Sunday, February 01, 2009

Hang the Judge. Hang the District Attorney. Then String 'Em All Up, Every Last One.

I know, it's wrong, and I'm against such intemperate outbursts, and besides, from a practical standpoint there simply aren't enough lamp posts. But then this:

A man who said he robbed a downtown Shreveport bank because he was out of a job and hungry has been sentenced to 15 years in prison for first-degree robbery.

Roy Brown, 54, of Audrey Lane, admitted walking up to a teller with one of his hands under his jacket and telling her it was a "stickup." The teller handed the man three stacks of bills and he took a single $100 bill, told her he was homeless and left, police said. Brown surrendered to police the next day, telling them his mother didn't raise him that way. Police let him sober up and interviewed him two days later. Police said Brown told them he needed money to stay in a downtown detox center, had nowhere to stay and was hungry.

And you put it up against this, in which Wall Street's criminal greedheads award themselves $18.4 billion in bonuses for 2008, the sixth-biggest bonus haul in history, in the very year that they wrecked the global economy, and got billions of tax dollars in public bailouts for their trouble, well, I'm speechless.

So, I will blame Will for leaving me so dyspeptic of a fine Sunday morning, and try to calm down by reflecting on the fact that we're relatively lucky here in Canada, having managed to dodge the worst of the capitalism's global crisis, leaving me, like most Canadians, unable to get too worked up either way about last week's federal budget, even.

News of the death of Sean Greenfield didn't help my mood. So, I'm speechless. But these lads aren't, so I'll let them do the talking (best at full volume, especially if you read this at work):


Blogger Kurt Langmann said...

Cole Porter said it best:
Why the gods above me, who must be in the know,
think so little of me they allow you you to go,
when you're near me there's such an air of spring about it,
I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it
there's no love song finer
but how strange the change from major to minor
every time we say goodbye...

7:52 PM  
Blogger Kurt Langmann said...

And Annie sings it:

7:54 PM  
Blogger IceClass said...

Follow the judge!

10:00 AM  

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