Forbes on Fox went pretty well — too short to intelligently discuss equities — and they came in way too close — so I look like I weigh about 250 pounds (which is 30 to 40 pounds beyond reality).
Of course, I have an amusing anecdote. I’m in the green room, which isn’t green at all, waiting to have makeup done (gotta kill that shine). I’m chatting with the staff (mostly Forbes editors) about the mutual fund scandal:
“How much money did each investor really lose?” asks one of them, who seems not to understand the issue at all.
“You’re OK if someone breaks into your home once a month and steals a dime off your nightstand?” I ask. “It’s not the per capita loss — a few 100 million spread over 7 trillion in mutual funds amounts to less than $1 per investor; It’s the breach of fiduciary obligation, contract, and SEC regulations.”
Response? “Hmmm. You have a point”
So were back and forth on the subject, when who blows into the room — but the Shrill Blond Harpy herself! Live and in person.
She is rail thin — I mean, Ally McBeal, eating disorder skinny. Low hip hugger jeans, simple pullover shirt, faint scent of sulfur.
Unlike with the Nobel Laurelate, I do not introduce myself — for fear I would never be able to stop washing my hands, a whole new level of OCD.
While some people find her attractive, I do not. Objectively speaking, she’s not bad looking, assuming you can overlook the black soul and the little side deal with Lucifer. Other than that, not bad looking at all.
My life just becomes more bizarre all the time . . .