A Miracle In Mustique

Publish date:
Updated on

Back in December, the gut-wrenching rumors circulated that Fairfield Greenwich Group founder Walter Noel, his wife Monica, and their five daughters would not be spending Christmas at the family's home in Mustique, which they were-- and my fingers are recoiling in horror here but I'm powering through it-- renting out by the week, like a common street whore. The sadness was almost too much to bear, and though we pleaded with Uncle Bernie to do something, anything, our cries fell on deaf/under 24-hour surveillance ears. We were gazing into the abyss and you know what was staring back at us? A vision of the two once vibrant human beings you see at left, sitting in a Seaside Heights motel. And then, like an angel descended from a heaven that takes whatever money could be returned to bilked investors and places it in the hands of the truly deserving, came this glimmer of hope that everything is going to be alright.
Page Sixreports that Walter and Mon have returned home. Yes, mon chichis, the duo is safely ensconced in Yemanja. And though, due to the matter of selling their share of a private jet, they were forced to fly commercial, it sounds like M and Dubs are going to be okay. Provided the plot to fake their own deaths, being hatched as we speak, goes off without a hitch. Otherwise I don't know what they're going to do. If anyone has any get rich quick schemes to speak of, let us know and we'll pass them on.


Harvard Business School Alum Has A 4-Point Plan For Fixing The Election Process In The United States

On November 6, 2012, as the results of the presidential election rolled in, a member of the Harvard Business School Class of 2010 considered ending it all. "The thought crossed my mind to jump off my penthouse apartment balcony," he wrote his fellow classmates yesterday. Sure, he had a lot to live for: friends, family, the earthly delights afforded to him by living in Southern California ("surfing, mountains, 78 degree sunshine, and hot babes everywhere"), as well as a new company and all that came with it (relationships with celebrities that straddle the line between "friend and service provider," as well as invites to "the VMAs and private concerts in Vegas"). But he also had a lot of reasons to be good and angry at the world, including but not limited to: the state of California being "filled with so many hippie liberals" he just might snap and in doing so "choke out a street bum," people who "sit around with their hand out and expect to be fed," and, most vexingly, the reelection of Barack Obama. And while he did not in fact end up leaping from his penthouse balcony apartment that night, make no mistake, he was and is exceedingly pissed about the direction this country is going, which is south on the Pacific Coast Highway right straight to hell. And whereas the endless stream of bums and hobos and hippies he encounters each and every day the second he steps out of his penthouse apartment probably would take the easy way out, because that's what they do, he's better than that. So instead, he went to bed, got up, sat down at his computer and channeled his anger into something productive: a list of suggestions for how we can get America back on track and in four years, rest it from the hands of the commie holding it hostage, like forcing candidates to use bullet points and telling people who don't believe in capitalism to pack their shit because in 20 minutes a van is coming to ship their non-contributing zero asses off to a country where it's not actually a "privilege" to live. First, though, some life updates, because it really has been too long.