Yeah, man. Robert Kelly ain't gonna be no Bank of America chief executive, man. He's staying at BNY Mellon as chief executive. He's gonna burn there for many years yet. That's what he wants to do. And that's what I want him to do. Big Herb and Ganesh the elephant god are completely supportive. Even the ghosts of the dead financiers approve. We all want Mr Kelly to stay at BNY Mellon. Mr Kelly wants to stay! You fucking understand that, BofA?! HE WANTS TO STAY! He ain't going nowhere.
Well, I have been speaking to Bobby about those goddamn BofA motherfuckers trying to tear him away from his spiritual home, and this is what the crazy cat told me: 'Mikey, don't these dumb fucks ever take no for an answer, eh? And didn't they want you to be their global wealth chief last year? (Yeah, Bobby. They're a bunch of fucking nutjobs. I told them to piss off. Bunch of fucking freaks.) Yeah. It's not as if the loons know anything about mystical capitalism anyway. What they got, three or four shamans, tops? If they've got five I'll be amazed. And they want me to work for them? Get the fuck outta here! Am I right? (How many financial shamans you got at BNY Mellon?) I'll be honest with you, Mike, not as many as we would like. We're starting small, man. Slowly building our mystical operation. But when the New Depression is over - BAM! We'll be there, burning it up like you won't believe. (Where, Bobby?) Come on, Mike. (Where, Bobby? Please. You know I love it when chief execs talk shit.) Mikey, we'll be THERE! On the astral plane! 24/7! Burning, burning, burning, with Bobby Diamond. The other Bobby. Bobby Hashemi as well. You dig me, baby?'
Stupid question. Of course I dig.