The Last Scotsman on Wall Street

Send us a text Welcome back to paradise, where the rosé is chilled, the sun strokes the sea, and your third ear is tuned to the gospel according to Hugh. This week, I take you deep into the delirious heart of Wall Street circa 2006, an era of mutual fund gods, tax-deductible lap dances, and a man named Scotty who nearly exploded trying to mask the scent of strippers with gasoline. Yes, really. In a 15-minute acid-laced recital, I read a wild chapter from Derek Wallis’ Occupy a Job on Wall ...