I’ve finally written the poem on our economic malaise. I’d been thinking about this for weeks but what finally put it together for me was the fact that the FT published the names of the guilty men on Saturday- these were the guys that came up with the hocus pocus that broke the banks and everyone else. I’ve also been immersing myself in the early 19th century and the role of rapacious financiers was as much a concern then as it is now.
So, I’ve written some polemic which hopefully distills the problem into something more manageable. I’ve also resisted the temptation to prescribe a socialist/anarchist solution because that would require prose and I can do that elsewhere.
Demchack and Masters
It’s okay, I’ve found them.
The first guys, the flimmers and the flammers
Who first wrapped things up
They’re called Demchack and Masters
Worked for JP Morgan
And they cleaned up big time.
Then there’s Joe, Joe Cassano over at AIG,
He took on the risk (which was too small to count)
and took the cash.
Then there were CDOs and SIVs and leverage
And A sold a piece to B
And B paid with money from C
Who was laying this off with D
But that’s okay cos it’s all triple rated.
Then the black folks wanted a house
But they were dirt poor
But nobody cared or seemed to notice
And gave them the money anyway.
During all of this jubilation
Nobody mentioned, perhaps they forgot
That the free market isn’t actually free.
Nobody said, least of all me,
That there’s always a price to pay.
So now the black folks have nowhere to live,
The banks are broken and the currency’s fucked
And we don’t make things any more.
Sixty grown men chasing one job
All because we forgot
All because the sun was shining
And frankly we didn’t care.