A LETTER FROM A SECOND-HAND DESK
Scapegoat Kenneth Lay, CEO of the People, Speaks from the Heart
Ed. Note: We here at Spurious George know Ken Lay. Ken Lay is a friend of ours, and you hippies out there are no Ken Lay. For example, we’d probably never let any of you publish a full-length letter on this site (that is, if your marijuana-induced attention deficit disorder even allowed you to do so.) But Ken Lay? Hell, we even lent him one of our American-made computers (his was recently repossessed) so he could prove to you conspiracy theorists once and for all that he did a heckuva job for Enron, and by extension, America.
Dear Spurious George Readers,
Before I begin, I want to thank from the bottom of my weakened and now-uninsured heart my good friend Rex Kramer for this opportunity to clear my good name. These last few years have been difficult for me and my family of 75 adopted third-world leprosy-afflicted children, but through it all Rex has stood by me…although, now that I think about it, never when there were cameras around. Also, every time we meet he gives me that awkward “are you wearing a wire?” hug while simultaneously holding onto his wallet. Still, you can’t buy friendship like that. Trust me, I’ve tried.
Moving on, I trust that by now most of you who, unlike my crooked accountant, read above the third-grade level have absorbed the fact-filled letter I authored and disseminated to my faithful friends, former employees, and stockholders. In it, I made clear that the government’s case against me is weaker than Hillary’s chances for taking the White House in 2008. Thus, I will not re-visit the issue of my undeniable innocence, but rather I wish to invite you into my down-sized world to see how a vengeful, oversized federal government can destroy any man, even one as great and patriotic as I.
Let me paint a picture for you (I have to paint it myself, as I can no longer afford to keep a team of artists on staff.) I write to you today from a cigarette-scarred second-hand desk/nightstand, teetering on the lime-green carpet of an airport Motel 6. The pen I’m using is disposable, as is the cup from which I sip my instant coffee and the utensils I use to cut up my morning meal of government cheese and Twinkies. The pillow on which I rest my head on at night is synthetic, my pyjamas are not fire-retardant, and if you were to turn off the lights and introduce a black light, I’m quite certain my bedsheets could be seen from orbit. Cockroaches, landing 727s and a hacking cough are my only companions. I have fallen so far, so fast, and had I not found Jesus recently, I might have considered my 2nd Amendment right and, well, some things are better left unsaid.
I mention my current condition not to solicit pity (although if you do feel a pang, I urge you to donate generously to my defense fund,) but rather to highlight the fact that no one has suffered as much as I as a result of this ridiculous and inflated “scandal.” The 28,000 geeks at Arthur Anderson who lost their jobs? Everyone knows that accountants can work anywhere, but try finding a high-powered CEO gig on Monster.com! The thousands who lost their pensions due to no criminal act on my part? Hey, lots of people work into their 80’s these days! Besides, the best these people could’ve hoped for was a depressing retirement cottage in the Poconos and maybe a second-hand RV. Me? My golden years were to be truly golden…literally (I had commissioned the construction of the world’s first mansion constructed entirely out of gold, with hot-and-cold running gold and even a bidet that pampered your ass in liquid platinum!)
The point is, you could point your finger at many institutions that contributed to Enron’s collapse, such as “greed” or “incompetence” or “lack of oversight” or “book-cooking” or “conspiracy” or “me,” but really, what would that accomplish? Would that get people their jobs back? Would that replenish folks’ pension plan? More importantly, would it make me rich again?
No, really, would it? ‘Cause I mean to tell you, I’d sure like that!
Destitutely Yours,
Kenneth “Kenny Boy” Lay
Today’s Cry for Help Brought to You By:
Ed. Note: We here at Spurious George know Ken Lay. Ken Lay is a friend of ours, and you hippies out there are no Ken Lay. For example, we’d probably never let any of you publish a full-length letter on this site (that is, if your marijuana-induced attention deficit disorder even allowed you to do so.) But Ken Lay? Hell, we even lent him one of our American-made computers (his was recently repossessed) so he could prove to you conspiracy theorists once and for all that he did a heckuva job for Enron, and by extension, America.
Dear Spurious George Readers,
Before I begin, I want to thank from the bottom of my weakened and now-uninsured heart my good friend Rex Kramer for this opportunity to clear my good name. These last few years have been difficult for me and my family of 75 adopted third-world leprosy-afflicted children, but through it all Rex has stood by me…although, now that I think about it, never when there were cameras around. Also, every time we meet he gives me that awkward “are you wearing a wire?” hug while simultaneously holding onto his wallet. Still, you can’t buy friendship like that. Trust me, I’ve tried.
Moving on, I trust that by now most of you who, unlike my crooked accountant, read above the third-grade level have absorbed the fact-filled letter I authored and disseminated to my faithful friends, former employees, and stockholders. In it, I made clear that the government’s case against me is weaker than Hillary’s chances for taking the White House in 2008. Thus, I will not re-visit the issue of my undeniable innocence, but rather I wish to invite you into my down-sized world to see how a vengeful, oversized federal government can destroy any man, even one as great and patriotic as I.
Let me paint a picture for you (I have to paint it myself, as I can no longer afford to keep a team of artists on staff.) I write to you today from a cigarette-scarred second-hand desk/nightstand, teetering on the lime-green carpet of an airport Motel 6. The pen I’m using is disposable, as is the cup from which I sip my instant coffee and the utensils I use to cut up my morning meal of government cheese and Twinkies. The pillow on which I rest my head on at night is synthetic, my pyjamas are not fire-retardant, and if you were to turn off the lights and introduce a black light, I’m quite certain my bedsheets could be seen from orbit. Cockroaches, landing 727s and a hacking cough are my only companions. I have fallen so far, so fast, and had I not found Jesus recently, I might have considered my 2nd Amendment right and, well, some things are better left unsaid.
I mention my current condition not to solicit pity (although if you do feel a pang, I urge you to donate generously to my defense fund,) but rather to highlight the fact that no one has suffered as much as I as a result of this ridiculous and inflated “scandal.” The 28,000 geeks at Arthur Anderson who lost their jobs? Everyone knows that accountants can work anywhere, but try finding a high-powered CEO gig on Monster.com! The thousands who lost their pensions due to no criminal act on my part? Hey, lots of people work into their 80’s these days! Besides, the best these people could’ve hoped for was a depressing retirement cottage in the Poconos and maybe a second-hand RV. Me? My golden years were to be truly golden…literally (I had commissioned the construction of the world’s first mansion constructed entirely out of gold, with hot-and-cold running gold and even a bidet that pampered your ass in liquid platinum!)
The point is, you could point your finger at many institutions that contributed to Enron’s collapse, such as “greed” or “incompetence” or “lack of oversight” or “book-cooking” or “conspiracy” or “me,” but really, what would that accomplish? Would that get people their jobs back? Would that replenish folks’ pension plan? More importantly, would it make me rich again?
No, really, would it? ‘Cause I mean to tell you, I’d sure like that!
Destitutely Yours,
Kenneth “Kenny Boy” Lay
Today’s Cry for Help Brought to You By:
posted by Rex Kramer, Danger Seeker at Saturday, March 04, 2006
4 Comments:
Damn you Ken Lay. That contribution was supposed to be our little secret. How can I infiltrate the hippies if you keep publicizing our relationship?
May you have a long lonely night tonight with your government cheese- I will not meet you at the Tom Ridge Pavilion in the Poconos to enjoy Bob Dylan ever again!!!!
(Yea, I went to the Tom Ridge Pavilion. Got a problem with that Scannon??? I go to Clear Channel's Montage, too. And I will go to the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame despite the antics of the surviving Sex Pistols!!!)
Lily, I'm not sure who these "sex pistols" are, but I like the cut of your jib. Thanks for your all-American corporate sponsorship!
I have no idea who this Lily Lay is, but I'm sure if she went to see Bob Dylan(is this the person he wrote that song "Lay, Lily Lay" about?), she must have been high.
Thanks for reprinting this letter from a fine American. Now, is he the one that makes the potato chips, or is he the one that was an exterminator down in Texas?
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