General Discussion

There once was a financier named Jeff,
Who found gentle requests bad for his health.
He emailed with spite,
Demanded cash outright,
To bankroll the scale of his wealth.

He wrote to a titan named Black,
Saying funds must be put back on track.
“Uncomfortable talks
Are beneath me,” he squawks,
“Send millions—or work I’ll retract.”

“Forty mil is my usual fee,”
He declared with astounding ennui.
“Pay part up front,
Then the rest every month,
Or immediately—count me as free.”

He warned that advisers had made,
A perilous tangle, he said.
With language quite crass,
Crossing lines unsurpassed,
In emails the Times later read.

The notes painted pressure and threat,
A lifestyle he wouldn’t offset.
Cash flow must run,
Or the work wouldn't be done—
A bargain both blunt and beset.

Black’s lawyer then pushed back hard,
Said the payments were fully above-board.
Just tax plans and trusts,
No coercion, no dust,
Per reviews by a firm brought aboard.

So the tale sits in records and ink,
Where power and money both clink.
A reminder how greed,
When it takes the lead,
Can make even billionaires blink.