One can plan, but nothing ever goes the way one thinks and you must adapt and improvise as you go along. Sebastian is my name, and I love Olive Garden. Is that a crime? No. But it is a crime to rob people, even when they work on Wall Street and are (it goes without saying) vacuous assholes, and even when you use the proceeds of this theft to pay for the needy to go to Olive Garden. Yes, that was my general plan: steal from the rich of Wall Street and give Olive Garden to the poor. Legal or not, a more noble endeavor I cannot imagine.'
Where does one find people who work on Wall Street? I'm a clever man, so I decided to head to Wall Street. But clearly I couldn't just walk into Goldman Sachs. I reasoned, I intuited, if you will, that I should hover around the local watering holes during after-work hours, where plenty of analysts and associates would be. And indeed they were. In their nice business outfits, drinking ridiculous drinks, smiling with that look on their faces of "oh yeah I am hot shit," having stupid, enthusiastic conversations about how much this vice president makes and how much that one makes, what their bonuses might be, etc. These "people" clearly think of highly of themselves, think they are so professional and competent and good at what they do, and that what they do is so important and that they are driving the economic engine of the world and if they make high amounts of money well then of course they deserve it. Who are these people? What happened to their souls?
As I sat in some bar in the Financial District watching these vapid cartoons drinking their gin-and-tonics and their Stellas, I wondered who would be my first victim? Tune in next time to find out.