The boss man’s boss man pleaded to his enablers stop us before we kill again, we do what we do because we can do nothing else, of course, of course.

But don’t call us sharks for we are only human, while the flaws are in the system and the system must remain flawed, for it was created by humans like us.

Let us have a conversation, just like before, where we will talk and you will listen and we will wring our hands and you will say of course, of course.

We must be allowed to profit. It’s axiomatic. Of course, of course.

We must be allowed to determine what is sufficient profit, for we are the experts in profit. Of course, of course.

We must be allowed to determine what is and is not necessary, for only by culling the unnecessary can we assure sufficient profit. Of course, of course.

And we must be clear: if it does not yield sufficient profit, it is unnecessary. Ipso facto, pardon my Latin, but surely you agree. Of course, of course.

There is nothing we can do. We are at the mercy of the flaws in all we create, But we must create, for we are humans and we are destined. Of course, of course.

Just as the moon must swell in the cold December sky, our profits must illuminate the fullness of our humanity, the sum expression of our worth. Of course. Of course!

And the boss man’s boss man extended a hand, and the hand was soft and warm in fur-lined doeskin, here’s a little something for your daughter’s wedding.

A little something for your time and trouble.