Alright so there’s a slight clarification to be made to the story about the mother trying to peddle her son’s ass out to rich older women. Suzanne, the mom who really wanted her son Alex to at least be afforded the opportunity to become the sex slave of someone old enough to be his—wait for it—mother, didn’t actually give birth to Alex. She’s just his stepmother (more on that later). Yesterday, Big S placed a second call to PocketChangeNYC organizers, who weren’t yet entirely convinced they should make room for the kid at Thursday’s event, considering all slots were filled while he hemmed and hawed about forking over the fifty dollar entrance fee. Suzanne remains so certain that Alex’s participation in the singular awesomeness that is an evening of matchmaking between sugar mamas and boy toys under time constraint that she and her husband are willing to pay the $50 themselves, provided Alex is allowed to be whored out like everyone else. Suzanne adds at the end, as I guess her “final plea” or whatever, that she hopes they’ll reconsider, if for no other reason than the fact that she’s not Alex’s biological mother, and “part of the reason [she ’d] really like him to be able to go is because it would cause her* so much agony.” Presumptuous insinuations about what sort of scenarios would or wouldn’t pain Alex’s real mom (who knows, perhaps this is exactly the sort of thing she’s always dreamed of for her baby boy), I have to say, we’re sold. And also that I hope to one day be so lucky as to have stepchildren at my disposal through which I can carry out vindictive but hilarious schemes that speak to my severe psychological problems. Additionally, and this is just me talking crazy, but I can’t help thinking there’s something going on between these two. Now that it's printed as fact through the magic of the Internet, feel free to embellish on this incontrovertible truth and disseminate widely.
Message From Stepmom
Earlier: That Cougar Will Feel Like She's Sixteen Again When MY Son Is Banging Her, THIS MUCH I PROMISE YOU
*"her" = biological mom, if you were confused.
How Can Wall Street Feel Alive Again?
As some of you may recall, there was a time not too long ago when you could work on Wall Street and be compensated in a way that made you feel special. Appreciated. Loved. Eight, nine, ten-figures of love. Now, obviously, not so much. But that is not what's eating the industry's most fragile spirits of late. They are fine taking pay cuts. They could care less about the money. What they're not fine with is having the rush, the intensity, the adrenaline-pumping fear that comes with, say, putting on a trade in which maybe the firm will make $1 billion or maybe it'll lose $10 billion, WHO KNOWS, IT'S ALL RELATIVE, I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS, THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT SO EXCITING taken away from them. Take Sean George. He used to spend his days destroying company property and now, thanks to financial regulation, has had to get his kicks elsewhere. Sean George kneeled in the Church of St. Paul the Apostle in Manhattan. He wasn’t praying. A gash below his right brow bled into his eye and down his nose before a knee to his groin sent him to the floor. George, 39, head of credit-derivatives trading at Jefferies, was making his Muay Thai debut at the church June 22 in a sport that allows kicking, elbowing and kneeing. His eye was swelling shut by the time he lost in a split decision. It was the happiest he’s been all year, he said. “Right now at work I’m making less risk decisions -- and I enjoy taking risks,” George, who headed investment-grade credit-default-swap trading at Deutsche Bank AG before he joined Jefferies last year, said in an interview. “If you’re in it for the game and the fight, the game’s over and the fight’s over.” Risk is what drew George and the colleagues he respects to Wall Street, he said. He could bring in millions of dollars in a single month at his peak, and trading was so intense that during one credit-default-swap deal he smashed a phone against his desk, sending part of it three rows away, “one of the records for the best break,” he said. Ethan Garber's lost that tingly feeling in his plums. “There’s no sexiness, there’s no fun, there’s no intellectual intrigue, either,” said Ethan Garber, who ran proprietary credit-arbitrage portfolios for Credit Suisse Group AG and Bear Stearns Cos. “A lot of my friends who actually lingered for the last four years are all now getting fired anyway,” said Garber, 45, currently CEO of IdleAir, a Knoxville, Tennessee-based firm that provides electricity at truck stops. “The air is taken out.” Robert McTamaney has been reduced to doing his best impression of a whiskey-swilling, cigar-chomping newspaper man from the 1940's, who we assume addressed Bloomberg's Max Abelson as "toots" here. “The socks are higher, the skirts are longer,” said McTamaney, who helped run Goldman Sachs’s equities- trading business in Asia. “It’s like styles: They change, and you’ve got to change with it or be left behind.” Former King Street Capital and Bank of America trader Sam Polk isn't gonna lie, the worst part of Wall Street 2.0 is not being able to feel like a god by dropping $10,000 for bottle service on Wednesday nights, and sometimes even Thursdays. “You could be a 20-something trader three years out of school, able to go to any restaurant or club or ballgame on any night that you wanted, and it was totally paid for,” he said. “It was a tremendous feeling of power.” Michael Meyer is dying a slow, painful death. “The light at the end of the tunnel is dim,” said Meyer, now co-head of sales and trading at New York investment bank Seaport Group. Clearly, it's not pretty. But here at Dealbreaker we're about offering solutions, not whining about problems. How can these guys and girls replicate the feelings they once got by taking on risk on the job, if, unlike Sean George, getting kicked in the balls is not their thing? Drinking the carton of milk in the break room that's been sitting out for two days, telling the boss's wife it looks like she's gained a couple pounds, having unprotected sex with a junkie, shouting "You go girl!" at yourself in spin class after being kindly told to "Shut the fuck up" or else, and leaving dirty dishes in the sink all seem like good jumping off points but we can do better. These people need our help. Bloodied Trader Pines For Risk As Wall Street Retreats [Bloomberg]