Somehow, in high school, I missed it. I'm pretty sure it was an elective, but I've never been really good with decision making. Or money. Or both..
But when I finally took economics in college, I f--king loved it. Learning about money and all the factors that influence and impact the financial world was completely enthralling. Fine, maybe it was the fact that it was the only class I had with my roommate (a Vietnamese dude named Phong, or 'Charlie', if you were his good friend/total dick). Hell, maybe it was solely because my professor, the caveman version of George Clooney, never ever actually laughed. Instead, he just said HA! the way you or I might say Boo!
Or, and there's a distinct possibility about this one, just maybe, it was the second row of the classroom (on the left, from the door) that had me hooked, as it was entirely comprised of four consecutive smoking hot juniors (commonly referred to as the A Team). Oh, if only I could have supplied their demands.
Whatever it was, all I could think every Tuesday and Thursday was, why doesn't everybody study economics? Why isn't it mandated that we learn about finances and the world of money?
I mean...is there something they don't want us to know about?
Turns out, there is. Tons of shit, actually. But thanks to the kickass cleverness of director Adam McKay and his band of Merry Men, a film like The Big Short crams years of mind-numbing economics and makes it not only digestible, but impossibly entertaining. This is a three credit class that stays packed all semester (versus those classes where fifty random f--kers would show up out of nowhere during Finals week). And it's an easy A...as long as your paying attention.
Which apparently, no one was doing.
Set primarily in the shitstorm known as the, uh, oughts (the ones? the oh-somethings? f--k), The Big Short is all about those faceless d-bags on Wall Street and their rampant quest to choke the last dollar out of the real-estate market. See, these greedy f--kers had realized that you can only sell so many houses, and basically began handing anyone with a pulse a perfect credit score, affording droves of people to super-size it, and buy their f--king dream home. Five bedrooms and an infinity pool? No problem. A fenced-in acre in Miami? Sure, sign here. You want one made out of f--king Legos? Done.
But old Cloud Cuckoo Land was propped up by two things: jack and shit, and eventually those homeowners were destined to lose everything. Okay, sucks for them, but....uh, Proffessor...how could anyone actually make money from people NOT paying their mortgage?
Good question.
But when I finally took economics in college, I f--king loved it. Learning about money and all the factors that influence and impact the financial world was completely enthralling. Fine, maybe it was the fact that it was the only class I had with my roommate (a Vietnamese dude named Phong, or 'Charlie', if you were his good friend/total dick). Hell, maybe it was solely because my professor, the caveman version of George Clooney, never ever actually laughed. Instead, he just said HA! the way you or I might say Boo!
Or, and there's a distinct possibility about this one, just maybe, it was the second row of the classroom (on the left, from the door) that had me hooked, as it was entirely comprised of four consecutive smoking hot juniors (commonly referred to as the A Team). Oh, if only I could have supplied their demands.
Whatever it was, all I could think every Tuesday and Thursday was, why doesn't everybody study economics? Why isn't it mandated that we learn about finances and the world of money?
I mean...is there something they don't want us to know about?
Which apparently, no one was doing.
Set primarily in the shitstorm known as the, uh, oughts (the ones? the oh-somethings? f--k), The Big Short is all about those faceless d-bags on Wall Street and their rampant quest to choke the last dollar out of the real-estate market. See, these greedy f--kers had realized that you can only sell so many houses, and basically began handing anyone with a pulse a perfect credit score, affording droves of people to super-size it, and buy their f--king dream home. Five bedrooms and an infinity pool? No problem. A fenced-in acre in Miami? Sure, sign here. You want one made out of f--king Legos? Done.
But old Cloud Cuckoo Land was propped up by two things: jack and shit, and eventually those homeowners were destined to lose everything. Okay, sucks for them, but....uh, Proffessor...how could anyone actually make money from people NOT paying their mortgage?
Good question.
