A clever parody of Eliot's famous poem, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, was written by Stanley Bing for Fortune Magazine in April 2008. I ripped it out and stuck it in my Collected Works of T.S. Eliot, where I found it by accident last night.
Just in case there's any doubt left that history repeats itself.
The Love Song of A. Banker Foostock
-- Let us go then, you and me,
As all our liquid funds float out to sea
Like stale bread crumbs cast upon the water;
Let us go, through certain downtown streets,
Littered with dead spreadsheets
That lent an air of reason to stupidity,
The shine of fiscal prudence to cupidity;
Streets that bend and wind like a rationale
Offered by our mercantile cabal
That lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, come on and quit your pouting!
Let us go and make our outing.
In the room the brokers come and go
Talking of my portfolio.
Click this link to read on...
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