Saturday, November 12, 2011

The Talking Heads

To paraphrase David Byrne: "This isn't the Mudd Club, nor is it CBGB's. And even if it were, we don't have time for that now."

No, my friends, this is not CBGB's. It's CNBC... The Crystal Cathedral of Capitalism. The steed upon which the Rational Market (a fictional character) rides into battle, much the way the King of the Nazgul (also a fictional character) once rode forth from the gates of Mordor.

I had a lovely time. They picked me up from my hotel in Manhattan in a Cadillac, which I thought was an upgrade from the usual Lincoln Towncar, and carried me out to the studio in Englewood Cliffs, maybe. Everybody was awfully pleasant. Did my thing. Left.

Later that night, I got an email from somebody representing Russell Simmons, the rap empresario.


Here's the piece:

God almighty, I have got to lay off the Nacho Cheese Doritos and onion dip. Look at my stomach!

I don't know if I mentioned it earlier, but Corzine was painted over a whited-out Ken Lewis. Check this video out--it's a classic:

Everybody at CNBC was lovely. I saw Jim Cramer, but he didn't see me. When he first hove into view I had a moment of panic. "What if he comes over and tries to kick my ass?" I wondered. Then, stomach or no, I decided I could take him, so the discomfort passed.

On the way from CNBC back to Penn Station I realized that I was hurtling down the Palisades Parkway in a black Chevrolet Suburban with a picture of Jon Corzine in the back. It started to feel very meta, whatever that means. But when I buckled my seatbelt the discomfort passed.


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