Ain't No Party Like A Wall Street Frat Party

Did you know that Wall Street has a secret fraternity? Scratch that, of course Wall Street has a secret fraternity.

Apparently it's called Kappa Beta Phi, and it's so secretive, so exclusive, that they hold a giant black tie gala every year at a hotel and invite the Wall Street Journal. The newspaper describes the gathering as "Part Friar's Club roast, part Gong Show," but judging by their description, it's clearly more "part leaden jokefest circlejerk, part boiling cauldron of laff-screams."

The group's humor is anything but politically correct. One crude joke took aim at Rep. Barney Frank's treatment of the U.S. taxpayer, with a reference to Mr. Frank's sexual orientation. Mr. Frank is the first openly gay member of Congress.

Good one, Wall Street fraternity. It's just nice to know that there's a place where bankers can go after a hard day of setting piles of money on fire and trading invisible values, to just relax and let off some steam by being openly homophobic and unfunny (at the same time!) in a room together.

Also shame on you, WSJ. You shouldn't encourage them by calling that  "humor." Call it what it is: "The group's broken shoebox full of gasoline" or "The group's manure n' misery parade."

But it gets so much worse:

The hit of the evening, however, was this new take on "American Pie" performed by Mr. Scaturro:

A long, long time ago…I can still remember

How the Dow Jones used to make me smile.

And I learned my trade and had my chance

The music played I did my dance

And I made seven figures for a while.

I can't remember if I cried when they pulled the plug on Countrywide…

It sucks that Iceland is out of ice….Bye, Bye to my piece of the pie…Now I travel coach whenever I fly…Maybe this will be the day that I die.

Fingers crossed, Mr. Scaturro.

Following an energetic standing ovation, Mr. Scaturro took the stage again for an encore. The bankers laughed so deeply and so much that their laughs formed a magical razor sharp net that flew off of the roof terrace of the St Regis, and coasted all over the skies, ensnaring 3 American bald eagles. When the Wall Street frat boys saw their harvest, they shrugged, sung a round of  "I  Shot The Stearns Staff," and began doing keg stands with the remaining Chilean cabernet sauvignon.