Ricky Ricardo Reports On The Latest News From MF Global

LOOOOCY! Dih' Munney! It vaporized itself!

Ai Caramaba, Looocy!  Wha' happun?!?!

Or in more staid English, the opening paragraph of the Wall Street Journal coverage this morning:


Nearly three months after MF Global Holdings Ltd. collapsed, officials hunting for an estimated $1.2 billion in missing customer money increasingly believe that much of it might never be recovered, according to people familiar with the investigation.

As the sprawling probe that includes regulators, criminal and congressional investigators, and court-appointed trustees grinds on, the findings so far suggest that a "significant amount" of the money could have "vaporized" as a result of chaotic trading at MF Global during the week before the company's Oct. 31 bankruptcy filing, said a person close to the investigation.

Many officials now believe certain employees ...
 

At this point, the WSJ invites one to subscribe in order to read it all. But really, why bother?

It's just as informative, and much more entertaining, to bring Desi Arnaz back from the grave and let him do his Ricky routine, in which the more frustrated he became, the more his English deteriorated.

 

In a society ruled by law, Jon Corzine would have already been placed under arrest, publicly arraigned,  forced to cough up his passport, and detained to one of his Manhattan addresses, always within reach of the prosecutors. He'd be allowed access to enough money to live and pay his lawyers, but otherwise no-touchy-the-assets in all those far-flung places, as the account holders who were robbed of their funds may have need of them in recovery. Ditto for the entire top two tiers of management of the firm. Ain't nobody goin' nowhere 'til we sort this mess out, know-whudd-I-mean?

He'd also not go unchallenged when he tells the world, 'Gollee-Gee, Beaver! I don't have any idea where all that money vaporized to!'

Every so often, OS flips through channels on the way to basketball games, and sees snippets of documentaries on street gangs. They are scary people, covered in tattoos, wielding guns, loyal only to their own tribe, completely disinterested in the fortunes and lives destroyed around them. Fearless. Ruthless. Nihilistic. Many have bought off or scared off any semblance of law enforcement. They rule the street, and aren't shy about letting the world know.

Please inform OS, someone, how these people differ from the upper tiers of our political and banking worlds? Except, perhaps, for the tattoos?

I asked Ricky. He just shrugged his shoulders and slunk back to the 1950's, grateful to be gone, and told me not to call him again. He's got his bridge game scheduled with Fred and Ethel, and doesn't wish to be disturbed.