April 14 (Bloomberg) — Goldman Sachs Group Inc., buoyed by better-than-expected earnings and a 54 percent gain in its stock price, raised $5 billion in the largest stock sale this year to help repay $10 billion in government rescue funds.

I’m no economics expert, but one thing is clear about this Goldman Sachs thing - it stinks to high heaven!

Okay, first they help run our economy into the ground. Well, not them specifically, or rather, not all of them, but a lot of them, right? And then they had to stop being an “investment bank,” which is just like them, isn’t it? To sort of stop being the thing that makes money that turns out not to be money and instead try to be a thing that makes money that IS money. Sure, nice plan, Sachsy!

Anyway, the real problem is that these guys took our bailout money - just TOOK it! And now they’re giving it back. I’m not economist - but what!? Why? So they can continue to pay out those big bonuses! Not just because it’s money they owe, believe me on this one, though I could be wrong and whose fault is that!?

And what about the bailout money that they got through AIG? That was like $12 billion, but is that part of what they’re paying back or is that money that AIG actually “owed” them because they owed a lot of people money because of the dirty, bad bets that they were making? I’m not an economics professor, but I know that I don’t know the answer to that one, and what does that say about our financial system!?

I don’t have a degree in economics, but I feel pretty safe in saying that this whole damned business of “finance” is geared towards making those fatcats rich. And the only thing more galling than seeing them flounder and drag us down into a recession is seeing some of them STOP floundering. And don’t tell me that this is a sign that we all might be getting out of the recession at some point - I may not be an economics major, but I’m not falling for THAT old line.

So stop telling me that this is going to be solved by bailouts and restructuring and reform, or that MY future is somehow tied to these bloodsucking evil leeches! I may not understand Thing One about the economy, but I know that this is not the time to let “cool heads prevail” and “educate myself” about finance so that I “know what I’m talking about.” No, that time is past - now is the time to get angry! Who’s with me?

First, the comic book has been pushed back to April 22nd. Not my fault, I swear! I’ve seen it now, though, and I think it’ll be worth the wait.

Second, there has been some clamoring for birthday cake photos of young Baz, and I have to say they’d disappoint you - the young man somehow didn’t produce any real messy-faced moments. He’ll have one more shot at the cliche this weekend. Meanwhile, please enjoy this moment, from his actual birthday.

He’d been crawling for days, but it was on his birthday that he realized that he was crawling. As you can see, that made all the difference.

All right, kiddies, I hope you’ve been enjoying the “Real Time.” It’s been strange new world of political comedy writing, to say the least. But at least there’s been no shortage of idiots outside of the White House. They’re America’s most reliable renewable resource.

Me, well, the moonlighting has come to fruition. On April 1st, “Skrull Kill Krew #1″ hits the stores. Learn about it here.

Pretty, ain’t it?  My editor has also passed on this handy resource, for those of you who, like me, would have little idea how to find your local comic purveyor.

And, as a special bonus, Continue reading this entry »

Longtime Friend-of-FanAp Katie Wise, aka “Wisemommy” has a new project. Some might call it crazy, some might call it… well, no, “crazy” about does it.

But in dark times like these, when we all struggle to find hope in an uncertain world, sometimes there comes a cause, a human effort, that can inspire a generation and captivate a nation.

And then there are the times when someone tries to incubate chicken eggs in her cleavage.

And sometimes those are the same things. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Boobbator 2009, The Great Hatching Experiment.

Are you going to be in the Los Angeles area in the next few weeks?

Do you miss the Bush administration enjoy farce?

Then you might want to come see my beloved Jeanne, mother of my wee bairn, as the female lead in Feydeau’s “Paradise Hotel,” directed by Gina Torrecilla. It opens Friday.  It also features my friends Eris Migliorini and Eddie Pepitone.  Longtime FanAp (or Felber) fans might remember Eddie and Eris from my New York comedy yesteryear.  Yes, they’re here now.  I think they’re stalking Jeanne.

[Bonus - yes, that’s the beauty and a familiar beast in the poster below. Plus, I made it (though I can’t take credit for the catchy slogan).]

http://twitter.com/adameft

Yeah, I know. But it actually might be a good fit for my current lifestyle.

Don’t worry, I’ll soon figure our a way to pipe the Tweets into this blog, and you’ll be able to enjoy a bunch of inscrutable microposts in comfort and style.

Say what you will, and yes, Obama’s speech was great, but I have to disagree with the cynics.

So stop “hatin’,” people, and face it. Yesterday, out of Louisiana, we were given a glimpse of the future of politics.
Continue reading this entry »

Hi all!  Adam’s sister Susie here again.

Since you didn’t ask, I’ve been very busy lately.

First there’s my time spent keeping a mental list of the many economic downturn terms that are unintentionally sexy.  I can’t help myself.  When the velvet-tongued Kai Ryssdal talks about hard times, the need for greater transparency and Obama’s huge stimulus package — I experience liquidity.

Then, there’s my day job.  I am psyched to brag tell you that the dumb blog I toil on is a SXSW Awards finalist.  Altogether way too much more on that development here.  If any of you are going to or are in Austin for it, let a sistah know.

In other developments, I’m now the breadwinner in my family.  I have no problem with this.  In fact, I was really excited.

But then I found out you don’t actually win any bread.  As soon as my husband went freelance, I was skipping into Pathmark saying, “Pumpernickel?  Baguette? Lavash?  Hit me!”

Embarrassing, to say the least.

But seriously folks, here’s wishing you a happy Valentine’s Day, and if it isn’t happy, well, you can always kvetch in the comments below.

xoxo,

Susie

At least three. I mean, people were telling me I looked great.

Oh, we didn’t win, of course. Saturday Night Live did. But really, it was an honor just to be publicly disappointed at a primo table right near the stage in full view of most of the cameras!

Seriously, though, a great time. I’d never been to an awards show, unless you count the 1995 MTV VMAs. And I wasn’t nominated for anything there, though Steven Tyler did choose to sweat directly on me, which felt like something of an honor.

But the night was not without drama. See, I didn’t have a suit - haven’t had one in far too long, in fact. But I did have a Macy’s gift certificate. So Friday morning, on my return from “Wait Wait,” I stopped off, and with Jeanne found a terrific suit at a jaw-droppingly good price. God bless the fiscal meltdown!

So I pick up the freshly-cuffed suit yesterday, take it home and put it on a few minutes before our HBO-supplied car arrives. Jeanne already looks beautiful, and we’re goin’ in style… a Hollywood power couple, about to breeze down the red carpet…

Which is when I discover that something is wrong with my suit. It seems too small. It will not button, no matter how aggressively I pull at it, and I’d eaten kind of light all day, to boot.   I pull and I struggle and I eventually have to face facts: This is not my suit. It is, in fact, upon inspection, 4 sizes too small.

I called Macy’s in a panic, and they went into a panic. 5 seconds later, the phone rings - our driver is here.

What could we do? I’m wearing a shirt, tie, dress shoes… and shorts. The driver takes us not to the awards but to Macy’s. By the time we arrived, the staff had determined that my suit had been mistakenly given to a “Mr. Strange” (no lie).

We raced around the store searching for a replacement, because there were no more of my suits available. Jeanne found one that seemed to fit, more or less. They called a tailor in for an emergency look, she did her thing with the pant cuffs, and we waited anxiously as she sewed and the awards show preliminaries ticked by. There were moments of comedy (in retrospect), as when Jeanne went to look for my misplaced belt, unaware that she was carrying my shorts with her, meaning I spent at least some of my Big Awards Show cocktail hour prowling around near the changing area of Macy’s in a shirt, tie, underwear, and dress socks, trying to attract Jeanne’s attention out on the floor in a stage whisper while semi-hiding behind clothing racks.

Soon, though, the tailor finished her rush job, I jumped into the suit and we were off.

And we got there before cocktail hour was over. The whole thing was a great time - we ran into lots of old friends, old idols (Carl Reiner was there, receiving a special award, introduced by his son), and lot of people, who, like me, were Honored Just To Be Nominated. A great time, and my equanimity had been restored. Although, if sometime during the evening I had been introduced to a man in a smart charcoal suit and a name like, say, “Doug Strange,” I’m pretty sure I would’ve punched him in the face.

…and it was great. I’ll post something this weekend, but now, if you’ll ’scuse me, I’ve got to step out to Chicago for a quick Waitwaiting.

Meanwhile, and I’m trying to put this delicately, please enjoy the rantings of the most colossal Dick in the history of mankind.