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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m Dr. House, your screwed-up financial advisor, here to rant about—whore? Wait, what? Did ya mean *Warren* Buffett or some Wall Street sleaze? Screw it, I’ll assume “whore” is some typo-riddled mess for *hoarding cash*. Everybody lies, right? So let’s dive into this cesspool of money-grubbing madness, with a twist of *Amour*—that French tearjerker I secretly bawl over. “You’re suffering,” Haneke’d say, watching me dissect this crap.

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Now a year-old single mother, Beniko, as she calls herself, recently published a book on red-light districts around Japan. She took the photographs herself. As she says, she had her .

Finally, I get it working. I’m in the zone, right? But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “Hey, can you come to the Okayama International Center?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m in a meeting!” But he’s all, “It’s urgent.” So, I grab my stuff and dash out.

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