Thain's Unthrifty Throne

John Thain resigned in shame from Bank of America. It turns out that he sold Bank of America CEO Ken Lewis a lemon in the form of investment bank Merrill Lynch. And not just any lemon. A black hole lemon that sucks out all the moisture from anyone who tastes its juice, and leaves pillars of salt in its wake. Merrill Lynch lost $15B just a couple of months after Lewis paid $50B for it.

Now, Bank of America is basically insolvent and the economy may be going to holy hell because of all this, but that’s not the real story. Thain also distributed $4 billion in bonuses before the end of the quarter, despite the mammoth losses, but that’s not the real story either. There’s also the fact that he spent $1.2 million renovating his office, but even that’s not the whole story. The real story here is the fact that he spent $35k on a commode. That’s right. Thirty-five thousand dollars on a toilet. A crapper. A cold porcelain shit catcher.

I can’t confess to having ever purchased a toilet, so I’m really not sure if that’s a reasonable sum or not, but I think I’d probably go without one before I’d spend $35k on a dumper. What could possibly make it worth so much? Was it diamond-studded or gold-rimmed? Who cares? Why would these things matter if all you do is deposit a rancid turd into a little swirl of water? It’s not like you’re gonna show your friends. You can’t exactly impress a girl at a party with the fact that you routinely wipe your nasty underside over a bowl designed by Cartier.

The toilet is a place of privacy, of refuge. Some people read magazines or books to occupy their minds. Others just meditate, snatching a few precious moments of alone time. The only thing that would make it better for me would be some other form of entertainment it could provide during my, um, exertions. Not a TV. Maybe a time machine. Not the kind where you get trapped in the distant future trying to save a race of children from underground mutants –- just the kind where you can calmly view the events of humanity or of your own life, future or past, without interfering, all the while dropping a deuce into a little pot. That would be worth it. I’d fork out 35,000 smackers for that. To hell with the shareholders and the financial system and the flailing economy.