Like many a lass from a respectable family, Dick Bové’s mother once cautioned her that no one’s gonna buy the cow when they can get the milk for free, and to “cover up those bosoms, you look like a floozie.” Unfortunately, Divé, young and full of hormones and headstrong like you wouldn’t believe, refused to listen to the advice (or to cross her legs in public). “Oh mother, you’re so old-fashioned,” she told Mrs. Bové as she got ready for the dance by stuffing her bra. Divé lost it that night, in the back seat of a Buick, to a guy she wasn’t going steady with (this was the 1930s, so a pretty big scandal) and from then on it was a different guy, or guys, every night of the week. Most mornings she’d wake-up in an alley off 42nd Street, fishnet stockings torn, no recollection of how she got there, or who she’d done along the way. And she was fine with this sort of existence. She didn’t care what people thought of her, and no one was going to tell her how to live her life. The mutters of “tramp” didn’t hurt, nor did the burning sensation when she peed. But then something happened. She met a guy.
His name was Ken. And she knew he’d turn out to be the greatest banker in all the land. And she knew it was wrong, but she was just so scared he’d think she was damaged goods or something, so she told a little lie, about how he was the only man Bové had ever been with, and not the 937th. Their children would most likely be punished down the road because mommy used to go slumming but at least she could give Ken this. And a funny thing happened after that. Bové started to like not being such a two-bit whore. Unfortunately the pimps and the druggies were still under the impression she was up for a good time and would drop by the house during dinner, much to KL’s disturbance; and Bové knew what she needed to do. Start demanding a little respect. And she would start by respecting herself:
Research by prolific banking analyst Dick Bove won’t be as widely available for at least the rest of the year and possibly longer, as his employer aims to preserve its value. Selected reports will be available to the media on a case-by-case basis. But the full research reports will no longer be readily available to reporters and other non-clients, Bove said Monday.
“The information is getting to [people] who are not paying,” Bove, of Rochdale Securities, told Dow Jones Newswires by phone Monday. “It’s weakening our whole approach to how we want to price the product.” Broad distribution is being ended for at least the rest of 2009 and is under review for afterward, so that “paying customers will recognize they are getting a unique product,” Bove said.
Earlier: Dick Bové: Bank Of America Should Beg Ken Lewis To Stay
milk
brilliant
he looks so regal in that pic…
@IC- way to phone it in.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence but I overheard Erin between segments being dunned by someone named Cookie (Mookie, Pookie?)and after pleading with him (her?) saying “fifty.”
Bookie? Dealer? Pimp?
I hope she’s not falling in with a bad crowd.
I sense a novel in the works.
she looks so chaste in that pic
@6 It’d be about time. Can’t wait to buy BL in hardcover.
@7: “chaste” what a beautiful, forgotten word…
Every time I see a picture of this guy all I can think of is that this is what a tampon looked like in the middle ages.
A novel would work but I think a Broadway musical would be better. Gasparino would bring down the house with his aria “What Have I Got?”
@9 = Pope Benedict
You leave your kids with your mama
cuz your headin’ for the club
in a skin tight miniskirt
lookin’ for some love.
Got them legs wide open
while you’re sittin’ at the bar
Talkin’ to some nigga ’bout his car.
I guess he said he had a Lexxxus, what’s next?
You headin’ to his car for some sex
I pass by
can’t hold back tears inside
cuz, lord knows
for years I tried.
Keep your head up, legs closed, eyes open
either a nigga wear a rubber or he die smokin’
I’m hearin’ rumors so you need to switch
and niggas wouldn’t call you bitch, I betcha.
-Kenneth Lewis, Not a “Skip-Type”
@11 CG would only bring down the house if Bess was writing for him. On his own his charmless jabroni.
@14 Who do you think writes for him now? I’ve always maintained that he’s just a front/chauffer for Bess’ alter ego.
@15 yeah, no. chaz is not funny on his own, his painful/infuriating. bess makes his meathead tendencies amusing/marginally loveable.
Knees together, feet apart.
“A unique product.”
I’ll give them that.
looks like Bove thinks CNBC is ok to share his top secret view with. He was just spouting off a bunch of banks he clears as not needing to raise capital on Fast Money.
Dealbreaker should investigate this: “Also joining Bove at Rochdale as institutional salespersons are Joseph Bove and Andrew Massey.”