Bad Karma
By ALAN ABELSON (Excerpt from that fine publication, Barron's)
Killer pretzel.
The one, of course, that felled the President, separating him from consciousness
and sending him off his couch and onto the floor, with his cheek making passing
acquaintance with the wrong edge of a coffee table on the way down.
That was one mean biscuit. And the question immediately springs to mind: Was it
just any old pretzel or did it have a special twist?
We expect our friends at the editorial page of The Wall Street Journal to lay the
blame squarely on the lax gastronomic environment left behind by Mr. Bush's
predecessor. And they may be on to something: A search of the historic record
shows no instance of Mr. Bush, prior to his entry into the White House, munching
on a pretzel. Burritos yes; an occasional Milky Way; the odd slice of pizza. But
pretzels, never.
So it's at least conceivable that the bad culinary karma created by that gluttonous
gobbler of Big Macs, Bill Clinton, has slyly infected Mr. Bush's digestive
inclinations and led to his inexplicable yearning for a pretzel and the unsettling
consequences that issued from it.
Mr. Bush, after all, seems to have caught just a touch of the Pinocchio
President's tendency to memory-blur. As witness his assertion that Ken Lay of
Enron supported Ann Richardson when he, George W., ran against her for
governor of Texas. That came, we're sure, as a great surprise to everybody in
Texas, including Kenny Boy, as Mr. Bush fondly nicknamed him.
For although Mr. Lay indisputably liked to butter his political bread on both sides,
he contributed something like three times as much to Mr. Bush as he did to Ms.
Richardson and, further, he put his mouth where his money was by publicly
urging Mr. Bush's election.
Of course, the very mention of the name "Enron" does seem to make people go
all peculiar and bend, pretzel-like, out of character. Paul Krugman, Princeton prof
and New York Times op-ed columnist, it emerges, like Larry Lindsey, the White
House economist, served on Enron's advisory board, and in return received
$50,000 before the Times' conflict-of-interest policy forced him to quit when he
started scribbling for the paper.
Mr. Krugman, who assumes a highly moral stance in declaiming against the
economic failings of Washington, implies that since he did absolutely zilch for the
50 grand, he is without sin. As it turned out, alas, Enron robbed Peter (and Tom,
Dick and Harriet) to pay Paul (and Larry and Wendy Gramm).
However you sympathize with all those Tom, Dick and Harriets whose pockets
were picked, and however you abhor the scabrous stratagems Enron used in its
guileful pursuit of higher stock prices and cashable options, you can't help but find
more than a trace of opera bouffe in the whole sordid business.
Here's Enron, for example, firing Arthur Andersen as its auditor and presumably
planning to sue the firm on the grounds that it, Enron, was a compulsive finagler
and hence wasn't accountable for its actions; so, ipso facto, somebody else has to
take the rap and that somebody is Arthur Andersen.
Now, Arthur Andersen merits censure galore, not least for knowing as far back
as a year ago all the machinations that Enron was so energetically perpetrating,
and yet was so bedazzled by the prospect of future yearly fees of $100 million
(twice as much as it gleaned in 2000) that it blithely shrugged them off. But the
notion of Enron as victim is way over the top, so reminiscent of the old gag about
the guy who kills his mother and father and makes a special pleading for mercy
because now he's an orphan.
We're grateful, too, to Harvey Pitt, the SEC chairman, for providing some
necessary comic relief in a grim narrative. Specifically, the fey Mr. Pitt has
suggested, as a solution to the incontestable fact that "independent auditor" is now
an oxymoron, the formation of still another oversight group. Given the past
performance of the American Institute of Public Accountants and the Public
Oversight Board, we're sure the proposal was made in jest, to ease the tension a
touch. These "oversight" organizations have certainly proved themselves worthy
of the noun.
The stock market seems to be suffering from a case of creeping Enronitus. After
a splendid start this year, the market has broken down, in no small part, we think,
in reaction to the spreading scandal. Investor confidence and trust, still so fragile
after the blow administered by nearly two years of downswing, is being
challenged again by the realization that we've just had the biggest corporate
bankruptcy ever as well as lurid revelations of how the company pulled the paper
(green, and adorned by numbers and the faces of revered Presidents) over so
many eyes.
The obvious huge involvement of Wall Street -- brokers, investment bankers,
analysts and commercial bankers -- in the mess can only further eviscerate
whatever investor illusions remain and deepen mistrust. More than any fresh
government regulation or self-imposed strictures by corporations and accountants,
that's likely to be the most exacting legacy of the Enron affair. And since we
don't think Enron is going away anytime soon, it's an inhibiting legacy that's likely
to be with us for quite a spell. |
