I Think I've Said This Before

Ho-Fucking-Hum.

Let me tell you, Dearest and Most Patient Readers, that notwithstanding my admirable innate modesty, unstudied intellectual humility, and staggeringly handsome physical appearance, it is beyond boring to be proved right time and time again as often as I have been. Even if I were a lesser man—prone to having my head turned by the adulation and adoration of the admiring masses, which I am most certainly not—I might begin to find the repeated ruminations of slower and lesser minds than my own on subjects which I have definitively and decisively disposed of now and forever somewhat enervating and—dare I say it?—even dispiriting.

Even today we find Andrew Ross Sorkin, of the Liberal East Coast Establishment's Business and Finance Digest of Record, DealBook, revisiting well-trod ground. He worries at length, and finds the fact that government regulators of the financial sector of our economy and their supposed regulatees not only share bodily fluids and intimacies not to be named in a family newspaper with each other on frequent occasion but also, mirabile dictu, share paychecks and other commonalities normally associated with working for each other's organizations on a regular, rotational, and, dare we say it, even predictable basis to be of a disturbing and even alarming nature.

And I say: No fucking shit.

But I also say: What about it? Where would you propose we find adequately qualified people to staff the regulatory bodies of our fair if somewhat befuddled commonwealth?

Where do you think we will find people who: a) know what the fuck they are talking about; b) know how the fuck to talk to/yell at/kick in the gonads the assholes they need to talk to/yell at/kick without worrying whether they can make the current lease payment on their late-model Subaru in suburban New Jersey if said regulatee makes a stink up the lobbyist/Capitol Hill staffer/Congress(wo)man food chain about said regulator's "disrespectful" behavior; and c) can tell Lloyd Blankfein or his current equivalent on Wall Street to take a flying fuck in a rolling donut if he doesn't like the tone, content, or approach of said regulator's interactions with his overpriced legal flunkies on items of regulatory interest and concern?

The Legal Aid Society of NYU Law School? The Public Defender's office? Puh-fucking-leeze.

In order to properly regulate the Masters of the Universe (aka Big Swinging Dicks) of the financial sector, you simply must have a stable of ill-mannered, hyperintelligent, nail-eating, blood-spitting, old-lady-tripping, extremely bad-tempered mutated sea bass ex-investment bankers and private sector lawyers who can go toe-to-toe with these self-protecting, self-"regulating", self-pleasuring assholes on their own terms. I'm sorry, but the well-meaning corporate lawyers and career civil servants who currently staff the SEC and like regulators simply are not up to the task of telling Jamie Dimon and his General Counsel to go fuck a goat in the information hall of Grand Central Station if he doesn't like the settlement terms/discussion/cup of coffee they are offering. Give me 25 ex-bankers like me, and 10 ex-flesh-eating Wall Street lawyers like Economics of Contempt, and I will not only have Jamie Dimon and Lloyd Blankfein eating like kittens out of my horny, calloused hands, but I will also have them delivering flowers to your Great Aunt Petunia in Astoria on a weekly fucking basis.

It'll cost you. And it'll rattle the cages of bureaucratic precedent and protocol, but is that really such a bad thing? Nowadays?

It's just not that hard.

* * *

Go read this, right fucking now. Write a goddamn book report, and deliver me a nice, crisp memo on the topic in the morning.

Do I have to do everything for you people?

Related reading:
Poachers Turned Gamekeepers (March 16, 2010)


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