Oh, baby, let’s get French. Yes, I like your capitalism like that. Mmm, yes. I want to hold your crumbling financial institutions in my strong, manly arms, and protect them from harm.
Imagine it, oh, oui oui, when you start to get so insolvent that you can’t do anything but come running back to me. Yes, I’ll be your sugar daddy.
When I hear the words “French-Style Capitalism,” that’s all I hear. Except for the distant strains of Ben Bernanke:
I need your teeth, Spencer. I need your teeth for the Federal Reserve.
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