The Artful Trade

That day, like every other, the brokers poured snake oil into telephones, and traders howled orders. Money, as it always does, chased more. In the office towers, ticker tape raced. But down below in Manhattan’s side streets, dimes limped after dollars on betting slips. That day, like every other, brokers poured snake oil into telephones, and traders howled orders. Money, as it always does, chased more. In the office towers, ticker tape raced. But down below in Manhattan’s side streets, dimes limped after dollars on betting slips. The numbers racket. Any working stiff understands that a dime’s worth of maybe could buy a dollar’s worth of almost. Almost enough when the month's end shows up with its hand out. Eight million souls each day tried to find the right combination to transform themselves. Tried to conjure up some mathematical formula for rest or the square root of happiness. Some equation that would, for a moment stop the world from reaching into your wallet. And a...