"Is it any wonder that virtually all Wall Street 'professionals' are habituated sociopaths who lie for a living just to skim a few pennies (metaphorically speaking: make that millions of "other people's" dollars in the real world). And is it any wonder that all banks demand their inner workings never see the light of day so they can operate in absolute secrecy, and exchanges like the above, and 22 more, are never read by the public." —Would you like to be a fixed income trader? Well, that era is ending, but it was a good grift. (via)
This is how the Freelancer’s Panic works: Checks that are supposed to have arrived get lost in the jaws of payroll processing, leaving you without any money and, worse yet, a sense that no money will find its way into your mailbox, ever. Days are spent alternating between considering the poor life decisions that have led to this point and sending out mass emails to friends and strangers looking for any leads. Which is how, one day last week, I found myself responding to an ad on the “Writing Gigs” section of the Los Angeles Craigslist that was, most likely, a scam. I mean, it definitely was a scam. Completely. [...]
"THE SQUIRT: This is also known as the mustard dip, the ketchup dip or the bird poo… It's a classic scam which involves thieves getting the attention of their prey by squirting something on them. It can be a white mixture that looks like a pigeon's handiwork on someone's shoulder in the street or tomato ketchup in a cafe." -The BBC offers a helpful list of time-tested short cons to watch out for.
There are so many new exciting sources of investment income these days! Fortunately you can own 25% of 20% of 50% of the performance royalties only of 80s pop hit "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off," as recorded by Jermaine Stewart, long dead now, and then you can retire, because you will be rich. Or stupid. (Here, the math: for every dollar earned that qualifies for performance royalties, you get, lesse: OH A SHINY ROUND 2.5 PENNIES.)
We don't really have to do anything more than quote the headline on this press release: "Experience a Day in the Life of Manhattan's Elite on the Tour of 'Gossip Girl' Sites." But seriously: what, you can't walk into Henry Bendel all on your own, without someone telling you it was on the T.V.? It's a fucking department store!