Dick Feagler: Why don’t National City execs kill themselves?


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Today's topic: Dick thinks National City is run by a bunch of fairies… I was at the coffee shop, and the guys all agree: Bankers these days are light in the loafers. Why, back in my day, bankers weren’t prancers like the ones they have today. If you were the chairman of National City back in my day, you wouldn’t just sit around a board room eating finger sandwiches with your buddies. You’d do the right thing, which was jump out a seventh floor window and splatter yourself on the sidewalk… Back in my day, bankers were more considerate. They knew if they jumped out a window, someone on the sidewalk could take their watch if it didn’t get wrecked in the fall. Plus their widow could also marry a real man, so her dad would stop razzing her about the bum she hitched. And back in my day, when a banker jumped, he wouldn’t do it with a golden parachute. In my day, parachutes were made of canvass. They was green, and we only used ‘em to land behind enemy Kraut lines. Why, if he would have made ‘em gold, the Krauts would have figured they were getting invaded by some hairdressers from California. They would have fought us off with decorating tips. We never would have won the Big One, and we’d all be eating sauerkraut these days, which is only good on ballpark hotdogs. And back in my day, we fought real wars, not like these wars they have today. Why, in the Big One, it took us less than five years to conquer all of Europe, which is a lot bigger than Toledo. But these days, they take five years and they can’t even conquer Iraq, which is like fighting a Jiffy Lube… This has been another deep insight from Dick Feagler. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming...


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