Denby, like the rest of us, made a choice in life - or choices, really. He decided that he was going to be a Writer, and that generally means - leaving aside the Susan Collinses of the world - that you aren't going to get rich. But if you work hard and keep a steady moral compass, you may be able to live a very fulfilling, never mind cool, life. It's kind of vicariously cool, but it ain't bad.

Denby did not decide to go work on Wall Street, which he could have done. Obviously he has the requisite brain cell capacity, etc. Wall Street is a funny place. It is the only business, or occupation, where the line function (sorry for the Harvard Business School lingo) is to make money. In other words, at Monsanto you make chemicals, and by the way you get paid. At Ball State, you teach and by the way you get paid. At The New Yorker, you write, and well, you get the point. ... But on Wall Street, you take money and use it to get more. The whole point is to make a lot of money. (There is nothing more sickening that someone from Goldman Sachs saying [and they do this more than anyone] that what they are really doing is creating value for their customers. Twaddle!)

But let me dribble out some credit here. Working on Wall Street is tough. Very tough. Yes, there are a few Ringo Starrs out there, who just happen to be at the right place at the right time, but mostly it is grueling. Long hours. Boring like you would not believe. Lots of assholes. Constant temptation to cross the line. And if you navigate through this and you have a brain, yes, you too could make, let's say, $750,000 a year. Denby could have chosen this life.