Edwin Arlington Robinson’s best-known poem, "Richard Cory," perpetuates one of the oldest urban myths—that rich people who seem to be much happier than ourselves are really miserable. It’s the poor-little- rich-kid idea in adult form. Richard Cory, who everyone thinks has everything they want but lack, one day goes home and blows his brains out.
How delightful! If only this sort of thing actually happened in the real world. In this real world, however, rich people are much happier than the rest of us. They eat better, go to places we can’t afford to go, are sucked up to by other people who want a taste. And when boredom threatens to intrude upon their happiness, they simply spend $50 or $60 million and buy themselves high public office in New York or New Jersey. We should all be that unhappy.
The following parody of Robinson’s poem isn’t about someone who seems to have it all but doesn’t. It’s about someone who seemed to know it all—but alas for us, didn’t. I call it: Alan Greenspan.
Alan Greenspan
Whenever Alan Greenspan cut key rates
Stock market investors all licked their lips,
About his wisdom there were few debates
When he smiled or winked, we did back flips.
A prudent man, this Chairman of the Fed
He always warned of excess and of greed,
Of course, it’s never clear just what he said,
But nonetheless, we always all agreed.
And he was smart—yes, smarter than the rest
In economic lore he was well versed
His nostrums always seemed to meet the test
And kept us deeply in the black immersed.
Then came nine rate cuts in quick succession
That failed the economic slide to stem,
And lo! and behold we’re in recession,
Let’s hope he made it right with number ten.
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