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Millions of Cash Recovered in Japanese Tsunami Returned

  • August 22, 2011 2:29 am

Here’s another example of how Japan is awesome. According to ABC Australian News, Japanese Police have been able to return the bulk of the $78 Million USD that was recovered in the wake of the March Tsunami. Most of the cash was discovered in wallets and safes. With safes, they numbered 5,700 that were found in the wreckage.  One safe alone had $1 Million in cash! Most of the recovered cash was found by volunteers and then turned into Police.

Now you may ask, why so much cash? First off, the Japanese tend to store cash in their homes. It’s part of the culture. But in the Miyagi region, where the tsunami hit the hardest, many fisheries dealt with high amounts of cash, via transactions and even employee salaries.  Read more...

an unexpected financial butt slap

  • March 1, 2010 5:54 am

My AC/Heater unit just croaked.  You know, that big, square, metal block that hides on the side of your house, thanklessly working to make sure you’re not too hot, not too cold, but just right?  Well, my aluminum friend just upped and died on me.  Fucker.  OK, it wasn’t his fault.  He’s been diligently working since 1989 (I bought my place in 2003).  21 years of flawless performance from a HVAC unit is impressive.  It’s the equivalent of a human being living to 210 years old and forced to run an olympic marathon naked every single day from birth.  He was a good machine that far outlived his time.  His performance was gold medal worthy.  BUT the bill for replacement felt far worse than Mao Asada’s loss to Yu-Na Kim.  Far worse than my most recent rejection by Michelle Kwan (btw, I’m still available for casual or formal love making session, Michelle).  It was an unexpected, financial butt slap of epic proportions…

$2,250? FML...

Total cost to replace?  $2,250.  And I had to pay cash.  Why?  Cause that’s how my HVAC dude rolls.  Not a check, not a cash card, but with cold, hard, green paper.  Paying my guy felt more like a Miami Vice drug deal than a home renovation project.  I felt domestically dangerous in a way that only Sonny Crockett could understand.  Now if I didn’t have a history with my HVAC dude, I’d think he was aiming to jack me of my bling, knock me out with ether, throw me in the back of his van, and sell me off to a rich cougar in the Hollywood Hills who would keep me locked up in her basement demanding a vigorous, geriatric pump at least twice a day (hmmm… kinda sounds like the life of my HVAC).  Read more...