I was fine with all of this: this little town I've spent my entire life in has always been pockmarked with temporary lunatics, willing to empty the contents of their parent's and yet-to-be-born children's pockets into an economy of which I've, more often than not, been a direct beneficiary.
And then I got to the final paragraph:
'A 29-year-old man who works for a large investment management firm and was at Bagatelle’s brunch one recent Saturday and at Merkato 55’s the next, put it another way: “If you’d asked me in October, I’d say it’d be a different situation, and I don’t think I’d be here. Then the government gave us $10 billion.” '
... seriously.
Talk about inviting down upon the heads of the entire Executard class, the rage of a populace that hasn't been this pissed, more bloodthirsty, or better armed, since 18th Century France.
All that was missing was a clue-free comment allowing for the consumption of baked goods.
... and yet....
Opportunity is standing at our door here, simpering about The Good News.
Do we all want some government bailout money? The owners' of these afternoon delight speakeasys seem to have a direct line to it, without any of the catches or restrictions. It seems like wrenching bailout money out of the hands of these brunch clubkids with 10,000% markup on cheap goods and services is absolutely child's-play. No direct government accountability, or guilt over taking candy from the destitute either. Just a license to print money, just like nightlife in the '80.
Clearly, the answer (as, let's face it, it always has been) is to stop trying to provide real value to the useless financialeaches bloated with money that they could never have earned in several lifetimes of actual work, and just convince them that there's rich ermine drapery to be admired instead of pure hot air.
Sell cheap champagne for 500 bucks. The right to be the only ones in the room for thousands. The company of our sparkling wit and stunning good looks for millions. They have no concept of absolute value, only a relative sense of self-doubt.
If we all can't make good money off of that (Madison Avenue having done it to us all for a hundred years), then we're just part of the problem ourselves.
For almost the whole article I was rolling my eyes at these people who think money = joy and drinking/partying = happiness. I was shaking my head at how people are looking at the economic crisis and thinking that blowing thousands on a brunch was a good way to get away from it.
And then... and then I got to the end. I started to get pissed with that guy who said that he made enough in the last 5 years that it didn't matter. Please tell that to the people you screwed over by being short-sighted and giving bad advice who are now losing their homes and jobs.
But that guy at the end? I call seconds on punching him!
3 comments:
I was fine with all of this: this little town I've spent my entire life in has always been pockmarked with temporary lunatics, willing to empty the contents of their parent's and yet-to-be-born children's pockets into an economy of which I've, more often than not, been a direct beneficiary.
And then I got to the final paragraph:
'A 29-year-old man who works for a large investment management firm and was at Bagatelle’s brunch one recent Saturday and at Merkato 55’s the next, put it another way: “If you’d asked me in October, I’d say it’d be a different situation, and I don’t think I’d be here. Then the government gave us $10 billion.” '
... seriously.
Talk about inviting down upon the heads of the entire Executard class, the rage of a populace that hasn't been this pissed, more bloodthirsty, or better armed, since 18th Century France.
All that was missing was a clue-free comment allowing for the consumption of baked goods.
... and yet....
Opportunity is standing at our door here, simpering about The Good News.
Do we all want some government bailout money? The owners' of these afternoon delight speakeasys seem to have a direct line to it, without any of the catches or restrictions. It seems like wrenching bailout money out of the hands of these brunch clubkids with 10,000% markup on cheap goods and services is absolutely child's-play. No direct government accountability, or guilt over taking candy from the destitute either. Just a license to print money, just like nightlife in the '80.
Clearly, the answer (as, let's face it, it always has been) is to stop trying to provide real value to the useless financialeaches bloated with money that they could never have earned in several lifetimes of actual work, and just convince them that there's rich ermine drapery to be admired instead of pure hot air.
Sell cheap champagne for 500 bucks. The right to be the only ones in the room for thousands. The company of our sparkling wit and stunning good looks for millions. They have no concept of absolute value, only a relative sense of self-doubt.
If we all can't make good money off of that (Madison Avenue having done it to us all for a hundred years), then we're just part of the problem ourselves.
No punching required.
I'd comment but my head just exploded all over the screen.
Oh. My. G__!
For almost the whole article I was rolling my eyes at these people who think money = joy and drinking/partying = happiness. I was shaking my head at how people are looking at the economic crisis and thinking that blowing thousands on a brunch was a good way to get away from it.
And then... and then I got to the end. I started to get pissed with that guy who said that he made enough in the last 5 years that it didn't matter. Please tell that to the people you screwed over by being short-sighted and giving bad advice who are now losing their homes and jobs.
But that guy at the end? I call seconds on punching him!
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