Easy Street, here I comes...

The Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? I was fortunate to receive a very timely e-mail today from the finance minister of a for-obvious-reasons-unnamed country regarding a certain 20 million smackeroos, seven or so of which have my name all over it. Worry not, my friends, as soon as the check clears, I will share my windfall with all of you.

Dr. Mansu Mukhtar is quoted below:

The FGN account has been debited in your favor to the tune of 7million USD, and you are advised to contact me immediately.

I like it when sums of money are referred to lyrically. It feels right. "To the tune of seven million"...

Of course, credibility and integrity are key when dealing in the high stakes world of inter-country finance, and you cannot trust just anyone. So you can imagine how my mind was put at ease when Dr. Mukhtar wrote:

We shall not tolerate those lackadaisical attitudes exhibited by some Beneficiary under my predecessor and we have eliminated some of those unscrupulous charges invented by some Officials

Truth be told, I would have rather the Minister eliminated all of those unscrupulous charges, but I'm quite sure he did the best he could.

The key to dealing with any government bureaucracy is knowing "the code". For example, if you receive a call from the IRS about last year's tax returns, simply say to the agent "Jack Ruby" and the matter will be dropped. If you're in Bangkok and are detained on suspicion of what we all know you were doing there in the first place, confidently and in plain English, utter the phrase "Hong Kong Phooey" and you'll soon be on your flight home.

The country of -redacted- is no different and the good Doctor made sure to include "the code" so there would be no confusion.

Please quote the Code: Blue Diamond on your correspondence for Pass Identification. Congratulations in advance.
Yours truly, Dr. Mansur Mukhtar
Honorable Minister Federal Ministry Of Finance

I certainly will quote the code when I speak with Dr. Mukhtar. Perhaps when he and I are finished with the business of him giving me money for no apparent reason, we could become friends. We may meet somewhere, say Switzerland, for expensive dinners and champagne. He, of course, will have left his wife at home and be accompanied by a cheap hooker he thinks is classy. The other diners will stare at us, wondering "who is that odd pairing?" We'll have a laugh before he retires to his room and strangles the poor hooker.

But I am getting ahead of myself. First things first. I have to dig up some details, bank account numbers and so forth to get this thing moving along.