johnmonty.com

Send Your Guns to Enron

Image: The Late J Clifford Baxter

January 27, 2002

Finally we've found an Enron executive who's performed a valuable public service. Instead of continuing a life of sucking the public trough dry and leaving the clean-up duty to the lowlife scumbags, J. Clifford Baxter has permanently left the fat bastard business. The other day, J. Clifford went for a ride in his Mercedes, parked on the side of a residential street, grabbed his trusty .38-caliber revolver and blew his greedy little brains out. Thank you Enron, thank you NRA, thank you J. Clifford.
Irrelevant Ranting Digression: What is it with these fat bastards and their pretentious "first initial, full middle name" crap? What did the 'J' stand for? John? James? Joseph? Is 'Joe Baxter' too common for a high and mighty roller like J. Clifford Baxter? Maybe Joe Baxter would still be alive today. He'd probably be scraping the bottom of the barrel without any retirement savings, but he'd still be scraping. In the interest of clarity and brevity, I'll refer to the late J. Clifford Baxter as simply 'Cliff'. Hope you're not offended, Cliff.
Have a look at Cliff's photo above. That is the face of pure evil. "Me first, You last, There's one for you 19 for me, Don't bend over to pick up the soap when I'm behind you" Evil. Right now, Cliff's getting some good press. They're saying he wasn't one of the bad guys, but a whistle blower and a solid family man and a great manager to his employees. That's what they say about all dead guys.

Don't make me puke. Cliff was in on the Enron scams from the beginning. Before he resigned last year, he cashed in 577,000 shares of Enron stock for $35.2 million. That's a lot of blood money.

So why does a rich, retired fat bastard like Cliff go off and kill himself? We are hearing a variety of explanations: He was suddenly stricken with a guilty conscience by the sad stories of all the Enron shareholders and employees whose lives were ruined by the Enron collapse that he helped engineer. George W Bush's poignant tale of his destitute mother-in-law who lost $8,100 in the deal drove Cliff over the edge of the cliff. He didn't commit suicide but was murdered by a small army consisting of members of the mafia, al-Qaida, the Republican National Committee and Fox TV News.

You're making me puke again. Fat bastards like Cliff don't have consciences to get stricken guilty. And we'll leave the murder conspiracy theories to those mental midgets and heavy breathers who are still trying to prove that Hillary Clinton killed Vince Foster.

No, the only possible explanation is that Cliff saw the writing on the wall. He was going down. Somewhere in that avalanche of documents residing in the bowels of Enron or Arthur Andersen (the ones that haven't yet been shredded) was Cliff's smoking gun. He was guilty of gross amounts of illegal and disgusting financial transgressions and he knew it. Someone had the goods on him and he saw a dark future for himself as a wealthy fat bastard in prison. Cliff's $35.2 million was not going to prevent him from becoming that hockey father killer's next roommate.

And now that he's not around to tell tales, you know Cliff's going to become the fall guy. Kenny Boy Lay will point his larcenous finger at Cliff's dead body and say, "You know, I told him not to screw all those worthless losers but he didn't listen. Now look at him. It's a damn shame. Where are my golf clubs?"

You want to perform a public service for America as valuable as the one Cliff just performed? Look around the house for any spare guns you might have lying around. Ones that are already loaded if possible. Send them to the Enron Executive Board Room in Houston, Texas along with a letter reminding them of the scene in Godfather II where Robert Duvall sneaks a razor into prison and gives it to Frankie Pentangeli with instructions to "do the right thing".

Just don't send it postage due. Those poor fat bastards are bankrupt, you know.