Gravitas

Any conversation in this country of late is bound to contain three topics:
1.  The weather
2.  Obamacare
3.  The economy in general and fancy bankers in particular.

No one can agree on any of these topics, but as we read about Libor and see photographs of all the naughty hedge fund managers, there is some consensus that the bankers are nothing if not good dressers, with suits that cost a bundle and made-to-measure shirts and hair cuts that put John Edwards to shame. A certain dignity, a certain level of taste and . . . well, gravitas.

So imagine my surprise when I got a solicitation to invest my funds with the Securities division of Fifth Third Bank, "a registered broker-dealer and a registered investment advisor registered with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). Registration does not imply a certain level of skill or training." Sic. To encourage my participation, they sent me a sheet of rather tacky temporary tattoos. If you click on the photo and can read backwards, you will see that the hearts and roses and pirate equipment are accompanied by unforgettable phrases like Death Before Divestiture and My Banker is My Anchor.

They do not stipulate which parts of my anatomy I am supposed to decorate. They do give me instructions for applying the tattoos. And removing them. Even Jamie Dimon didn't come up with an insane gimmick like this. And he wears nice suits.