Everyone Pile on the I-Banker

Recent developments have forced a cease-and-desist on I-banker-hating around these parts, so lucky for me, the rest of New York is picking up my slack.

I-bankers in the blogosphere must feel as I do when I go home for Thanksgiving or any other holiday and am verbally accosted and berated by froth-mouthed Republicans who feel it's their mission to convince me -- the invading Blue State heathen -- that carbon dioxide is not a greenhouse gas and that if Hillary Clinton is elected they will be forced to marry the hog that lives in their barn, and together the two shall pay 57% income tax, the proceeds of which will be used to support the illigetimate throngs of cloned children bred on the East Coast and used to harvest organs.

Some days I just wish they'd have a special wall set up for me at the airport for me when I fly into the Midwest; upon my departure from the plane, I'll stand in front of the wall and all the Republicans can throw tomatoes at me until their rage is slaked, and then I can go on about the rest of my visit in peace.

So anyway, I kind of sympathize with this guy except that, at the end of the day, he can go home and cry into the sleeve of his two-thousand-dollar suit, and I have only a scratchy generic tissue with which to wipe the tomatoes off.