I manipulated subprime mortgage regulations, raked in billions and plunged the country into a devastating recession. People lost everything. Some even committed suicide. Nothing happened to me. I received a twenty million dollar salary to run a company into bankruptcy and then gave myself a five million dollar bonus out of taxpayer bailout money. Thousands lost jobs, 401Ks and pensions. Communities were ruined. Me? I skated. Literally! I took my kids to St. Moritz and went skating.
God Bless America. Where else could a guy like me do what I do right out in open for everyone to see, collect millions and get two tax free Lear Jets as a reward? I use to wake up and think - this is it. There’s no way I can keep getting away with this. Then the phone rings. Uh-oh. Is it the SEC? Is it the FBI?
Nope. It’s a guy named Zuckerman and he needs fast cash. He just got married and he’s worried. If his wife should ever divorce him he’d be left with barely enough to finance sixty-three lifetimes! He considered selling off a few acres of Farmville but then decided on the IPO. He put out a contract and wanted me to handle the hit.
The Facebook IPO was the Wall Street equivalent of Hurricane Katrina. A Cat 5 on the Goldman Sachs scale. People should’ve known, with guys like me and my boys at the helm, big trouble was on the horizon for those who could least afford it. How many times do you have to read about us to get it? Would you invite Charlie Manson to your barbecue because you heard he was a real ‘family’ sort of guy? As always we were able to convince everyone Hurricane Facebook was actually a big, beautiful rainbow with massive pots of gold sitting at both ends upon which all hopes and dreams could be pinned! At less than $30 a share it was like getting a mortgage on a $350,000 home on just a $35,000 a year salary. You’d have to be crazy to miss out on something like that, right?
Me and the boys gathered our Wall Street FEMA Team (our lawyers, PR guys and PAC) to prepare for the post-Facebook IPO repercussions. We made sure to not do anything illegal, whatever that means. We carefully prepared both sets of facts. One set for the big, rich clients we need for lifestyle maintenance purposes and another set for schmucks like you, who we need for lifestyle enhancement purposes.
We stockpiled as much Dom Perignon, Beluga caviar and jet fuel as possible and hunkered down to weather the initial hit. As expected, everyone with the exception of Mr. Zuckerberg and the rich investors who knew the true facts got mad at us (again). That was the extent of it. Our reputation took a shot but so what? Our reputation has taken more shots thanand in Bonnie & Clyde but the phone keeps on ringing with calls from the Zuckerbergs of the world.
You claim the playing field on Wall Street isn’t level? Big shock! What do you think we’re running here, a casino? Our Main Street decks of cards are marked and the dice are loaded. The best part of it is, after me and the boys are done reducing your hopes to ashes, your dreams into nightmares and murdering any chance you might have had for a decent retirement absolutely nothing is going to happen to us. Why? Because we’re the new American Hit Men and when we ruin lives we always make it look like an accident.