Sunday, 18 April 2010

Lloyd Blankfein wants me to destroy the SEC

I've got enough on my plate with those FSA slags. But he phoned me late last night -

'Mikey, I want you on the first plane out to New York. (Lloyd, hasn't anyone told you about the volcano?) I don't give a shit about no fucking volcano. Those Icelandic cocksuckers! What a time to blow up a volcano! (They didn't blow it up, Lloyd.) Listen. I need you here. I'll arrange something. Private jet. (It ain't happening. I ain't got a death wish. I could come over in my astral body though.) Well, do that then. I've got a serious problem, Mike. Only the world's foremost financial shaman can deal with it. They're trying to fuck me out of my job. Can you believe this? (The SEC?) Yes, the fucking SEC! The media! Everyone! (It will blow over, Lloyd. There's no need to worry.) That's easy for you to say. Living in your fairy world. The man who dreamed of Faeryland! It's beyond a joke. (That's W.B. Yeats. I don't have no truck with fairies.) I live in the real world, yeah? You know the real world, Mike? Where people have jobs and have to work and earn a living, and then some assholes come along and say: You're a crook, you cheated us, we want our money back. But I haven't even got the money, Mike. Goldman lost $90 million on this ABACUS c**ting CDO! Paulson's the one with all the fucking money! I'm sitting in the shit. (So what do you want me to do?) You come over here. Anyway you can. Riding a fucking pegasus - what do I care? But you get here. And then you start earning your money. I ain't paying you to float around with Bobby D. And he's a fucking fairy, if ever there was one. I want results! (Yeah. So what do you want me to do?!) I want you to DESTROY the SEC. (You want me to destroy the SEC?!) I want you to DESTROY the SEC. We've got to think big now. It's time to take massive action. Like that guy walking over hot coals. (What guy?) The freak with all the teeth. (Oh, you mean Tony Robbins.) Yeah, Robbins. And we should hit a few journalists. (Hit a few journalists?!) Yes. In fact, tomorrow, you can take care of that in London before you leave. Just zip over to One Southwark Bridge and give them hell. (On a Sunday? I'm not sure how many will be there on a Sunday.) Good point. They'll all be at Speaker's Corner, standing on their fucking soapboxes. (Oh, this is really heavy stuff. Isn't this a job for Viniar? And I won't harm Gillian. I love her, Lloyd.) Don't pussy out on me, Michael. I need you.'

Well, it's Sunday, and I'm still in London. I like Lloyd. Sure, he's a trifle unbalanced, but he's a good man. But I think I will have to stop taking the Goldman dollar.