Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

Smackdown: Mr. MBS battles Mr. QE2

Doctor Derivative looked good in the blue and silver spandex leotard he did, this son of New York, this brash, brawling, battling banker. He bowed a bit to the crowd, blew a kiss to a loved one, flexed first one bicep then the other. Jamie Dimon took the measure of his opponent.

The Bearded Bernanke, his green suit with "In God We Trust" stenciled across his chest, his buffed and ripped, botoxed, HGHed pecs struggling against the fabric.

"You," said the Doctor, reaching deep down, below his money belt to bring forth a voice trembling with passion. "You! You......regulator!"

The crowd, ensconced comfortably in the plush chairs if the Atlanta Fed's intensive care unit in its recovery and recuperation wing, came to life.

"Tell him, Jamie! Tell him for all of us!"

"Better yet," came a shout, "Hit him where it hurts!"

The Doctor stared at the Bearded One, wizard of the special purpose vehicle, the Humvee of the Open Ended currency swap.

"And do you have a fear, like I do, that when we look back... these regulations, these capital requirements will be a reason that it took so long that our banks, our credit, our business, and most importantly, job creation started going again?"

The crowd applauded. Men in suits fist bumped.

The Bearded One stammered something about quantitative analysis and regression and....

The crowd knew that The Doctor spoke for all of them, and spoke for more than just all of them in this place, in this time. The Doctor spoke on behalf of all of them not even born yet. The Doctor spoke on behalf of his own yet-to-be-born grandchildren; on behalf of all of their yet-to-be-born grandchildren, who besides having a right to life from the moment that sperm dives head first into that egg, wiggles its ears, and ditches its tail, had the right to grow up to be investment bankers, financial planners, hedge-fund managers; had the right to wear suits without socks; had the right to summer in the Hamptons, live in Greenwich.

"Do you think," continued Doctor Derivative, "and do you fear as I do when I look ahead, that my grandchildren, our grandchildren, the grandchildren of Bears and Stearns, of brothers Lehman"-- the Doctor crossed himself-- "may they rest in peace," will never know the joy of taking home a 25 million dollar bonus for stripping the assets out of an overdeveloped industrial conglomerate? Do you not fear, or do you just not think of the deprivation inflicted on our grandchildren if they can no longer sell junk to our municipal governments and their pension plans? Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, as I do, trembling at the prospects of our grandchildren growing up not knowing the meaning of the word....arbitrage?"

The crowd roared its approval. "Break his bearded pin-head," shouted Richard Fuld.

"I ask you, sir. Where is your patriotism, your gratitude to we brave investment bankers who have given new meaning, new currency, to those words inscribed on the Statue of Liberty, by giving this great country, and more than just this country, new and future generations of poor, of huddled masses; turning whole communities, nay, entire cities into wretched refuse; who sent you millions of new homeless, with millions more to come, tempest tossed and underwater, as we turned out the lights and kicked them out the door?"

As the Doctor spoke, tears formed in his eyes. "Have you no gratitude, sir? Have you no decency? Have you no appreciation for those of us who make America a dream coming true for those of us doing what we do best: separating fools from their money like the SS separated people from the gold fillings in their teeth?"

The Doctor nodded in the direction of his tag-team partner, Dangerous Deutsche Bank.

"I ask you, one more time sir. What about the jobs we create in this noble endeavor? Do you expect our grandchildren to actually work.

Suddenly, from the back of the room an usher strode toward the ring, her heels clacking on the parquet floor.

"Hey asshole," she said addressing the Doctor directly and buy his given name, "How many fucking jobs did you destroy between 2008 and 2010 with your leveraged bullshit?"

June 8, 2011

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