It was the week before Christmas
And there was joy on Wall Street
The earnings forecasts
Had all been beat
Profits were up
Payrolls were down
Blackberries were ringing that joyous sound
The smell of money
Was in the air
Bonus time would soon be there.
At the George Soros Hedge Fund, the traders waited expectantly for Soros to come down to the trading floor and distribute their bonus checks.
Trader 1: Oboy oboy, I can’t wait. My mouth is watering!
Trader 2: Well, don’t slobber all over my suit. I just got it out of the cleaners.
Trader 1: You don’t know what this means to me. I had to give up my place in the Hamptons.
Trader 2: You don’t know what suffering is. My wife walked out on me. Of course, now she heard that I am getting back on my feet, so she wants to patch things up.
Trader 1: You gonna do it?
Trader 2: Hell no! I got my eye on a younger model.
This exchange was heard by Tiny Tim Geithner, the little crippled office boy, who happened to be pushing his broom down the aisle.
Tiny Tim: You guys shouldn’t be so focused on materialism. Remember, Christmas is the time to express joy to the world and charity to your fellow man.
Trader 1: Why don’t you shut the fuck up, you gimp! Is that what they taught you at Wharton?
Trader 2: Don’t pick on him. Can’t you see he’s a freakin retard? Hey, Geithner, how’s your stimulus doing?
The Traders: Ha ha ha ha ha!
Tiny Tim: If it wasn’t for the stimulus you guys might have had to go out and do some real work. Most of it ended up right in your pockets.
Trader 1: Where else should it go? To some freakin solar panels? If you want to make money, you have to spend money.
Trader 2: And nobody spends money better than we do!
The Traders: Ha ha ha ha ha!
Trader 1: Quiet now! Here comes the boss with our bonus checks.
[Enter George Soros, bearing a thick bundle of envelopes]
Soros: H, fellows, ladies. Before I start, I’d like to thank you for all your hard work work this year. The fund had a landmark year. Earnings are up 35%, and we are anticipating an even better year next year. [distributes the envelopes]
Trader 1: Hey, boss, there must be some mistake. There’s no check in here!
Trader 2: Yeah, it’s just a freakin UNICEF Christmas card!
Soros: That’s right. In the spirit of the season, I have decided to contribute the firm’s bonuses to the UNICEF fund for disadvantaged third world children, so that they can have clean water and food. That’s our Christmas present to the underdeveloped world. You folks are making a good living, so I figured that you would be happy to contribute to ending world misery.
Trader 1: Are you crazy? I was counting on that money!
Trader 2: Yeah, how do you expect me to live on a measly 250 grand?
The Traders: We need cash! We need cash!
Trader 1: Please sir, may I have some more…..money!
Soros: Hold on there, guys! I came to this country as a displaced person after World War II. I had to work my way up from nothing. It took years of chiseling and scheming to get to where I am today. Now I feel like it’s time to give something back to the world. You lot have never missed a meal in your lives. You have had everything handed to you on a silver platter by your parents and by the taxpayers, who have subsidized your education and have rewarded you with unbelievable tax breaks. Now you are being obliged to do something nice for other people. If there is anybody here who objects to this arrangement, there’s the door. You can go over to Goldman Sachs, hat in hand, and see if they’ll accept you.
Anybody care to leave?
The Traders: [silence]
Soros: Yeah, that’s what I thought. See you all back at work on Monday.
Trader 1: Boo hoo hoo! [to Tiny Tim] this is all your fault, you and that prick Obama, for spreading commie propaganda and undermining the American Way of Life.
Trader 2: I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I’m probably going to have to move to (sob) Queens. Jeez!
Soros goes home to his Fifth Avenue mansion. He changes from his bespoke suit to a simple loincloth and spins cotton on his spinning wheel, chanting Hindu mantras. Then, after dining on a simple meal of wheat germ and alfalfa sprouts, he retires to his small bedroom and goes to sleep in his narrow bed.