“I’m not going to be here next week” is how Mr. Geeai greeted me on a delightfully cool morning last week, “so your readers are going to have to live without me. You can come and hang out, but you have to bring your own coffee.”
“Is this the annual Geeai family campout?’
“Indeed it is”, he replied. “Chris is coming up from California and we are all going to hang for a week. So you and your readers have to live without me next week.”
“That’s OK. I’ll take notes”
“So what new has happened this week?”
“The jerk who is making hundreds of millions by throwing people out of their houses? Yes, I remember him.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
And then Mr. Geeai did something that really surprised me. With all of the emotion of a great white shark coming in for a kill he said, “Ok, that’s a knee cap buddy”. And then he formed his fingers into the shape of a pistol and unloaded on my kneecap. “Bang” he said, and looked at me with dead eyes, “That’s just for naming your boat what you did. It shows who you are and that’s worth a kneecap without any other consideration. Oh, I’m sorry, is that painful ? Good. Now, let’s talk about what your real punishment is going to be.”
It didn’t surprise me that he blew away the kneecap so much as the totally uncaring, nonchalant attitude he took towards the action. It was as if he were telling one of his tenants they were responsible for a late payment. Totally emotionless, you’re a mark in a book. ‘Oh, it says here I blow your kneecap off. *bang* Scratch that one, what’s next on the list?’ That’s not like him. I know him as a man of great compassion but all of that was gone as he thought of dealing with the ones responsible for ripping off the whole country for their personal aggrandizement.
There is a seething anger in this country and them that are responsible best take heed. If Mr. Geeai can seriously consider blowing off a kneecap … and then consider what might be appropriate punishment … then there is real trouble brewing. Mr. Geeai is as laid back as they come.
There was a MERS story this past week from www.wallstreetoasis.com. Wall Street Oasis bills themselves as a place where “monkeys” (their terms, not mine) from investment banks, hedge funds and private equity firms can come to relax, trade barbs & quips, rant, and generally find an outlet for the frustrations built from breathing the rarified air of corporate finance.
In order to comment on any of their blogs, you have to be a member and in order to become a member, you have to fill out an exhaustive series of questions such as, where did you go to school? Where did you get your MBA? What was your GPA? I was reminded of standing in the little boy’s room in grammer school competing with all of the other boys to see who could step the furthest away from the urinal and still arc a flow into the bowl. Doug Jones was the best at two steps away from the back wall, his closest competition was four but then Doug was the best athlete on the playground so we weren’t surprised. We were awed. Qualifications to become a member of Wall Street Oasis are just as meaningless as arcing a flow into the urinal if you ask me. I suppose some people are in awe just like I was with Doug Jones but I’ve grown up a bit since then. I digress.
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