That’s the New York Times headline I’m staring at right now, as I sit here in the Philadelphia airport at 6:35 am on a cool morning. I’m tired, beat up, frustrated—and fascinated by the nation’s economic woes. First, what does it mean for me, the average schlub who invests a little, tries to wisely hold on to his money, doesn’t take too many risks? Second, after eight years of inanity, can “Reassurances by Bush” mean anything to anybody? I mean, really. Democrats, Republicans, Independents—would any of us place our economic fate in this boob’s, eh, man’s hands? Third, what about the cocky Wall Street a-holes I often see on the train to NYC, barking loudly into the cell phones, walking with that unmistakable strut, bragging about front-row seats to Knicks-Cavs, taking clients to Per Se, working 700 hours per week in order to afford that BMW convertible. You know the one—silver, with the killer stereo. Yeah, that one.
Frankly, I’m tired of hearing about the government bailing out big companies in need. How about bailing out small companies in need? How about those small agencies that help the homeless; the addicted; the wayward? The programs that, thanks to ceaseless tax cuts, no longer receive the federal funding they need?
And finally—will the women on Headline News PLEASE shut the hell up. Please. It’s now 6:41, and I don’t need to hear their incessant yapping about Blackberries and the Hootie dude’s new country album.
Oh, and my book comes out today, too. Yeah, that.
