You are President Jones. And as a president, when a natural disaster strikes you’re expected to do something about it. Generally that means fly over to where ever it happened and look at it while the news people film you looking at it. Of course that’s about as useful as your buddy looking at the new six inch long gash in your forehead and going, “Ow, that looks bad.”

Thus Operation Hot Tub was born and so there you are, sitting in your cabin in the Mile High Club, sipping Jack Daniels. Your Japanese language coach, code named Pai Mei, (Hell that actually might be his real name, you just don’t know) is schooling you on the finer points of Japanese night life. He is particularly annoyed that you are fixated on the idea of spending some quality time with a geisha. He insists you won’t and you insist on at least making an effort.

“Anata wa sushi no yona aji nodarou ka.” You say to him. Continue reading →