'Kudlow & Company'
Free-market capitalism, baby -- that's what we're talkin' 'bout! And even though we don't technically have what you would call "disposable income" or a "dime to our name," we believe with all our heart that someday, if we diligently watch Kudlow & Company weeknights on CNBC, we might. So if you dream of one day knowing what dividends are or what capital gains are or, you know, retiring, call your friends and let's party like Wall Street insiders!
Setting the scene:
It's business. It's politics. It's as cuddly as an electrified cheese grater to your inner thigh. But that's Kudlow. You'll need bears, bulls, American flags, stock reports, portfolio projections, flat-screen TVs with live feeds of the New York Stock Exchange and bowls of shiny new pennies. And if Michael Vick hadn't ruined it for the rest of us, we'd have suggested something portraying the "dog eat dog" mentality. Hire college students to dress like floor traders in smocks at the stock exchange, then have them come out and shout in a buying frenzy every 15 minutes when the trading bell goes off. Scatter issues of Forbes and Smart Money magazines around the room, and have tables set up with games of Monopoly. Randomly write companies and their stock symbols on invitations, then track the stocks the day of the party -- the guest whose stock grew the most wins a $50 Ameritrade gift certificate.
Attire:
Wall Street has very strict dress codes, so require pinstripe suits, shirts with contrasting French cuffs and collars, and power ties and pocket squares. Don't forget your flag pins!
On the menu:
On one side of the buffet offer oysters Rockefeller and shots of Goldschlager. On the other side, porridge and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
On the hi-fi:
Money for Nothing by Dire Straits, The Best of Eddie Money, Pennies From Heaven by Bing Crosby, If I Had a Million Dollars by the Barenaked Ladies, She Works Hard for the Money by Donna Summer, Mercedes Benz by Janis Joplin, Can't Buy Me Love by the Beatles.
The showstopper:
Though it's only been there since 1989, the charging bull sculpture by SoHo artist Arturo DeModica is as identifiable to Wall Street as Big Ben is to London. At 7,000 pounds, it's what you might call "bulky." Why not buy a real bull for the occasion? Obviously, you should check zoning laws.
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