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By craazyman, long time Naked Capitalism reader, peanut gallery commenter, Yves Smith fanboy, and Profeser of Contemporary Analysis at the University of Magonia
You can unpack yer bags ‘cause we’re not going on a guilt trip. I’m way too lazy for that. And I won’t grovel like a sycophant fawning over Yves’ triumphant greatness like she’s some financial Joan of Arc earth mother. Put a finger down my throat and make me vomit! She lives on Park Avenue, has a consulting business, gets interviewed on TV, and flies around the world to meetings and conferences. Does that sound like an earth mother to you? Besides, she hates suck-ups. She even told me that once to my face! And Lambert, he lives in a state called “Vacationland” and his job is being a landlord. Well dig that ditch! If you’re anything like me, people like them should be sending their extra money to people like us.
But I know a good deal when I see one. And NC probably saves me $15,000 per year in psychiatric bills because it tolerates my nonsense in the peanut gallery, and all you boneheads, including a lot of you Post authors, crack me up. That’s why I give a few hundred bucks a year, just to save $14,000. And If I can make money like that, why shouldn’t you? In fact, I’ve got a plan to raise $5 million dollars for NC ‘cause that might impress Yves and maybe she won’t ignore me or call me a suck up again. That hurts when you’re a fanboy. I almost cried.
I’ll deal with yuz one by one, and show you how you make money here like I do.
First, all you crazy women in the peanut gallery. God you crack me up. The way you wander lost in your hormonally imbalanced hysterical word fog, agonizing daily about melting polar ice caps, species extinction, economic collapse and complete global destruction. Are you completely crazy or do you just make this stuff up? What if you didn’t have the peanut gallery and had to show your comments to your husband instead, printing them out and shoving them into his face at breakfast?
“Here. Do you want to read what I wrote about Dodd-Frank, global warming, President Obama’s healthcare plan and a picture of a cute kitten?”
“That’s very well put,” he says from behind the newspaper.
“You haven’t read it!”
“Leave it on the table. I’ll try to read it later.”
Forget it. He married you ’cause you’re hot. If he wants deep thoughts he’ll go for a walk in the woods or read the Encyclopedia Britannica. You know it’s hopeless so you crumple up your screed, find a sofa and start crying into your palms at the cruelty of everything. But you don’t have to worry about that ’cause you’ve got the peanut gallery here. They not only read your nonsense, they write back and tell you how right you are! How much is that worth? I’d say, easily, $100 three times per year. Just like me, you could spend $15,000 on psychiatric counseling and medication alone. Either that or $300. That’s a 50-bagger in one year and you’re making money the first month!
And all you dudes who yack it up all day like men playing checkers in a park in Queens. What else would you be doing? Fishing? With your broad-brimmed Madras hat and white tube socks pulled to your knees, the blinding light on the water so bright it burns your vision to kaliediscopic black, colors that don’t exist in reality surging behind your sweat-closed eyes while you wonder pointlessly about life, love, being, time and eternity. Well faaaak that. Here you swagger your erudition like a long swinging Johnson full of testosterone. Overwrought women swoon and young men mind-stare gape-jawed at your potency. What’s that worth? I’d say at least $100 bucks a few times per year. What do you pay for stock tips by the way? Do the math while you’re fishing the Big River with the flies buzzing around your eyes, your line limp on the water, your face sweating the impossible sun.
And you, banksters, multi-million-dollar-a-year lever pullers working the Fed-supported-and-state-socialized-finanz-capital-toll-booth. You’d think you’d be the last boneheads on earth to send in some of your “hard earned” — bowaaha-haha-ahahahhahaha -sorry-I-can’t-stop-laughing — poker chips to Naked Capitalism, one of the few places that knows how little you really do and how to kick your sorry asses to Hoboken. Well think about this with your feet on your desk, nose in the air and head up your ass. When you’re dead you’ll have one chance, facing the Big Kahuna with your knees shaking and heels hanging over a cliff ledge 100 miles deep with flames flicking your butt waiting to roast you like an ant. When the Kahuna asks, “Why shouldn’t I give you one poke in the chest and send you on your way?” what is there to say? Everything you did in finance was to profit from someone else’s loss, and if you can create the loss, all the better. Except that time you and the guys got together and said “Just for a joke, let’s send some money to Yves Smith in case we ever need the karma, like a hedge.” Well, the bet works when an angel with a clipboard says, “Ummm, says here he did give money to Naked Capitalism once.” And the Big Kahuna says “Really? Well hell, step your sorry ass over there and have a seat.” What’s that worth? For guys like you, I’d say at least $50,000 each. That’s like me buying a $1 scratch-off lottery ticket. You might still get the push but you’ll have 3 minutes to make your case.
And you, economists, indoctrinated children of an immaculate deception, locked in your brain jail, BA, MA, PhD, the bars get higher, the window smaller and the darkness blacker with each year. All your equations and your equilibriums, your Newtonian money metaphors of particles and velocities spinning like the flailing arms of a psychotic galaxy into a knot of illucidity and tendentious incoherence so tangled you might as well cut it right out of the line and start from scratch. You might be conscious enough to recognize this situation as your “ultraviolet catastrophe” and have the dim intuition an intellectual revolution patiently awaits your halting speculations. You might not swallow Zimbabwean, ummm, I mean Modern Monetary Theory but at least there’s something there to jolt your somnambulence. And you’ll find it here often enough. By the way, how much did you have to pay Princeton, or Chicago or the “Mental Institute for Technocrats” for your 3-year drive through cranial car wash? 15 or 20 or 30 grand? Per year? How many of you even know what money is? I doubt there’s one. So fork over $100 bucks a few times a year for new horizons of revelation you can’t even imagine. And just drop out if you still can. You’ll have $29,000 left over for beer money and penny stocks.
And you, D.C. politicians and bureaucrats. You’d probly still think banks give away toasters if it wasn’t for Naked Capitalism and the stories it broke about the smoke and MERS non-mortgage backed securities, how synthetic CDOs (I’m still trying to figure those out) were worse the Lehman, on robosigning and the Bank of America whisteblower scoop. Think about it. One thin blonde alone in a New York apartment with two cats, a telephone and internet connection did more to ferret out financial fraud and mayhem for five straight years than the U.S. Department of Justice, Securities and Exchange Commission, Office of the Comptroller of the Currency and Federal Reserve combined. And youze guys in Washington are the ones in charge of Ahmurrica?
I know in my soul I couldn’t have done in 1 million years any of what Yves Smith and NC did. No way. First, I’m too lazy. Second, I’m too ignorant. And third, I wouldn’t know who to call or what to ask. I’d just stare at the phone ‘till I got so tired I’d go back to drinking red wine surfing Youtube for Adele songs (I’m her fanboy too, faaaaak she’s awesome). That would take about 5 minutes. I guess that’s what the Justice Department and the rest of yuze did too, except you porn surfers at the SEC. So put on your flag pin, recite the pledge of allegiance and bundle $5,000 up from small donations. You can expense it on your books for “patriotic consulting services rendered.” You’ve already made the profit on it.
And then there’s the “other” category — always useful when preparing financial statements! I’ll put $500,000 there. This is, for example, when the Institute for Nonsensical Economic Theorizing realizes its grants have done nothing but create stupendously irrelevant confusion and incomprehensible equations, and it tosses NC some cash like a Hail Mary into the End Zone, trying to put points on the board any way it can.
When I do some math in my head and add all this up I get roughly $5 million, which seems reasonable for a quick fundraiser. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it comes in over $10 million. Money is just an idea. Have yuz figured that out yet? And once an idea starts to move, it goes places you can’t imagine. That’s why you need to send in your money, because you can’t imagine it and neither can I. But they can. And they’ll keep making it real for you if you let them. It’s just good business. And you won’t be sucking up to anybody.