Let’s make one thing clear: If Alan Greenspan, the former head of the Federal Reserve, has no clue, then who am I to predict how the economic meltdown will run its course. I will not waste my ink and your time on the matter. That said, I will offer a humble vignette, the origins of which came to me in New York, the Ground Zero of the current crisis. I was having lunch with a friend at Le Bilboquet, a well-appointed restaurant uptown between Madison and Park Avenues, when we noticed a brace of Lehman Brothers executives wolfing down their food, apparently without a care in the world. I asked my companion how they could stomach their food at a time when the doom mongers on Wall Street were predicting the end of capitalism and the beginning of a new socialist dawn. My friend shrugged and pointed out the huge
