The Post makes two bold claims this morning. The first is that John Thain feels vindicated by Ken Lewis's resignation (which we buy, and would probably say is an understatement) but simultaneously "harbors no ill-will toward Lewis" (really? because that doesn't jibe with the account we have of Thain smearing on red lipstick and running his finger over KL's name, which is at the top of his "To Kill List," nightly since January).
The second, more pressing one, is that Thain supposedly has it in his head that Lewis is going to help him "rehabilitate" his image on Wall Street. Buying this alleged dream of JT's would of course require proof that Thain came up with the idea towards the end of a night of very heavy drinking, telling a friend "Hey! You know what I should do? I should get that guy who had the genius idea to buy the asbestos company I was running, who probably has a worse reputation than this guy [points to self] at this point, to vouch for me...what's his name again, Ben?" before falling off his bar stool, but no matter. It's out there, and it's probably going to catch KL by surprise.

Nevertheless, Lewis is happy to help (all that shit that happened between the two is Boone's off a duck's back), he's just not sure what he could do. So we need to focus. How exactly should the departing CEO do his part to "rehabilitate" Thain's image? Admit to CNBC the redecorating spree was all his idea? ("I said to John, I says, 'You can't live with out one of these fancy toilets, I'm telling you, it's the only way I get business done'.") Take out a series of ads in the Journal endorsing JT as his successor (or for Citi CEO, whichever)? Film a late-night YouTube confessional, in which he tearfully comes clean about being being a key source of Charlie Gasparino's investigation into Thain's office renovations, but that he never meant for things to get out of hand like they did, and he wouldn't have turned over the receipts unless he legitimately thought CG would make good on his claims to "break your fuckin face"? Pull a reverse Sheryl Weinstein, and tell the world Mr. Thain has a 16" cock ("need I say more?")? Stumble onto the floor of the NYSE during Closing Bell, rip the mic off Maria Bartiromo's lapel and slur, "Let me tell you about my friend John, Trixie" before asking Bob Pisani "does this bar have any snacks"? Help us out here.