The Advantages of Being Brain Damaged

Did anyone happen to catch that article in the Wall Street Journal about how a study showed that brain damaged individuals who have lost their sense of fear are better off than non-brain damaged people when it comes to making money in investments? This is the answer to my question about how in the hell the guys I used to work for make any money as investors, being almost certifiably insane. I used to describe one of the guys as an 'idiot savant' with special emphasis on the 'idiot.' He notably lacked that part of his brain that tells you not to do something because it would be rude, or dangerous, or politically incorrect from all angles. His name was Joe. He was missing the censor that others tend to have. Sometimes, I wish I was missing the 'censor.' 'Course I would experience more freedom from inhibitions and perhaps I'd make a shitload in high-risk stock investments, but I'd probably have offended everyone I've ever met and have no friends.

I remember one day Joe, the President of the investment firm I worked for, came to work with an incredible hangover. Nonetheless, he insisted on going with me to check out the meeting room we were reserving at an elite private club for our annual shareholders meeting. I was coordinating the events, so I was going to talk with the caterer and go over where we wanted tables, etc. So, Joe insists that he come too, even though he's in no condition...He looked like a homeless person wearing a windbreaker jacket. His eyes were barely opened.

We met the venue's meeting coordinator in the lobby and he walked us into the elevator. I tried to conceal the fact that I was practically holding Joe up, as he could not stand well on his own that morning. And he says to the guy, "This place is pretty cool. I wanna be a member. Do you guys have a gym here?"

"No. I'm sorry we don't." The man replied.

The thing is, that the reason Joe wasn't already a member is that you have to have an existing member, who smells of cigars and old money, to sponsor you. His partner in the fund, Bob, was the one who was the member. But, even Bob was making excuses because he refused to sponsor Joe. He had sponsored him for another elite club that he was eventually thrown out of for soliciting to members- passing out his business card (which was typical of Joe). Bob had been avoiding all requests for any other club sponsorships, which involved endorsing the person in writing, recommending them as an ideal candidate for membership.

So, here I was, at the club, keeping close enough to Joe that he was propped up on my shoulder and not falling over. I also would interrupt him, if he tried to speak, to keep him from making an ass of himself- which he had a real knack for.

We passed a room where people were dining. "That's the dining room..." the meeting coordinator said. It was clearly a jacket required kind of establishment. So, Joe says, "Hey, I know that girl...I'm going to go say Hi" and I had to keep him from walking in as gracefully as I could before he embarrassed some poor woman with her date, no doubt it was someone who probably never wanted to see him again, especially not in his blue windbreaker and rumpled jeans. "No Joe, we don't have time." I grabbed him and steered him, not unlike a parent would steer their sugar-high, toddler away from the neighborhood ice cream truck. The meeting planner gave me a sly wink at my maneuver- as if it was a wise choice. I decided I liked him (the meeting planner). Did I mention Joe was 40?

Other offenses Joe was guilty of was always adjusting himself, hand to crotch, often before he reached to shake someone's hand. He wore food-stained clothing and would always pretend to notice the stains for the first time when you pointed them out to him, even though they were perhaps a few days old. He was known for showing up to parties that he wasn't invited to. He was a huge name dropper, without the real connections to back it up. He was a compulsive liar and constantly bragged about things he didn't even own...yet. On election day, he asked every person he came in contact with who they voted for and demanded an answer. He could be heard all over the office loudly praising his son over the phone for not pissing his pants today...his son (from a previous marriage) was 6 years old at the time. He spent most of the day in the office talking on the phone and looking at internet porn, which he would thoughtfully conceal with a legal pad whenever I entered the room. "By the way, it can be seen from the hallway." I reminded him.

Joe was obsessed with everything Austin Powers. Whenever I had to run into his office to talk to him about some serious matter that needed his immediate attention, he would press a button on his computer that would let out a Doctor Evil laugh. He thought this was hysterical. Okay...it was...the first time....after about 100 times, however, not so much...

One day I accidentally discovered his mail-order bride catalog with a profile and correspndence from some 17 year old from Russian gal posing with a parasol.

Joe's best friend was a crazy, grown-man frat-boy type who got the two of them into trouble at a Make-A-Wish Foundation fundraiser. Shawn, his friend, known for drunken, naked antics beyond the comprehension of most sane people, casually whipped out his naked male member and presented it to guests on the dessert tray. "Lemme guess," I said in response to the story, "They Made-A-Wish that Shawn would leave?"
"No," Joe said, "We had to apologize with a really big check."

One day Joe came into the office with a huge black shiner on one eye. I asked him if he got into a bar fight (which was possible given that he was a true south- side Irish-boy).

"No," he answered." "Then what happened?" I asked. He responded, "Bad Botox." To which I replied, "Ahhh, I'd stick with the bar-fight story if I were you."

One day, Joe boldly announced to me that he only dated women who were 23 years old and not a day older. He said that lots of 23 year old women liked dating him. So, I boldly announced that the only reason a 23 year old woman dates a 40 year old man is to use him for money. I thought someone should tell him this. it didn't go over well...

Joe had only one semi-normal girlfriend who was older than 23. She was perhaps 35 and actually attractive and wasn't trying to get her green card. After dating Joe for just over a year, she gave him an ultimatum. She wanted to know that they were headed towards marriage, or she wanted to break up, 'cause she wasn't getting any younger...He didn't want to break up with her, but he also didn't want to marry her ('cause she supposedly liked her cat better than his son). So, his solution? Fly her to Paris and propose...put a big rock on her hand...on one condition: that they not speak of the wedding or set a date until 6 months have passed. Why? Because he hoped she'd forget about it. (This is actually what he told someone in our office.) Yeah, clearly Joe knows a lot about women...Not long after, they broke up and he was miserable.
This guy, this very guy I speak of, makes millions as an investor...so, I'm telling you, this recent study is a breakthrough explanation on the phenomenon.