Some years ago, a joke circulated with the opening line:
You know it's going to be a bad day at the office when...followed by a list of funny scenarios, such as Mike Wallace and his Sixty Minutes crew showing up at your door. (OldSouth is indeed, not young...).
So, Timmy: You know it's going to be a bad day at the office when...the Atlantic Magazine, that bastion of East-Coast-Old-Boy-WeAllWentToHarvardBrownOrYale-Liberal-Thought decides that your scurvy ass is a liability, and you are to be voted off the island!
Turns out that no one, and I mean not one member in this club, is amused by the news that you used the AIG rescue as a means of bailing out your bankster buddies while chair of the New York Fed.
Timmy, your mistake was that you over-reached. As long as the scams were relatively small, private, and no one in the club got hurt, it was ok. I mean, those poor schlubs in Flyover Country can be fleeced at will with blow-up mortgages and credit card scams. They vote Republican, if they vote at all, so they don't matter. But this mess lowered the net worth of the membership, not to mention the endowments of the Ivy League schools, where they donate heavily to reserve spots for their under-achieving fourth-generation legacy offspring.
You messed with the wrong people's money, and you are definitely off the invitation list, Timmy.
It is now only a matter of time, and the timing of the announcement. Timmy's toast, he just hasn't left the building yet.
Better get that book deal in place while you can, Mr. Secretary, assuming any New York publisher will return your calls.
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