Temple of Doom

Hello, dear and faithful reader. Wow, can you believe that a little over two years have passed since I last wrote to you. Good Lord, where has the time gone and look at what it has wrought. One or two things of note have happened over the past couple of years...yuk yuk. I must tell you, dear Reader, that my world has tumbled and crumbled around me. I now know how Sampson felt when he brought the temple down, for I too once thought that I was mighty and strong. I was riding high back at the end of 2007, so high that I neglected to write to you. You see, I had just accepted a job offer from Bear Stearns. What better place for an aggressive, hustling stock dick like me than BS? (And yes, some envious jerks try to be cute and say that BS stands for Bull Shit). But gamblers and swashbucklers ruled at BS and you know how I like to dress up in pirate costumes. The move was definitely an up one from the firm where I once used to roost, BSBR Capital. (And yes, some envious jerks try to be cute and say that BSBR stands for Bucket Shop Boiler Room). But three months later and that Greek, butt fucker Jamie Dimon scarfs Bear Stearns down like he would a Gyro, with $60 billion worth of tzaziki sauce from the Fed.


And so there I was, out of a job, back on the street. But I picked myself up and dusted off my Armani pinstripe suite because that's the way I roll. After pounding the phones and reshaping some of the lies on my resume, I stuck gold and landed a job at Lehman in the high net worth group, otherwise know as the Lollipop Guild because the clientele consists mainly of suckers. Truth be told, more than luck got me the job, as I had to call the chits on a Lehman muckety-muck whom I used to supply with his weekly fix of coke back in the days of Palladium and Tunnel (now I'm aging myself). I don't need to tell you what happened next: The Fed started freaking out about something called "moral hazard," something which I thought you found only on a golf course, and decided to toss Lehman overboard like a ton of stinking pig shit. And so there I was once again, flat on my ass, back to to square one. To add insult to injury, Kimmy, my live-in bitch, decided that she'd had enough of this in-and-of-work bullshit and left me to go back to pole dancing. Just as I was about to give up this whole schlock stock broker thing and send my resume to the Post Office, a pal of mine gave me a tip: Madoff Securities was looking for a few good shysters. I was so stoked when I did finally get a job offer from Madoff because Bernie Madoff was the Man. Bernie the Mensch as he was known in every Jewish country club across the world.


The rest is history, as they say. And so is my career. Yes, the temple that was once Wall Street has come tumbling down. And just like Samson, we pulled it down ourselves, with motives much less credit worthy than his. But nowadays, is anything credit worthy?