 to 60 million yen ($400,000 to $600,000). Now it costs up to 500 million yen. It tends to dull people’s sense of money. Nowadays customers come in asking to see diamonds of about 100 million yen”.

The bag man

One day during the bubble period, while travelling on the Yamanote Line, a middle aged man carrying a brown paper bag sat down beside me. He took out large wads of 10,000 yen notes from the bag and began to count them so, out of curiosity, I began to silently count along with him. By the time I had to get off the train, he had reached 900,000 yen and was still counting. The man was carrying at least $8,000 in cash, and thought nothing of counting it in full view of other passengers!


Prices in Ginza’s famed hostess clubs reached outrageous levels. One ex-patron of such clubs told me that he was once charged $246 for the ice for his whiskey. The charge for alcohol and the privilege of having a series of pretty young hostesses flirt and flatter for a few hours often ran into the hundreds of thousands of yen, usually paid on a very liberal company expense account. Prices at exclusive restaurants such as Kitchō, where prime ministers entertain their guests, or Fukudaya, where customers can dine in a wooden building 800 years old, were $578 per person for the basic course. They probably still are.

Costs compared to other countries

A survey conducted in 1988 revealed that rent in Tōkyō was double the levels in New York and Hamburg of that period. Another survey estimated that purchasing power of most Japanese remained at two thirds of their German and United States’ counterparts, and that quality of life was only 55% of Americans’. Infrastructure still suffered from decades of comparative neglect. In 1990, less than half of Japan’s households were connected to mains sewers (this mostly in the countryside). The family budget had to cope with light, heating, water expenses and postal charges twice as high as those in New York. Because of a multi-layered distribution system, even products manufactured in Japan cost more at home than abroad. Rice cost up to four times more, thanks in large part to a ban on imports and to generous subsidies that the LDP paid to farmers. California oranges costing 40 cents per pound in the U.S. could be priced at $4 dollars in a Japanese supermarket. And then there were the infamous muskmelons costing $40 to $50 each in high-class department stores.


Beginning around 1987, the international art market saw the sudden arrival of Japanese collectors and investors, a new breed of multimillionaires who had made huge profits from land and stock transactions. Many treated artworks as assets to be used as collateral for business deals, or else resold at a quick profit. Others bought art for the status it gave. The owner of a gallery in Tōkyō explained, “If you owned a big chunk of Tōkyō’s high class Akasaka district, you were a nobody, but if you bought an expensive painting at auction, you could become one of the most famous people in Japan”. Yasuda, a Japanese insurance company, spent $40 million for the Van Gogh painting “Sunflowers”, more than triple the previous record paid at an auction. By 1989, Japanese art purchases accounted for 43% of global sales, setting new auction records for paintings by Chagall, Van Gogh, de Kooning, Matisse, Klee, and Renoir. Tens of thousands of artworks were acquired over a three-year period.


In 1990, a Japanese businessman, the late Ryōei Sato, stunned the art world by paying more than $160 million for a Van Gogh and a Renoir. When asked about criticism that his profligacy would push up prices for other masterpieces, he said, “It depends on the time frame you are talking about, when cheap and expensive are discussed. I don’t think these prices are expensive”. When asked what he would do with a Rodin sculpture that he bought in the same week, he said, “It was only 650 million yen. That’s for my yard”.


In 1987, more than a million Japanese businessmen and tourists visited the islands of Hawaii. It became the “in” thing to purchase a second house on the islands. Japanese bought golf courses, farms, hotels, and seemed to have a bid on every major office building in Honolulu. A leading realtor estimated that purchases of residences in 1987 had exceeded $250 million and, “are now reaching price levels which are beyond the means of even the wealthiest local residents”. The TV program ‘Newsstation’ broadcast an interview with a Hawaiian woman who complained on camera, “this Japanese man just came up to me and said ‘I want to buy your house’. He offered one million dollars”. The woman refused and told him to go away. The following day, he returned and offered to pay two million dollars cash if she would move out within a short period. Indignantly she demanded, “Just who do these people think they are anyway?”


At the height of the bubble, a program titled Deta Mono Shobu was aired once a month. The object of this program was to search North American and European countries for properties that might be of interest to rich Japanese. In a typical program, a helicopter carrying a Japanese TV crew landed at a 15th century French castle. After greeting the owners, the cameras transmitted images from the chateau live, via satellite, to Japan. The owner was asked how much he wanted for the property, and to write the figure on a card which he sheepishly displayed to the camera. In this case a mere $U.S 1.9 million, which prompted cries of yasui from the excited studio audience. Soon, potential buyers for the chateau phoned in to make inquiries. Amazingly, the program was produced with the co-operation of the Japanese government, which was attempting to show that it was making efforts to reduce Japan’s prodigious trade surpluses. During yet another broadcast, viewers were astonished to learn that a 175 acre chateau in France cost only three times more than the average central Tōkyō apartment. Yasui.

The ocean of liquidity

After the 1985 Plaza Accord currency realignment, the Bank of Japan reduced the discount rate to an all time low, resulting in an abundance of capital, often referred to as the “ocean of liquidity”. Stock prices soared. Heavy industries began to be valued on the basis of the vast tracts of realty they possessed. Landowners were able to borrow astronomical sums of money by mortgaging, and could then build factories overseas, or go shopping for ‘cheap’ foreign properties. The value of land in urban Tōkyō had increased throughout the 1960’s and 70’s, rising steeply in the mid and late 1980’s. There was a 75% average increase in the price of land during 1987 alone – in certain areas it rose by 100%. The land of the Imperial Palace was valued at more than all of the real estate in California. By 1990, a single square metre of land in Sanbanchō, a small residential area of central Tōkyō, cost up to $98,400, by far the most expensive residential land in the world. The madness had almost reached its peak.

Part 2 will be coming soon.

Check out more of Tony Smyth here

gaijinassbannerThe 419 scam is old, like 18th century old, and has been responsible for a lot of laughs for me over the years.  We have all been exposed to this be it through a distraught Nigerian prince, a recently deceased distant relative you never knew, a well intentioned war profiteer searching for redemption or the good old winning of a lottery you didn’t know you had even been entered in.

419 is the numeric code referring to fraud in the Nigerian criminal system and although the majority of these scams come from the USA those from Nigeria have been such high comedy that the name has stuck.

This is what the actual (real) FBI website has to say about this Nigerian gem:

Nigerian letter frauds combine the threat of impersonation fraud with a variation of an advance fee scheme in which a letter mailed from Nigeria offers the recipient the “opportunity” to share in a percentage of millions of dollars that the author—a self-proclaimed government official—is trying to transfer illegally out of Nigeria. The recipient is encouraged to send information to the author, such as blank letterhead stationery, bank name and account numbers, and other identifying information using a fax number provided in the letter. Some of these letters have also been received via e-mail through the Internet. The scheme relies on convincing a willing victim, who has demonstrated a “propensity for larceny” by responding to the invitation, to send money to the author of the letter in Nigeria in several installments of increasing amounts for a variety of reasons.

Recently I received a new 419 letter and I am gitty like a school girl re-reading it.  Apparently the FBI, god bless them, have investigated something and determined that I, GAIJINASS, am to be paid 8 million dollars.


The only hurdle left is for me to send a mere 650 USD to facilitate the transfer.

But the actual (I think) FBI website says this about Advance Fee Scams:

An advance fee scheme occurs when the victim pays money to someone in anticipation of receiving something of greater value—such as a loan, contract, investment, or gift—and then receives little or nothing in return.

The variety of advance fee schemes is limited only by the imagination of the con artists who offer them. They may involve the sale of products or services, the offering of investments, lottery winnings, “found money,” or many other “opportunities.” Clever con artists will offer to find financing arrangements for their clients who pay a “finder’s fee” in advance. They require their clients to sign contracts in which they agree to pay the fee when they are introduced to the financing source. Victims often learn that they are ineligible for financing only after they have paid the “finder” according to the contract. Such agreements may be legal unless it can be shown that the “finder” never had the intention or the ability to provide financing for the victims.


But YOU told me to do it FBI!

So it’s goodbye peasants.  GJS is off to a new life filled with the finer things courtesy of the FBI.

In the meantime look for a new Po-cast this weekend and remember to keep a few hundred laying around to wire transfer to someone you have never met when luck finally comes your sad way.

If you like this, you might like:

Costplay SexEc Groper Train Empirial Walker hostess
Biggest Threats to English Teachers Japans Sexual Economics Groper Train Hypocrisy Cynicism Lies Shame She works hard for the money

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,501 other followers