Black Tie Ballin'
Mother. Funk that crisis. Please...
I figure after the mild bounce back in markets over the past week and the opportunity for many a monkey to exhale for a bit, it may not be a bad idea to go back to masturbatory fantasies about why you got into the industry in the first place. Certainly, throwing parties like Appollo head Leon Black is a good example of such aspirations.
No. You don't really have a passion for finance. No. You don't really give a rat's ass about proper valuation and bringing efficiency and liquidity to markets. No. You really are not in it for anything at all...besides this. Though you may choose to go with a different A-list crooner than Elton John, the principle is the same...foie gras stations, Howard Stern talking trash, Martha Stewart baking cookies and Mike Bloomberg selling you on another dozen terminals. Life doesn't get any better.
This is the real exit op. This is why you are legally blind in one eye from glaring at Excel.
This is why you don't give a shit about Main Street, this is why you will grow your bank roll until you are the pimp of political prostitutes. This is why Leon Black's baby is called Apollo and not fucking Demeter.
This is why everybody hates you and blames you for their ills. This is why you keep your head down and keep on pushing. This is why thirty years from now the hipster fucking your girlfriend while you slave away at bringing your VP coffee, will be making hateful comments about your Illuminati connections on the back pages of Yahoo Finance.
Stay hungry my friends...the foie gras awaits.