The CEOs of America's biggest banks met with the president to share their concerns about America's impending debt ceiling default.
They wasted their time -- Ted Cruz is driving the Default Express. And Ted Cruz doesn't care what Wall Street wants.
I like to think that Lloyd Blankfein, Chairman and CEO of Goldman Sachs, went back to New York and called Heidi Cruz.
Heidi Cruz -- Mrs. Ted Cruz -- is a vice president in the Private Wealth Management Group at Goldman Sachs in Houston, where she manages the investments of high net worth clients.
I like to think Lloyd Blankfein settled himself in a Goldman Sachs conference room equipped with so much state of the art technology that it could be the control center of a network news show, and nodded to a technician, and there, as if she were sitting across the table from him, was Heidi Cruz.
And I like to think their conversation went something like this:
"Call me Lloyd. Please. Lloyd."
No way can she do that. But she nods.
"Heidi, as you know, a bunch of us went to Washington to meet with the president. We came away convinced that the country will default on October 17th -- and the person who will be responsible for that is your husband.
Lloyd Blankfein is not interested in anything Heidi Cruz can say. This is his call. He talks right over her.
"I find it... ironic that the man who's about to tank the world economy is, thanks to your employment here, on the Goldman health plan. A Cadillac plan -- we pay more than $40,000 a year to cover your family."
Heidi, smartly, says nothing.
"Tell me, Heidi, do you and Ted ... talk?"
"Family stuff. The news of the day."
"How the kids are, what you did?"
"Good. Tonight I want you to tell him what happened with you today."
"Has something happened?"
"As a matter of fact, it has. We've found some... irregularities in your expense report."
"Mr. Blankfein..." Heidi says, sounding as much like a victim as her husband does when he sits with a reporter and the subject turns to Barack Obama and Harry Reid.
"When you go back to your office, Heidi, you'll find a security guard there. He'll help you collect your personal belongings."
"But there are no irregularities..." She catches herself. This is like talking politics with her husband: a one-way conversation. "Am I... fired?"
"No, Heidi, you're on leave. But on October 17, if the government defaults... yes, you'll be fired. And if that happens, I wouldn't bother applying to other Wall Street banks -- your career in the big leagues will be over. But enough about you. What Ted needs to know is this: Come the next election, we'll spend whatever... it... takes."
Blankfein pauses, waiting for Heidi to finish his thought.
"Or I can knock some sense into Ted and get him to back off."
"Exactly," Blankfein says. "And while you're at it, ask him if he knows the difference between Ted Cruz and Wall Street."
"What is the difference?"
"Wall Street has an endgame."
Blankfein nods. The screen flashes white, then darkens, until it is as black as a poor Texas woman's chance of getting her government to pay for a mammogram.
Dear Lord, I wish Lloyd Blankfein would make that call.
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