Buy a suit at Jos. A. Bank, let them give you a bank!

Gosh, I’m so sick of their commercials. Where do they get the goofball with the infinitely joyful sing-song voice, who is always offering ever more fantastic deals on clothing that no one needs!

Buy three suits, get five free!!! For what, dude? Don’t have no job, don’t need no suit!

Or if you had a job to which you might otherwise have worn a suit, the Security Department of your company has sent out a memo telling you to dress like a plumber or electrician just in case demonstrators think you’re a bonus recipient and throw garbage at you, or worse.

This is my modest proposal to Jos. A Bank. It’s a variation of the old wheeze where you open a CD at the bank and they give you a toaster. I’ll buy the goddamn suit, and I’ll allow you, Jos. A. Bank, to give me a bank. You’ve got banks, right? That’s why you’re called that! Plus, if you don’t have enough banks to give to the thirteen men in America today who might be persuaded to buy a junky suit if they got a bank with it, you can get more from the TARP. A suit is body cover, and what better to cover bodies than TARP?

Great deal. You unload surplus suits, government unloads surplus banks, I recapitalize my bank by taking Bazooka Joe wrappers and SH Green Stamps to the Fed discount window. Everyone’s a winner.

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