Pony

One time when I was a kid our pony ran away, and we found him at the Bank on Main Street. He’d gotten a job there and eventually became a manager. He told us that he found it much more fulfilling work than standing in a stall until we saddled him and steered him around the pasture.

His goal was to make his chunk and then retire to the countryside, and get back to grazing and running and shitting everywhere. Boy, did he love shitting everywhere.

He facilitated the deal that eventually turned our pasture into a Wal-Mart.

Then later we found out he was a key player in the lending crisis.

Pony

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