"I have made a pact with Prostitution to sow disorder in families." "Maldoror", Book I, VII, Lautreamont.
With infinite sadness I wail the sufferings of Mr. Lay. A fallen angel flapping his fractured wings from the deepest pit of Hell fails to attain the quantum of sadness endured by Ken Lay. He did no wrong. From his vacation house in Vail, Colorado, his wife's mascara washes down her face like the mighty Orinoco. One would think Hera's upset over another infidelity of randy ole Zeus. This sadness cuts deeper. It involves bank accounts, horded treasure--a birthright! The Titans of Law have stormed Olympus! Pan pipes on Argos! The Old Gods are dead! (Hardly.)
Someone had to fall. The true God still stands. Banks are now open on Sunday.....Bye Bye churches. If you wish to swindle and rob the people--Do it with zest, sans pretence--Then retire with a nice Pension!(CF. Mr Oil Man with bad teeth who can still smile fulsomely)
Justitia's a whore. She'll take a Lay over an oily stage any day. It's all about appearances.
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