Would you show up at a funeral laughing?
If your neighbor's house burned down, would you show up the next day with a Bundt cake? Or let's say another neighbor just lost his job. Would you brag about getting a big promotion and to rub it in, tell him you're buying a Maserati?
All crazy, I know, but no more crazy than Wall Street executives about to enjoy record bonuses this year -- despite an awful year last year.
Apparently these bonuses were set a long time ago, apparently long before simple human decency or simple common sense.
Before folks realized it might look bad to spend more than a million bucks decorating your office, when tens of thousands are being thrown out of theirs.
Or plunk down $1,400 on a trashcan, as scores more stand to be canned.
Or half a million bucks for a weekend massage retreat after your company's been rescued by taxpayers.
Or $50 million on a corporate jet as taxpayers dole out tens of billions to keep you afloat, never mind the damn jet.
It's like asking those taxpayers for billions more to close a deal. Just like Bank of America did to buy Merrill Lynch. Or sneak in tens of millions in bonuses before that deal. Just like John Thain did at Merrill Lynch.
And they wonder why we're shocked.
I'm shocked they wonder.
Tin soldiers with tin ears and tin values.
The more I hear of this stuff, the more I've come to conclude, for these mighty corporate asses, it's just about the stuff.
The things. The toys. The planes. The trashcans.
The total indifference to the folks they screwed. The perfect willingness to screw them again.
They flaunt their Ivy League educations and pedigree roots as if to say, we have no worry.
You'd think they'd take one peek in the mirror and conclude something else: We have no soul.
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