In 2007, decades of unchecked Manhattan greed culminated a financial meltdown that threatened the entire world economy.
Consultants to the multi-billion-dollar pharmaceutical firms AstraZeneca, Pfizer, and Moderna evidently learned valuable lessons from the events that followed.
In a functional society, the 2007 collapse would have triggered a groundswell of legal schadenfreude in response to the bankers' malfeasance.
Disgraced executives would have been made to offer nightly live-streamed tsunamis of tear-filled mea culpas in bids to avoid the death penalty.
Insofar as regulation of interstate commerce falls under the purview of the federal government, federal prosecutors would have issued indictments near and far, as far as the eye can see. State prosecutors should have followed suit.
2007, in short, should have been a legal hunting season for Manhattan hucksters.
Instead of any of that, the bankers held a metaphorical gun to the economy's head and demanded more cash as they slipped out of the back door. Not only were none of them prosecuted — the government threw more cash at them to try to quench the fire.
Against the backdrop of an imploding economy, the theoretical representatives of the people spent $700 billion buying back the toxic casino debts that Wall Street conjured out of fiat.
Most of the un-prosecuted Manhattan racketeers have grown fatter in the intervening years, many occupying board positions and landing gigs as cable news actors, tasked solely with parroting the newest Goldman Sachs talking point.
Average Americans, as usual, got crumbs.