We’ll know we live in a just society if someone goes to jail for this:
During MF Global’s last chaotic days, the brokerage firm overdrew an account at JPMorgan, according to another person who is close to the matter. Some investigators now believe the firm used customer funds to patch at least some of the hole, which would have been a significant breach of federal law.
This is a story on the discovery of one-third of the missing customer funds at MF Global, which you might recall amounted to $600 million. So this is $200 million, “found” at JPMorgan.
Who should go to jail? Let’s start at the top, with Jon Corzine, and yes, pals of mine, he is a Democrat. Noted. Democrat Democrat Democrat. Then let’s work our way down. When five or six of these clowns are wearing jumpsuits, including at least one member of the board of directors, I’ll be happy. However, I believe true justice in this matter will be like finding a film violent enough to warrant an NC-17 rating. It can’t be done.
You know what kills me about these stories? How these alleged financial geniuses essentially run their firm’s finances the way your average paycheck-to-paycheck working slob does — moves a little here to there, borrows from mom, has markers out throughout the network. It’ll all be OK in a few more days, when that check arrives.
Who woke up with the grumps this morning? I guess that would be me. Last night the second of our three laptop power cords fell into the sure-go-ahead-and-use-this-BURN-YOUR-HOUSE-DOWN range, so there’s another $77 expense in December. In the interest of noting that this development represents a serious shortcoming in my own constituency, I will acknowledge that power cords are the Achilles heel of Apple products — at least the laptops — and even veer into the realm of serious suckage. I’ve never had one last the life of the computer. They all break at the end that connects to the unit.
And it rained all damn night, hard, continues to rain, and will likely do so for another couple of hours. It’s a perfect day to stay in bed, but it’s a Tuesday, and so: Extra coffee.
What other free-floating irritants are there on my radar today? How about Ohio State’s new football coach, the $4 million man? Four million. A year. Please, the next time one of these entitled douchingtons is caught covering up for a boy-buggerer, let’s spare the world our shock and dismay. Of course it won’t be Urban Meyer, because he is a “devout Catholic,” I learn via the always authoritative Wikipedia. But it’ll be someone else, and at least we’ll know why it happened. Money talks. It just doesn’t always say what you want it to.
Anything else? I can only laugh about Herman Cain, which is what I’ve been doing from the beginning. Ginger White has a moll’s name, doesn’t she, although “Roxy” or “Tootie” might be even more fitting. She said Herman made her feel special and took her out of her “humdrum life” by flying her around to conferences to meet him as his paramour. Will this affect his stock on the Fox News exchange? Doubtful. Might even bump it a little. Shows he can play with the big boys.
Oh, and you journos won’t want to miss this from Craig Newmark, of the eponymous list, complaining that he can’t trust the news anymore. I am reminded of a line from Brian Krakow, my favorite character from “My So-Called Life,” who once observed, “How much more ironic can you get without, like, puking?” That’s unfair, of course — newspapers were felled by their own stupid management, which Newmark only nudged along. But if I can just say this: The link within this note, about how to improve “fact checking” in the media, promises coverage of an event held by Jeff Jarvis (red flag!) on the topic, featuring “a bunch of players in this arena (playing) well together.” The link leads to something on Storify, which is another 21st-century new-media nightmare, a startup that creates “stories” out of social-media postings, i.e. tweets and Facebook status updates, I gather. Just looking at it made me summon my inner Hank, and bellow I AM STICKING TO MY WAYS, and if you want me to read a story about your fooking event, take the fooking time to craft a coherent narrative of the fooking thing, because otherwise, I’m gone.
But that’s just me. YMMV, as we say on the internet.
OK, it’s getting late and it continues to rain. The coffee is fully engaged and I’m actually feeling pretty good, for a Tuesday. Don’t mind the bitching. I’m off to grade papers!