b'What do I see when I contemplate this porcine visage? I see all that it represents as a beautiful, peaceable alternative not only to industrial agriculture, but also to industrial finance. I also see transactions threatening to march relationships to the slaughterhouse. I see violence done in the name of commodification. I see investment bankers using exaggerated quantitative sophistication to drive culture towards the lowest common denominator, driving all of us, in two herds of wildly unequal size, towards the penthouse apart-ments and bargain basements of the dumbed down. But let me zoom in to a more personal view. I have never been able to get over the fact that despite all the benefits of education that I and my classmates and many of my colleagues have enjoyed, growing up as we did in the right zip codes in and around the right cities at the right time, in the post-World-War-II epoch of peace and prosperity, with all the bells and whistles and perks that flow from and pertain thereto; and despite the disruption and promise of the 60s and 70s having generated an abiding sense that the modern American vision of progress was cracking open to include the wisdom of other cultures, broader views of history, and due precaution about the consequences of excessive military-industrialism and consumerism; and despite our part as baby boomers in the greatest intergenerational transfer of wealth in history, to the tune of many tens of trillions of dollars; and despite, today, the best intentions and often deep desires of many to do well while doing good; despite all this, only trickles of capital manage to escape the maw of industrial finance and fiduciary convention, and most of us, however reluctantly, find ourselves 22'