Markets want to be free.

Frontline did another segment on Wall Street before the collapse the other night. I think it was called "OMFG WTF?" Its basic thesis was that Ken Lewis is a, like, grandmaster level jackass whom no sane person would so much as ask to feed their cats while they're away on vacation. They kept showing this really unflattering black and white picture of Lewis sort of smirking and biting his lip at the same time. When PBS producers are making a point, they're seldom subtle.

But there was a segment on Paulson's reaction to the crisis in its early stages. Paulson was sort of being cast as a guy who is almost on the right side, the way Agent Skinner was in the first few seasons of X-Files, before he finally became an official Good Guy. They kept using words like "intense" "brooding" "obsessed" to describe Paulson which, frankly, is the kind of thing you'd sort of like to see out of a guy who had his set of responsibilities. It might have been nice if he'd brooded and obsessed a bit more a long time ago, when the mess might have been preventable, but things being how they are it's at least nice to know he probably punched some walls or snapped at the help or something.

One of the talking heads was discussing how Paulson and his team sat around in an office the first Monday after Lehman went the way of all flesh, waiting for the markets to open "Eager to see what was going to happen." Now. The word "eager" made me smirk here, because I doubt any of them were actually eager to see the full scope of the derivative and the damage done, but then I thought "What if someone was? What would that guy be like?"

So I started picturing this dude, probably in his late 20s. It's his first big meeting. He's wearing a Dartmouth green tie with little hunting dogs on it that his sister bought him at J. Press. He has his "good luck pennies" in his loafers, which are the two pennies he got back the first time he used his fake ID to buy some wine coolers in high school. His father, three uncles, two brothers, and seventeen first and second cousins are all investment bankers. He still has a boarding school haircut and he's just sitting there, giving everybody nicknames while other hands are clenched tightly to the arms of chairs, eyes glued to CNBC. Andy Bernard style, he keeps calling Paulson "Hammerin' Hank" and saying "This is gonna be awesome, Hammerin' Hank! Beer me a Pellegrino would you? Oh man by noon this market is going to correct itself and industrious, strong willed men will once again be building their own fortunes...."

I'd like to think that later, when the police showed up, nobody could remember exactly how he'd ended up flying out the window. Paulson just shrugs and says "Who knows. Probably really bummed out over the game the other night. Fucking Red Sox fans. Also, I think he was a homosexual."