Jump, you fuckers

Of course the biggest horseshit of the week was the rush to document how the rich are suffering with Wall Street collapsing. We got the inevitable comfort food drivel, the inescapable quotes from bankers reduced to drinking beer, the unfailing rush to check in with sweet old Harry. Not just my old employer was guilty, but it all reminded me of the heyday of Krazy Rhymes-With-Lunt, when section editors were ordered to produce instant reaction pieces to some blip. Life is complicated; disaster takes time. But that doesn’t fill newspaper columns.